Joy
I wake up the next morning to a sudden bang on the door. I sit bolt-upright in bed, my pulse spiking.
Shit.
I tear away the covers, pausing as the knocking gets more aggressive.
Slowly, I crawl out of bed, tiptoeing through the apartment to look through the window.
The banging continues before I get a chance to peer out.
“Joy? Hello?”
The voice is female. But Valerian could have accomplices.
“Who is it?”
“Oh my god. It’s me! Open up. I forgot to bring my key.”
Lila.
I sigh with relief, unlock the door, and let her in. She left for work after the movie ended last night, bartending at the local nightclub.
“What’s up with you this morning?” Lila narrows her eyes, regarding me from outside. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah, I’m low on iron,” I lie. “I really need to fix that.”
“Here.” She waltzes into the kitchen and hands me a bottle of liquid iron. “Take this. You’ll feel better.”
“Do you have a natural remedy for everything?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” She shrugs. “Anyway,” she shouts from her bedroom. “I can’t stay long. I’m heading out on a date with the club’s manager.”
“Oh? At this time? It’s almost—” I glance at the time on my phone and freeze.
Fuck.
Lila stomps back into the kitchen, mirroring my grimace. “I know, right?” She takes the bottle of iron from my grasp even though I haven’t tried it yet. “Not the nicest thing to drink. But you’ll thank me for it later.”
“Where are you going at eight a.m.?”
“For coffee. I’ll be back by noon.” Lila fluffs my hair. “You should get yourself to the beach on a day like today. Do something other than sit on your laptop and write about fashion all day, yeah? Those people don’t deserve your hard work. Not when they’re paying you cents.”
That’s true.
“Okay.” I blow her a kiss goodbye. “Enjoy the coffee. And the date.”
I do exactly what Lila tells me not to do and plonk on the couch, reaching for my laptop. But first, I make sure all the doors and windows are closed. And locked.
‘Eight a.m. sharp. I don’t like to be kept waiting.’
Nerves build in my stomach as I sit and write. Fashion’s always been a release for me. It’s my way of expressing myself. Writing about it brings me joy.
But I can’t even string a sentence together.
Valerian’s ice-cold blue eyes interrupt my train of thought every time I think I’m getting somewhere with this article.
Getting nowhere, I shut my laptop and grab my phone.
8:30 a.m.
I’m safe here. Valerian doesn’t know where I live. There’s over five hundred neighborhoods in LA. The odds of him catching me are pretty low.
And same as last night, I refuse to let men be the reason I stop living.
I saw the way Mom used to curl up on the couch when my father came back late. She stopped asking him where he’d been because she knew he was lying. He wasn’t at work. Even if he was, he was still having an affair with the female colleagues.
Mom couldn’t leave the relationship. She didn’t want to. Plus, she didn’t have any money.
Which is why I left home at eighteen to give us both some. Once we had enough, we got her out of the marriage.
Yesterday morning, I was forced into one.
I take off from the couch, change into my favorite red bikini and throw some clothes over the top. Time to stop moping and wasting away the best years of my life.
If anything, I’m safer where there’s people.
So, I head to the beach.
I walk the long way there, glancing over my shoulder every minute to make sure I’m not being followed.
So far, I’m in the clear. Valerian stands out of the crowd. It won’t be hard to recognize him.
I make it to the beach and set up near the water. Nothing calms the soul like a bit of vitamin D on a hot summer’s day. I lather up on sunscreen, take out my book and relax. I’m surrounded by families.
Hearing kids laughing always strikes a nerve. The family closest to me are playing ping pong, each taking turns whacking the ball. The sounds of crashing waves fade as I picture my own childhood.
If Dad knew how to keep it in his pants, we could have done fun activities like this. Taken beach days out. Gone on vacation.
‘Sorry, Joy. I’m in the Bahamas for the next two weeks. I’ll see you back at school.’
I throw my phone across the couch after reading that text from my friend. Jealousy sinks its familiar teeth into my chest.
All of my friends from school are on summer vacation.
I’m the only one left.
Fuck them.
I fold over the page in my book, stuff it in my beach bag. Time for a swim.
I ease myself under the water, one body part at a time. It’s a little cool but I don’t mind that. It takes me out of my head. I’ve always liked swimming for that reason.
That’s why I always finished first place in my school’s swim meets.
I dive under each wave until I’m past the whitewash. This is much better. I can still hear the faint sound of the ball hitting the bat, but I tune it out, lying flat on my back to float.
I squint, looking up at the sky. Lila was right. This really is the perfect summer’s day.
I extend my arms either side of me, flexing my fingers, feeling the water glide between them. I imagine the saltwater washing away all of my worries. Cleansing my mind. Making me feel new again.
Even in the winter, I’d come out for a swim. I grew up close to Santa Monica Pier.
I liked to swim out and float, watching the Ferris wheel change colors.
Maybe in another life, I get to be the girl that goes to the theme park with her family on the weekend.
I dive under the surface, feeling the saltwater brush through my hair. Through the underwater mist, I see a propeller turn a few yards ahead. People tend to bring their boats down here. It’s a great way to see all of the coastline. The beaches are my favorite part about LA.
I swim down. Surprisingly, the water’s clear. A school of fish swim right past me. Beautiful little creatures. I love seeing colorful things.
I work in fashion and it’s cool, but I’m surrounded by gray most of the time. People wear the same things. Do the same shit. Los Angeles is supposed to be home to Hollywood and bright lights. But I’ve never seen that side of the city.
Being with Igor didn’t inspire me. He just made the gray look less… gray.
Suddenly, I feel something curl around my ankle. I kick my foot. Maybe it’s just a bit of seaweed as I reach the seabed.
I’m wrong.
I whip around, swimming in the other direction. But I’m locked in. I can’t swim. I choke out a breath. Something has a hold of me.
Bubbles appear in front of my eyes as I gasp, swallowing water. That only makes me panic more.
I kick and swim, but it’s no use. The diver has me.
Everything inside of me goes cold as realization sets in.
Fuck.
I can’t help but think this is because I kept him waiting.