22. Charli
CHARLI
It’s an overcast weekday in Seascape and there’s a lull in the day for The Sweet Spot; we’re cleaning and straightening the prep counter.
“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” I ask Oliver.
He pauses what he’s doing, slicing more tomatoes for sandwiches. “Is this about work or your personal life? We may get busy again any minute now.”
“Well,” I begin as I twist my hands in my apron. “I think I’m going to take a trip to Iceland with a women’s travel group.”
He snorts a laugh. “Wow! Iceland! Good for you. That is not what I thought that you would tell me.”
“What did you think I was going to say?” I ask as I put my hand on my hip.
He rolls his eyes at me. “I figured it would be some more advice about Gage.”
“No. You’re not sensitive enough. And I want to go the week after Labor Day for five days.”
“Oh.” He purses his lips.
“Yeah, I know that would put more pressure on you and we might still be kind of busy.”
He gives me a slow nod. “I know it means a lot to you and I’m happy you’re going for it. We’ll survive without you.”
“Thanks.”
Now he starts fiddling with the towel. “Can we move forward on the paperwork for the business before you go?”
“Yeah, I messaged Ian and he’ll be down this weekend. Let’s talk to him in person.” I stuff my hands in my apron pocket. “It’ll be good to have that done before my trip.”
His mouth forms a tight line. “I don’t want becoming business partners to affect our friendship negatively.”
“Seriously? We’ll be friends forever.” I wrap him in a big hug. “I could never have done this without you from the beginning. It’ll be good to make it official.”
* * *
My mind is busy all day while I work. I mess up order after order until Oliver urges me to work on next week’s purchases.
In the cramped office, I toggle between thoughts of Gage, my conversation with Oliver, and traveling to Iceland. The spreadsheet on my computer morphs into memories of Gage’s muscular body holding me all night, dark blonde hair on my pillow, and his steady heartbeat under my hand.
I swirl my iced coffee and open another tab and click through local retail spaces up for lease. Nothing catches my eye. It’s no use, I can’t focus on anything.
My phone pings with a notification from the travel blog.
Book Now and get an EXCURSION voucher.
I’m turning into an anxious mess. I want the weekend to be here so I can talk to Andi and Sam.
In the afternoon, I go for a solo paddle at Seal Rock Beach.
There are a few other people here along with a group of campers and their counselors playing in the sand.
I spray on some sunscreen and strap on my lifejacket before wading into the water to settle on my board.
My body takes over as I paddle out toward the edge of the cove.
I feel good about my talk with Oliver. We still need to go over details about the partnership, but The Sweet Spot is a solid business, making a modest profit every month, which can be unheard of in the bakery business. He’s been a part of the success every step of the way.
The sun glints on the surface of the water, and warms my skin. A few small waves roll past me as a small fishing boat motors by the mouth of the cove. I steady myself on the board and watch the ripples.
In the beginning, we did our research and put together a good offering in a trusted location.
Oliver and I had worked together in the old Seascape Bakery during high school, and then we went to college together.
He majored in business and I studied baking, pastry arts and food service management.
I knew that this was the field I wanted to be in from the start. I’ve never doubted myself there.
Now there are tons of local customers and we catch tourists in the summer season. Expanding to another location will be hard work, but it’s time.
I approach the rocks where the seals usually sit. There are none here in the heat of the day, but little fish swim below the surface in the shallow water. A pang of excitement hits me about taking a trip to Iceland. I might really go for it.
The kids along the shore are yelling in the distance as I circle around the cove.
They’re practicing skipping rocks. Ian and I used to come here with Pop when we were young to do the same thing.
A hot breeze rolls across the water at me as I paddle to the other side of the cove to circle back to shore.
There’s a few messages on my phone when I return.
Gage: Sorry about the weekend. I’m pretty booked up.
Me: It’s okay, it’s your business.
Gage: I still want to see you.
I snap a selfie of me, with the cove in the background and send it to him.
Gage: So beautiful.
Me: Me or the beach.
Gage: Both <3
I do a little shimmy dance by my vehicle. When I see him tomorrow, I’m going to tell him I don’t want to be only friends anymore. If I’m honest with him, maybe the rest of my life will fall into place.
Me: We can hang out at night.
Gage: Work is getting in the way.
And just as quickly as he had me all giddy, I’m crashing back down. I rake my hand through my windblown hair. Taking a deep breath, I drop my phone in my bag and stare out at the cove as small waves roll in, shuffling the small rocks along the edge of the water.
For every step forward I take, it seems like any small obstacle pushes me two steps backward.
It’s like my goals and dreams are at the top of a steep mountain on a neverending trail.
A few text messages from Tyler were like giant boulders blocking my path and I had no idea how to navigate around them.
I don’t want to be with Tyler anymore. I’m sure of that. But, when his name popped up on my screen, it made me feel like I was back to being the woman who did what everyone expected. The old me. The one who was afraid to put herself first.
I held onto my relationship with Tyler for so long out of the fear that he would abandon me like my mom did. Little did I know it would be a trap that would keep me from changing. The best thing I did for both of us was to move on.
Kicking a rock toward the shore, I pinch the bridge of my nose. The clouds shift, casting me in a shadow as they pass. I know I’m avoiding my feelings for Gage. My behavior is not only hurting me, I’m hurting him. I know that after what he said to me the other night.
I can’t let my past define me. It will always be a part of me, but it doesn't need to dictate my future.
But, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of caring too much. Emotions well in my throat, forming a lump. I turn back to the beach and walk up to my bag slowly. Grabbing my phone, I send one more message to Gage.
I have to see him. I have to talk to him. I have to tell him how I feel.
Me: I’m off tomorrow. I want to see you. ;)