Chapter 5
When I was little, I loved filling my nose with the breeze from the ocean.
I used to roll down my car window and greedily breathe in the salty air as soon as I knew we were getting close to the sea.
I closed my eyes, felt the wind in my hair and .
. . I don’t know. Felt at home? Mom used to yell from the front seat that I had to roll up the window again because, according to her, the car’s AC stopped working when you opened the windows.
But Dad softly squeezed her leg, smiled, and asked her, Can a couple of minutes really hurt?
June needs this. It’s her moment. And Mom sighed, still stressed about the AC, but let me be.
Dad was right, it was my moment. Somehow, he always knew.
I don’t open the window when I drive into Pearlband Beach in my rental car, even though I can tell after just one look that this town’s air is filled with a salty sprinkle.
I get the feeling that this town is a salty breeze from the ocean.
Still, I’m not interested in filling my nose with it, because if I got to choose, I wouldn’t be here.
I roll my eyes when I see the sign welcoming me. Pearlband Beach, a hidden treasure. Hidden treasure my ass. More like a hiding place so I can try to forget what happened in New York. Try to hide from the humiliation.
It’s early afternoon, and the sun is still high in the baby blue sky.
Not a single cloud is to be seen, just a couple of seagulls gliding carefree above, maybe looking for something to eat.
People are probably done with their lunches and heading back to the beach, or so it seems by the lack of people on the streets.
A couple of locals—or what I guess are locals—stand in the shade, fanning their faces.
I follow the GPS and pull off Main Street, cross a couple of smaller streets, and keep driving for a few minutes before I reach the smallest street I believe I’ve ever seen.
There are only five houses, lined in a row with a backdrop of high trees.
I double-check the address and pass the first four houses before I reach the fifth—Liz’s. Or mine.
I turn off the engine and stare out the windshield, all of a sudden unable to move.
It all feels so surreal. Here I am, on the world’s smallest street, in the world’s smallest town, staring at a house I’ve never seen before, but that I apparently own.
How? How did I end up here? Fuck. I close my eyes and drop my head against the wheel. What have I done?
I jolt when my phone starts ringing on the seat beside me, bursting my bubble. I know who it is before I even see the screen.
“Okay, tell me everything!” Clara’s voice is dripping with enthusiasm, as it has been since I told her what happened and where I was going.
“Everything at this point is picking up the keys, driving into town, and now looking at the house.”
“Why are you looking at the house? Why aren’t you in the house?”
“Because I just got here. You called me as I turned off the engine.” Ish.
“Yay! I get to be there from the beginning! Facetime now, please.”
I obey and wave at her with a forced smile before turning the camera. Clara shrieks when she sees the house.
“Oh my god, it’s so cute!”
Involuntarily, I have to admit that it actually is. It is cute. But that doesn’t mean that I like it or that I want to be here. I really don’t.
It’s a small house, painted in a dusty green color and with a white porch at the front.
The yard is not big but feels private even with the neighbor next door.
The grass is high and wild, and the flowerbeds under the windows are full of weeds.
But the pink rose bush to the left of the porch is actually magnificent.
Without knowing anything about her, I think Liz was someone who cared about her garden. It just feels that way.
“Get out of the car, woman! I want to see the rest!”
I obey again, driven by that constant wish to always give Clara what she wants, but the smell that hits me when I open the door makes me stop immediately. Pine and salty ocean. I close my eyes when a weird shiver travels over every inch of my body.
“Juju? What happened? Why did you stop?”
I open my eyes again and blink a few times. What am I doing? “Sorry. I had to stretch a little, I’ve been sitting for too long.”
“Makes sense but please continue now,” she begs with poorly hidden eagerness.
I pick up the keys from my bag and walk up to the door even though all I want to do is turn around, get in the car again, and drive the rental car out of this town.
“Look, Juju! A porch swing. You’ve always wanted one of those. Remember how you used to nag Mom and Dad to get them to buy you one? You said you wanted to sit there every evening and read your books.”
Yeah, I remember. It was the coziest thing I could think of as a kid but now, all I see is a sofa where you sit and do nothing. And I don’t want to do nothing. Before I get a chance to say anything, Clara squeaks:
“This is so exciting!”
I turn the key in the lock, and feel suddenly relieved I have her here, because what if something happens? Like a ghost pops out.
“You’re not afraid of ghosts, are you?”
“What are you, a mind reader?”
She chuckles. “Just a June reader.”
I open the door and cross the threshold to a small hall.
It smells like houses that have been closed for a while do, like there’s no air.
I walk us around the small space and must admit it looks tidy.
In need of a big cleaning, yes, but not messy at all.
Liz seemed to like orderliness. We had that in common apparently.
There’s a small kitchen, a living room, one bedroom, and a bathroom with a bathtub. It’s much bigger than my apartment in New York.
“A fireplace!” Clara shouts from my phone. “We can make s’mores there if I come visit you this fall.”
I take a deep breath, bracing myself. “I won’t be here this fall, Clara.”
“Yeah, yeah, but please make s’mores for me. You can call me one night soon, and we’ll make s’mores over Facetime, okay?”
I can’t help my smile. Her enthusiasm is admirable. “Deal.” I nod.
“What are you going to do now? Take a bath? The tub looked lovely.”
“I have to fill the fridge, and then I also need to go pick up Liz’s cactus.”
“Her what?”
“Cactus. It’s left with someone in town for some reason, and it was important that I picked it up as soon as I got here.”
“Why isn’t the cactus left in the house?”
“I don’t know.” I look around. “They left other plants here that clearly needed water a couple of weeks ago, but the only one that can survive without water has been left somewhere else. Makes super much sense.”
“Must be a very special cactus.”
“Yeah, must be.”
We hang up, but before we do, Clara’s voice becomes soft. “Everything will be okay, Juju. You know that, right?”
“I know,” I lie because, as always, I want to comfort her. All she does is encourage me, and I don’t want to be the rain on her parade. I never want to be the rain on any of her parades.
I’m left alone in the silence of this foreign house. I take a couple of deep breaths before I go back out on the porch again, and that’s when I hear it. It’s distant, but it’s there—the sound of the ocean.
I take the car into town and start at the grocery store.
It’s bigger than I expected. I take my time, walking up and down the different aisles, looking for things I might need.
It’s been ages since I went to a grocery store to shop like this.
Since I had time to shop like this. In New York, I only go there to buy the most essential things, and I rarely cook.
My dinners consist of takeout because I don’t have time for anything else.
Even though I actually really like cooking. Or at least I used to.
The first thing I place in my basket is a bottle of wine. A big damn bottle. A bottle I’ll be drinking in the bathtub tonight and honestly, I don’t completely hate the thought of it.
I spot him almost immediately. First at the dental health section, then in the pasta aisle, and then again by the dairy section.
He’s tall, probably over six feet four, so he’s pretty hard not to see.
Dark blonde hair and tanned skin. Jeans and a gray T-shirt.
I don’t know why, but there’s something with him that annoys me. Judgmental for no reason? Me? Yup.
I glance discreetly in his direction when I pass him by the coolers and immediately look away when he lifts his head and our eyes lock. I quickly pick up a package of ground beef and continue down the aisle. As I walk, I hear a clasp of hands, followed by a woman’s voice.
“You’re coming alone today? Audrey isn’t with you?”
I presume he’s shaking his head or something, because the woman soon adds:
“Oh, give that sweetheart a hug from me, will you?”
So, he has a girlfriend, or a wife. It’s not like I care.
I pick the rest of the ingredients for lasagna, and I’m almost at the checkout when I remember I forgot garlic. With a loud sigh, I make a U-turn.
I spot a tanned arm before I see the rest of the body and have to stifle another sigh. What the fuck, is he everywhere? Without a look, I reach for the garlic, careful not to touch him. I’m already on my way to the checkout again when I hear a deep and serious voice. “Are you stalking me?”
I turn on my heel. “Excuse me? No!”
He shrugs his shoulders and turns his gaze back to the onions he was picking. “Okay, if you say so.”
I frown. “What do you mean ‘if I say so’? Why would I be stalking you? I don’t know you.”
“Oh, so you only stalk people you know.”
It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Who is this man?! “What? I’m not a stalker. And I can ask you the same thing. You’ve been everywhere I need to be ever since I got here.”
“Yeah, but I was here first. If I were a stalker, I’d be following you. Can’t remember I have.”
I turn to look him straight in the eyes. Is he for real? Is he serious right now? What kind of lunatic city is this? Dark green eyes meet mine. Dark green eyes and a smirk. Wow, he really is an asshole.
“I haven’t been following you either.”
He cocks an eyebrow, and I snort and scoff before I start walking again.
“You wish,” I mutter and turn for the checkout. I can’t explain how, but I know he’s watching me as I leave, and a superior chuckle follows me all the way to the doors. What an idiot. And it really annoys me that he was handsome, too. What a waste.
If that’s how people are around here, then it’s going to be a couple of long and insufferable weeks.
Irritated and tired, I finally shut the car door and slump back against the seat.
I already hate this town. Why did Liz have to move here of all places?
Was she aiming to find the smallest town with the most unpleasant residents?
If the answer is yes, then why?! She could’ve moved anywhere but chose—
I’m abruptly interrupted by a hard knock on my window, and I jolt in my seat.
All I see when I turn my head is a gray T-shirt that looks like it’s of good quality.
Pima Cotton maybe. But not the point because I recognize that T-shirt.
Only minutes ago, I wanted to throw garlic at that very T-shirt. What the hell is this guy’s problem?
With a loud sigh that almost sounds like a groan, I roll down the window. “Yes?”
“Do you know what a driver’s license is?”
“Why, are you the police?”
“You don’t have to be the police to know you clearly have no idea what traffic rules are.”
I’m still staring at the T-shirt since he hasn’t bothered to bend down and talk to me like a normal person. “And you don’t have to be a psychotherapist to know that you clearly have an inferiority complex, making you roleplay a traffic cop.”
Something sounding like a disbelieving huff or laugh comes from above before he leans down with an arm propped on the roof.
His look at me is one of open complacency.
“You’re blocking a fire hydrant.” I swing my head around and suppress a curse when my eyes land on a fire hydrant that I’m definitely blocking.
My head’s been too full of everything happening in my life lately, so my attention hasn’t been what it usually is.
I take a deep breath, plaster a fake smile on my face, and turn back. The green eyes are already watching me. “Congratulations, officer. You’re right. Now what, handcuffs?”
He stares at me for what feels like an eternity before he shrugs nonchalantly. “Nah. Don’t want to waste a good pair of handcuffs.”
“You sure? Seems like that would really make your day.”
He smirks before leaning in an inch. “Move the car.”
Without breaking eye contact, I push the window button again and smile when he flinches and hastily needs to move his head.
And without giving him another glance, I put the car in drive and make my way out of there.
I don’t bother looking in the rearview mirror, but I know I was right to be judgmental. That man is an asshole.