22. Cole
TWENTY-TWO
Cole
I’ve walked the length of the kitchen so many times that the wood grain is starting to wear down.
Still nothing.
No knock, no message, no sign of her.
I glance at the clock again. It’s been over an hour since she said she was walking over. Make that seventy-eight minutes, exactly, since I got the text. But who’s counting?
Kip pulled into her driveway about forty-five minutes ago, and I figured that would hold her up. I told myself to be patient and not act like a crazy person.
It's been fifteen minutes since he left, and still nothing. No sign of her, no text to tell me she got held up.
The house is silent. There's no music or television. I haven't opened my computer or answered any calls. My life is essentially on hold until I get to talk to her.
I didn't think I'd see or talk to her again before leaving, but when I got the text, I thought maybe we could have some closure, whatever the hell that means.
Now I don’t know what to think. Was the text just to fuck with me, a form of punishment for how I hurt her ?
I press my hand to the back of my neck and step out onto the deck. Watching the surf roll in is a nice change of pace from my stuffy kitchen and silent house.
That's when I realize a walk will do me good. Maybe a little adrenaline will help me clear my head. If she comes while I'm gone, then, so be it. I put my phone in my pocket just in case she calls.
I grab a hat from the rack outside of my sliding glass door, leave my shoes on the deck, and head down the stairs. My feet move on instinct, and the soft, white sand feels good on my skin.
The ocean is loud this afternoon. It's windier than it’s been all week. The soft sand above the high-tide waterline kicks up with every gust and sticks to my legs.
I walk in the opposite direction of her house at first, knowing if I were to walk by now, it would be obvious, and quite frankly, pathetic.
The beach is mostly empty, which is nice. A kid and his dad fly a kite a little further up, while a runner passes me, jogging in the opposite direction.
The wind on my face is a welcome breath of fresh air, literally. This is exactly what I needed.
After about fifteen minutes, I turn around and head back. The sun is at my face in this direction, so I pull my hat a little lower to shade my eyes.
Instead of stopping when I get to my house, I keep walking. I look up at her house out of habit, and there she is, sitting on the deck. She has her elbows on her knees and a glass of wine cradled between both hands.
Her hair’s loose, blowing across her face. She sees me before I call out and straightens slightly, but doesn’t move.
I raise a hand. “Hey, Sam. Mind if I come up?”
She stares at me for a second. Then takes a sip of her wine .
“Last time you didn’t ask.”
I smile. I think she's joking, but she's not smiling, so I pause.
“Joking with you. Of course. I’m just sitting here wallowing in my complicated life.”
“I have a knack for interrupting perfectly good solo meditations.”
She nods once. “Indeed, you do.”
I take the rest of the stairs slowly, stopping when I reach the top. I don’t sit until she tips her chin toward the empty chair beside her.
I ease down.
Neither of us says anything for a moment. Just the sound of waves and wind and some gull screaming overhead.
I glance over, but she’s staring straight ahead.
“You said you wanted to talk earlier. Is everything okay? You said you were heading over, and then I didn't hear anything.”
She nods, but still doesn’t look at me.
“I did.”
I wait, even though every part of me is braced and ready for impact. She did . Does that mean, in the present tense, she no longer does? She shifts her weight slightly, then finally turns her head. Her eyes are glassy and sharp all at once. I can tell she's been crying.
“You dodge my questions and offer half-truths all week with me, but you had no problem telling my dad we fucked. What the fuck, Cole?”
The words hit like a slap. I flinch, barely.
“I didn’t say it like that,” I manage, knowing nothing I could say would negate that. She's exactly right.
"What did you say? Why were you talking about my sex life with my father? "
"Nothing. He confronted me after the vote. I was caught off guard."
“You must've said something, because he told me you told him. Whatever you said made him think so,” she snaps.
I take a deep breath, searching for how to respond. My shoulders are tense, and I suddenly have the urge to stand up and walk around, to move. But I stay planted, letting her get it out. I didn't deny it to Samuel. I couldn't.
"I didn’t say anything disrespectful about you. Hell, I didn’t even confirm it. He asked me point blank, and I didn't know how to respond, so I said nothing.”
“You, the king of evasion, suddenly lost your talent for bullshit when it came to telling my father you were screwing his daughter?”
I sit forward, hands braced on my knees. “He already knew, Sam. He came at me like he’d already put it together. He asked, point blank, and I froze.”
“You froze,” she repeats, the words bitter on her tongue.
“He would have seen right through me if I'd denied it.”
She lets out a hollow laugh. “That’s great.”
"I thought that would have been worse."
She stands, pacing now, wine glass swinging slightly in her hand.
“No, you're right. It's much better that my father thinks I slept with a board member to influence a vote. Perfect. Now he thinks I whored myself out to sway you.”
“Jesus, Sam. I didn’t say anything close to that. And he didn’t say that either.”
Is that what this was to her? Did she sleep with me, thinking she could somehow influence me?
“But he thinks it. That's all that matters. He all but told me to stay away from you. I'm used to being a disappointment, so it's not all on you, but I wish you had denied it. That would have made my life a lot better.”
I rise slowly, fight or flight kicking in before I even realize I’m moving. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”
She looks up at me, arms crossed like a barrier I’m never getting past. Her eyes narrow, and her mouth sets into a hard, unforgiving line.
“Whatever, Cole. It's water under the bridge, now.”
There's no mistaking the message. She’s done.
"Is that why you slept with me?"
She blinks rapidly at me. "What?"
"You said that’s what he thinks. I’m asking if that’s what this was.”
She lets out a dry laugh. “Jesus, Cole.”
I stop pacing mid-step and turn toward her.
“You think I slept with you to influence your vote?”
I open my mouth, but I don’t have an answer. Not one that doesn’t make me sound like an asshole.
“I didn’t even know there was a vote coming. That night you walked up on my deck, I didn’t know shit about anything.”
She looks away.
“If I had been trying to sway you, I wouldn’t have let you leave the next morning without my number. I would’ve played it cool. Strung it out. Tried to make you like me.”
"You didn't have to do anything to make me like you."
She looks back at me now. She's not angry, I don't think. Not quite.
“I slept with you because I wanted to. Not because of what you could do for me.”
That hangs there a moment. Heavy, but honest. Neither of us speaks .
She exhales slowly, like she’s trying to shake it off. Then she turns her head.
She turns her head. “I should have let you know when I got held up earlier. Right after I sent that text, a lot came at me at once.”
I'm not sure what she's referencing, so I don't say anything. I still don't know if her text that she wanted to talk was a positive one, or what, so I wait for her cue.
She sits back down while keeping her eyes on me. “I’m not even sure why I texted you and asked if I could come over, to be honest. So much has happened since then. I think I meant to say thank you.”
My chest tightens. "Why would you want to thank me? I know I've let you down."
“For trying.”
I nod slowly. “I did try, Sam, for what it's worth. I was hoping I could buy some time. ”
“I know. And I do appreciate it.”
The wind picks up again. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, her fingers shaking slightly before she curls them around her glass again and props up her legs.
“I don’t want to fight with you. Besides this shitty ending to your time here, it's been good. Ten whole days, but we've packed a lot in.”
“I don't want our goodbye to be negative, either.”
We sit with that. And for the first time all day, I let myself hope this doesn’t have to end badly.
She looks down at her glass, her voice quieter now. “When are you heading back to New York?”
I glance out at the ocean and watch a set roll in. “Originally, it was Saturday.”
I look at her to see her reaction. She gives a small nod but doesn’t say anything .
“I'll probably leave tomorrow, now that the vote’s done. I don’t have anything keeping me.”
Except I do. She’s right here, sitting next to me. And it’s killing me not to say it out loud. But after everything today, I think that door has closed for both of us.
Her lips press together. That same flicker of emotion crosses her face again, but it's too fast to pin down. “Right.”
She doesn’t ask me to stay or tell me not to go. Instead, she leans back in her chair and lifts the glass to her lips.
The silence stretches, but it isn't settled.
“I should head in,” she says finally, pushing to her feet.
I nod, even though I’m not ready to move.
She doesn’t wait for me. Instead, she walks to the door and disappears inside.
I sit there for a few minutes after she’s gone. Listening to the waves and the wind and everything we didn’t say.