Chapter 8
Iwake up early the next day. For the first five seconds I’m sure I’ve been Freaky Fridayed because I don’t recognize the small bedroom, the vintage chandelier, or the floral wallpaper, but then it all comes back to me—piece by freaking piece.
Meltdown.
Pearlband Beach.
Cactus.
My life.
Ugh.
I check the time on my phone and must look like a cartoon character when my eyes bulge and I do a double take.
This can’t be right? Have I slept for nine hours?
! Nine? I can’t even remember the last time that happened.
In college maybe? Wow. Nine hours is almost what I sleep in two nights usually, and now I managed to do it in one? Unbelievable.
I feel . . . strangely rested. And I must say, it’s not a completely unpleasant feeling . . .
I shuffle out to the kitchen and make myself some coffee.
Then I fill the dog bowl I found in one of the kitchen cabinets yesterday with the food I got from the vet.
The vet. Just the thought of him makes me annoyed.
That smug asshat with sparkly olive-green eyes and a smirk splashed all over his face.
Luckily, I don’t have to see him anytime soon.
“You better stay healthy,” I say with a warning tone to Cactus as she makes her way into the kitchen.
She doesn’t even bother me with a look, instead she starts eating with good appetite.
I look at her for a moment. “Okay, so you need a walk, and I need a run. Maybe we can combine these two . . . ?”
Ten minutes later, we’re off. Me in my running clothes and Cactus constantly shooting me suspicious glances.
She seems to like coming out, though, and knows exactly where she wants to go, turning immediately to the right as soon as we get on the street.
And I let her lead the way. It is, after all, she who knows this place the best among the two of us.
It’s still very early, but the temperature is already climbing high. The birds are chirping in the trees above, and the air is filled with the smell of pine and salt. I fill my lungs with it. Greedy inhales. Why does it feel like I’m fueling up my entire body?
Cactus is minding her own business and keeps leading the way, not paying me any attention other than the suspicious glances every now and then. It’s like she’s out walking me and not the other way around.
There are no houses here, just nature and a weird feeling of freedom.
I can’t stop it from rioting through me.
My legs walk me faster and faster, as if they know that something important is just around the corner.
I want to run but every time I try, Cactus decides she has to pee.
Sometimes it feels like she’s doing it on purpose.
And all of a sudden, it’s there. The ocean. Blue, twinkling and . . . absolutely breathtaking. I stop abruptly and stare.
The sound.
The smell.
I hate how it makes me feel. Like it’s important. It isn’t. I don’t want to be here.
Cactus watches me like I’m a weirdo, a smooth breeze sweeping through her thick fur. “Okay, come on.” I sigh and let her lead the way down to the water. It’s not much of a wind today, not yet at least, but there’s a quiet rippling curving the deep blue surface.
We walk down to the shoreline where the sand is packed much harder.
My legs are almost shivering with the desire to run.
I shoot Cactus a questioning look. A look that says something like, or actually kind of literally, I gave you food and handled your shit—literally, could you please do this for me?
For a moment, it’s like she evaluates me.
Should she give in? Run with the intruder?
Then, without warning, she takes off. She’s actually running and I can’t believe my eyes. And without hesitating, I follow her. The sun is already warm, licking my bare arms and legs. I listen to the soothing sound of the ocean and to my own rhythmic breathing. It’s almost hypnotizing.
We’re completely alone except for a couple of squawking seagulls, sailing above our heads.
The beach curves like a croissant in the middle, and I suddenly spot something familiar.
A lighthouse. Or more accurately, the lighthouse from one of Clara’s Photoshop artworks.
The irony of me actually being here now is so obvious I want to bury myself under a pile of sand.
She jinxed me. But I’ve always liked lighthouses, so I make a mental note to go visit it during my time here.
What else should I do with all the time I have on my hands now?
I’m in the middle of a step when Cactus halts and I stumble, managing to find my balance right before I shove my face down in the sand.
She sniffs an oddly shaped seashell, and I’m almost one hundred percent sure it’s all an act.
But actually, I’m okay with it. She let me run for at least a few minutes, and I enjoyed every second of it. I needed it.
As we walk back, I glance at the big, blue, glittering ocean and wonder what it would feel like to dive under that sapphire surface. Probably cold and wet and salty and . . . kind of wonderful against my hot skin. Next time, I’ll bring my bikini.
When we get back to the house, someone is standing on the porch. It’s an elderly lady. Her hair is white as cotton candy, and she’s wearing a colorful dress printed with flowers in orange and yellow.
“Hello?” I say, and she turns with a smile.
“Oh, hi, dear!” A couple of curious but friendly eyes meet mine, and her smile grows when she sees Cactus.
“Oh, and hello to you, too, the world’s most precious little thing.
” Cactus wags her tail and pushes us forward to the lady.
The lady chuckles as Cactus presses her whole body against her legs.
“Who’s the cutest dog in the world, yeah, who’s the cutest dog in the world?
” she’s cooing while stroking Cactus’s back.
Cactus gives me a look I’m sure says, See?
Everybody loooves me! I roll my eyes in return.
The woman straightens again. She gives me a warm smile. “I’m sorry, it’s so easy to get caught up with that sweet girl. I’m Margot Anderson, your neighbor. I live two houses down.” I shake her hand and her grip is firm.
“I’m June. June Collins,” I say and return her smile.
“Lovely to meet you, June. I’ve made you an apple pie.” And that’s when I see the pie pan in her hands.
“You made me a pie?” I ask, astonished. I’ve never had a neighbor make me a pie before. Come to think of it, I don’t think anyone has ever made me a pie before.
Margot smiles. “Of course. I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood and tell you that we’re all very friendly.
” She lowers her voice and leans slightly forward.
“Well, maybe not the man in the house at the other end of the street. Mr. Hodge. He’s a little bit grumpy if you ask me.
” She gives me a meaningful look. Then she lights up again.
“But the rest of us are a happy gang. Just come knocking if you need anything.”
“Thank you, that’s very nice of you.”
I accept the apple pie, and the smell of it makes my knees weak. I can’t remember when I last ate one. I must have been a kid.
Margot’s eyes turn glassy, emotion playing behind her light-blue irises. “We were all so sorry to hear about Liz. She was such a ray of sunshine. Cancer is a motherfucker.”
Wow, the elderly ladies I’ve met lately and their one-liners. But I couldn’t agree more. I consider how honest I should be and decide to be completely honest, for some reason. “I actually didn’t know her that well. I met her the last time when I was just a kid.”
“She was your godmother, right?”
“Yes, but she and my mother lost contact many years ago.”
Margot nods thoughtfully. “It happens. Feel free to come by sometime if you want me to tell you about her. I have a lot of great stories.”
“I’d love to.”
“And I also wanted to let you know that I used to watch this little cookie,” she strokes Cactus’s head, “when Liz needed help, and I am more than happy to continue doing that. Just let me know when you need me. I’m home most of the time.”
Well, that was good news.
“Really? Thank you. Would it be rude if I asked you right away? I need to go into town and buy her some food and . . .”
Margot lights up. “Oh, but of course. I’ve missed her so much. I would love to spend some quality time with her.”
“Wow, thank you. Is it okay if I bring her by in an hour or so?”
“Absolutely, honey.”
I thank her again for the pie and then watch her walk down the street. Cactus watches her too, sad puppy eyes in place. “Drama queen,” I mumble and unlock the door.
I have to admit, very reluctantly, that the center of Pearlband Beach is sort of cute.
It’s small—super-duper small—but cute. Main Street is lined with colorful buildings, making me think of Notting Hill, the posh neighborhood in London.
Ah, London. The city my work has brought me to several times. My work . . . Shut up!
After I buy dog food and treats—a lot of treats—I stand dumbfounded for a moment. What am I supposed to do now? My schedule is usually meticulously planned. Not like this . . .
Ultimately, I decide to take a walk down the street. I might as well look around a bit now that I’m here. And Margot told me I didn’t need to hurry back, so I won’t. It’s not like I want to hurry back.
The stores are about to open, and the owners display signs on the sidewalk with today’s special offers. They greet each other and stop to exchange a couple of words before they continue with their day. They nod at me as I walk by, and I nod back.