Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Tom
Ilie on my back on a thin mattress, staring at the ceiling.
The paint job is a mess. Uneven streaks, random patches that look like someone got bored halfway through.
The shapes form something abstract, like when you're at the shrink’s office having to describe what you see on those sheets of inky disasters.
Maybe one of these days we’ll get to that too. Who knows.
The only sound in the isolation room is the drip of the AC leaking in the corner. Three beats, then a pause. Over and over. It falls into the same timing as A Demon Like You, the track I produced for Indy Hamilton a few months ago.
Being able to pick it up comforts me. Seems like I’m not completely out of tune after all.
Indy, Indy, Indy.
That was a good time. Joan’s friend reached out to me to produce a solo track for her. Somehow it turned into a number one hit in the UK, climbing the charts in the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, and France. Now it’s even picking up in the United States.
Didn’t see that coming. I have to thank the power of social media for that.
The sharp pain in my hands takes me back to reality. They’re both wrapped in thick bandages, a reminder of how fucking stupid last night was.
Fucking silence.
And now I’m here, locked in a sterile white room, sleeping on a prison-thin mattress with nothing but the sound of dripping water and my own thoughts.
I hate being alone with my thoughts.
So earlier, I played this stupid game where I counted my one-night stands, starting from the most recent, working backward until my memory gave out.
Things got blurry when I was about three years in.
I made it to seven. Then a few from thirteen, fifteen… and of course the one from twenty years ago.
After that, I hated the game.
And myself.
And this fucking white prison room with its fucking leaky AC that won’t shut up.
I try to move my fingers. First on my right hand, then my left. The bandages are tight, but I can still move them. At least that’s something. The pain’s there, but if this is it, I can handle it.
I start humming and then go for Indy’s vocals. She would have laughed her ass off if she could see me right now. My mind goes back to that one night when Indy showed up at my door with a bottle of Dom, all giggly and a little drunk after dinner with her friends.
It had been pouring, and being the true gentleman that I am, I didn’t leave her standing in the rain.
It could have turned into a night of frenzied sex, but instead we’d crashed on the couch, dissecting the rise and fall of modern life, comparing society to The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymus Bosch.
While lifting that decadent bottle of champagne to our mouths, we ranted about the struggle to keep up in a world that seemed hell-bent on dismantling the very values we should be living for.
Like love.
Not that I’d ever truly felt it, but it sounded very Woodstocky spilled from my drunken mouth.
By the time we reached the bottom of the bottle, we sealed a pinky promise: no one would ever tell us what’s right or wrong. We’d follow our hearts.
After that, she passed out on my lap. That was fine. I passed out too.
I hear the lock click and shoot up from the mattress. Yosh stands in the doorway, staring at me.
I expect disappointment to be written all over his face, but there is none. Instead, his eyes are full of worry and care.
That kills me. Being a disappointment is so much easier.
Still, I can’t hold back a nervous laugh.
“What’s funny?” Yosh’s expression shifts to annoyance.
“Nothing, it’s just…” I cover my mouth with my bandaged hammer of a hand. “It’s refreshing to see someone other than Jay bailing me out.”
He rolls his eyes as I catch the slightest curl tugging at his lips. He’s trying to stay in his role, except dear Yosh, is what people would call an open book.
He kneels beside me.
“This isn’t something to joke about, Tom. You need to understand that.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I really am.”
His gaze goes from my hands to the scratches on my arms.
“What happened?”
“The silence paid me a visit and I panicked. I smashed my fists against the wall. And my guitar too.”
I’m not able to look him in the eye.
“I threw my guitar over the terrace wall, then climbed up to watch it disappear. I never meant to… not really. I mean, it all happened so fast.”
I know I sound unhinged. I hope he understands what I’m trying to say.
His eyes are like crystal beads, concerned and free of judgment. And God, that makes it so much worse.
“You’re telling me the truth, right? You weren’t…”
“No. Absolutely not.”
He lets out a slow breath, and with that, I see the tension in his shoulders ease.
“God, that’s such a relief.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your day off.”
“Don’t worry about it. I had all my meetings wrapped up when Erin called. I was already on my way to West Cove.”
There’s a hint of frustration on his face as he stares at the wall.
“I’m getting you out of here.”
His fists clench as he stomps out. It makes me wonder if someone’s about to lose their job for tossing me into the most unwanted Monopoly box.
It’s about fifteen minutes later when the door slams open with brutal force. Yosh stands in the doorway, looking absolutely pissed.
I guess shit went down behind those sterile white walls.
“Come with me,” he growls before disappearing down the hall.
What the helly…
I get off the floor and hurry after him. Yosh storms down the resort grounds like he’s got somewhere to be yesterday.
We stop in front of my studio.
“Take a shower. Meet me at the front desk in thirty minutes.”
“Easy, Yosh. Focus on your breathing.” I absolutely love how Mister Chamomile Tea is losing control.
His shoulders tense, and I swear the shiver running up his spine makes him a little taller for a second.
“Just be there, Tom.”
And so I am. Ten minutes early, even. I sit on a wooden bench near the front desk, watching the seconds tick by until I see my spicy habanero approaching.
I get to my feet, but Yosh walks straight past me like I’m not even there.
So I follow, tail between my legs.
There aren’t many cars left in the parking lot at this hour. It looks like everyone with a life has already gone home.
We head straight for the one car that shines like heavenly beams at the pearly gates—a neon- green off-road vehicle, looking like an exotic insect.
He surprises me with that one, I was sure he’d be a boring sedan guy. The sticker on the side that reads Gremlin surprises me even more.
Fits him, though. The owner’s a bit like that now.
“Sweet ride,” I say as I slide into the passenger seat.
He gives me a quick smile, but then his face hardens again. The wildfire in his eyes is something I haven’t seen often in my life. Strangely, feeling that energy from him sends my adrenaline spiking.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“We’re getting some fresh air. You need it.”
“I need it?” I study his face. Yeah, he’s about to explode from the inside. I can tell by the way his eyes dart back and forth, sifting through a million thoughts and frustrations.
“You know you can tell me anything, Yosh.” I drop my voice to match his calm-therapist tone just to poke him a little more.
That makes him burst into laughter, shaking his head and looking up at the sky.
“Dear universe, why did you send this one to me?”
I give him a playful shove before the mood turns serious again.
“I want to apologize again, Yosh. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”
“Stop. This isn’t your fault. I’m in this feud with one of my coworkers.
We’re both running for head of the alternative healing department, so locking you up was nothing more than an act of sabotage.
I confronted him a few minutes ago and… well, I lost my temper.
I shouldn’t have, because he was already calling security on me. ”
I chuckle. Is this the same guy who hands me crystals for calmness and healing?
“Maybe you shouldn’t have skipped that afternoon meditation, Yosh.”
He shoots me a narrowed look. “You’re impossible, McKenna.”
I smirk and leave it there.
The paved road turns into a rough dirt path full of potholes, but Yosh maneuvers around them without losing speed. He drives like a badass biker, and it completely fucks with my head how many sides he’s got when he’s not busy being perfect and zen.
A few minutes later, we pull into a circular parking lot, and right in front of us, Playa Tortuga is glowing in the golden sunlight.
I swallow an unexpected emotion away. It’s strange how the world keeps moving, changing, modernizing, yet some places stay exactly the same. I changed, I went through things, I got older. But this, this right here still looks like the same piece of paradise Calvin showed me ten years ago.
I frame it between my thumbs and index fingers, capturing the view like a postcard.
Life moves slower here in the Caribbean. So much slower than the constant rush in Amsterdam. This island is a sanctuary, for real. It’s starting to grow on me.
I walk up to the viewpoint at the edge of the cliff and watch the sun melt into the horizon. Right here, right now, I want to make a promise to myself to never take moments like these for granted.
Yosh stands beside me now. I turn to him.
“I’m grateful,” I whisper.
He looks content and more at ease. He was right. I needed fresh air and this breathtaking view. He needed it too.
We walk down the steps. I slip off my slides and let the warm, soft white sand cushion my feet. The last tourists of the day are packing up, leaving the beach entirely to us. We find a spot near the center of the bay and sit down.
The skyline looks even more magnificent than yesterday. Maybe not being alone has something to do with it as well.
My feet shovel into the sand until they disappear. I pull my knees closer to my chest and rest my arms on them.
“Again, I’m sorry about the whole isolation situation. I don’t mean to, but somehow I always get into trouble.”
A few curls fall into my eyes, turning the horizon into a blur of orange and pink. I could push them back, but I don’t really mind seeing the world a little out of focus.
I’m such a fucking cliché, avoiding eye contact the second things get uncomfortable.
Yosh doesn’t let me get away with it.
“I don’t think you mean to cause trouble,” he says. “It’s how you cope when something gets too close. You take control in the moment. The regret part comes later.”
He studies me in that unnervingly accurate way of his. We are definitely doing the talking thing again.
“Take our first conversation. The moment something touched one of your inner layers, your instinct was to flip the situation and take charge. That’s your defense.”
I look up and meet his eyes. He’s spilling his own truth, and I wonder if he even realizes it.
It’s funny he brings that up, because that wasn’t our first conversation. That happened by the pool, when he introduced himself and then took off like he robbed a convenience store.
“Just like some people respond by running when someone gets too close to their inner layers?”
“Yes, it’s called the fight-or-flight response.”
No, he definitely doesn’t realize it.
“Interesting,” I hum.
“I’m really sorry about what happened with Terrence,” he says. “And I’m also sorry I wasn’t there when you needed support. They should’ve called me, I would’ve come straight back. If you want to file a complaint, work with someone else, or even leave Arcadia, I would understand.”
“Leave? Nah, nah, it’s fine,” I mumble.
Arcadia, complaints, Terrence, all of that is background noise compared to what’s actually going on in my head right now.
I curl my fingers into the sand, feeling the grains slip beneath my touch and glide into the bandages around my hands.
My mind has been spiraling in roller-coaster loops for too many years, loops I couldn’t break.
But here, at this paradise beach, with Yosh next me, I feel something close to being ready.
I stare at the patterns my fingertips leave in the sand, then look up to meet his eyes.
It’s time. No more running. No more fighting.
The silence dares me to back down, but fuck that, I’m not letting it win.
I’m doing this.
I’m going to tell Yosh the truth.