Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ELLIOT
I ’m stuck in traffic—again.
Living in the city is convenient, but most of the time, it’s annoying to move around when the streets are crowded with cars all the time.
This is yet another sign that it’s time to get out of San Francisco—my annoyance with the city increases by the second.
If I were to stay here any longer, I’d move back to Santa Cruz or find a house in Paradise Bay. I’m starting to like the town more and more. There’s a lot close to the Spearmans’ place. I could build a house. There’s also another vineyard that’s close by.
Well, from what Lysander said, it used to be a vineyard back in the late nineties, but it closed more than twenty years ago. The owners left, and now their children are trying to sell it. The house needs a lot of work, but that’s exactly how North Bay started, by flipping homes.
There’s a second option, tear it down and design a new house that’s not only sustainable but perfect for a family.
That’s what I planned to do, build homes.
However, I went from flipping houses to commercial construction and maintenance almost immediately.
As with everything in my life, I had to concentrate on the bottom line and not on what made me the happiest.
I’m proud of what I built. In no way am I complaining about the success of my company, but sometimes, I wonder how life would’ve turned out if I had followed my dreams. I don’t even know if that’s part of the regrets I keep accumulating or if I’m okay with the way things turned out.
Can I even change the trajectory of my life?
Where is it going?
One day I stopped wondering about the direction. I surf along the monster wave that’s life. A barreling wave where we’re trapped in and it’s almost impossible to avoid. The white water overtakes the person and sucks them deep, holding them down.
You’re so deep that it’s impossible to come back to the surface.
It barely lets you breathe.
Life surfing isn’t fun. Not the way it used to be back when I was young. It was the beauty of living in Santa Cruz, right by the ocean. Every morning, I would grab my board and ride the waves until Mom called, telling me it was time for school.
But it’s time to do something different with my life. The community Fern is building has a solid foundation. She doesn’t need me anymore, not that she really did to begin with. Something tells me that she would’ve found a way to work this out without me. Fern Spearman is independent.
The protector in me hates it, and yet, I’m attracted to her because she’s independent.
Sometimes I miss that feeling of being essential to my loved ones.
Ironic, since I hated being the man of the house after Dad died.
But then, after the accident that took Mom and my sister, Dahlia, away, my brother and my other two sisters drifted apart.
They moved out of state, claiming it was too expensive.
Maybe I should be doing the same, find a new home—or just a home for that matter. But it’s so much safer to keep moving around from one project to another. One charity to the next.
Kyle swears that a part of me is looking for someone to ground me.
I think he’s wrong. I missed my chance to have a family of my own, and it’s okay.
Hazel was the love of my life. At least, that’s what I think she was.
I gave her up when I realized someone else had captured her heart.
If not, I would’ve fought for her until I convinced her that we were meant to be together for eternity.
That’s what she said the first time we said I love you.
I don’t love her anymore, not like I did when we were young. Everyone insists that I should try falling for someone new. It’s not that I haven’t tried. It’s just impossible to love when you’ve given everything away.
I’m hollow.
There’s nothing left of me to salvage. It’s the devastating, soul-shattering truth.
There’s nothing left of the old me. After all these years, I learned not to lean on anyone because what’s the point of having a relationship when, in the end, they’ll ask for more.
I don’t have anything to offer—not even a place in my bed.
My phone rings, and it’s Kyle. “Hey,” I answer.
“You know what I was thinking?”
“No, but I’ll send you a plate to commemorate that you’re still using your brain, old man.”
He grunts. “Fuck off. I’m only six months older than you. Are you coming to celebrate my birthday?”
“Obviously, or my sister might stop talking to me.”
“There’s that too. She’s taking this birthday too seriously.”
“Tell her you don’t want the clown, but say yes to the face painting,” I joke.
“You’re an asshole.”
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly before muttering, “Beside stating the obvious, what else do you want?”
Kyle doesn’t call just to catch up. When we were young, it was usually to bail him out because he was always causing havoc. Now… I wait to see what he has for me.
“There’s a house next door that’s for sale?—”
“No.” I stop him before we start an argument. He wants me to stop traveling. For me, my sister, and the rest of the family, in that order.
“You need a place to live.”
“I have plenty of spaces where I can crash, depending on where I’m at. I don’t need a big ass house in the burbs but thank you for the heads-up.”
“Your sister worries about you.”
“Cassy worries about everyone. How’s she doing? Baby number six should be here soon.”
“She’s looking beautiful and radiant. I hope that you’ll stick around until the baby is here.”
“Of course, I’ll be there,” I say, instead of telling him that I found a project and that I’d make sure to be back in time to meet my new nephew.
“That was a long silence,” he says. “Should I be concerned?”
“No.”
“You’re already itching to leave. This is the longest you’ve stayed in town. I’ve been wondering when you’ll pack your shit and disappear—or what’s keeping you there.”
Kyle is my best friend, and we’ve shared a lot since we met, but lately, I’ve avoided him.
In the same way I avoid everyone else in my life.
He wants me to be the old Elliot. The problem is that I have no idea which Elliot he’s talking about.
After my father died, I was a different person for almost everyone.
I was a devoted husband for two hours of the day.
An obedient, hardworking son the rest of the time.
Except when I was at the club, dancing. Then, I stripped for women and became a totally different guy.
I didn’t disassociate, but I denied who I was while on stage.
I stopped being Elliot McPhee and became a guy who pleased the women who paid to see me dance just for them.
I can’t go back to being any of them, and maybe that’s why I keep avoiding my family.
“Why do I feel like I’m talking to your car, while you’re driving along?”
“You’re crazy.”
“Probably, but you need to settle down. I didn’t sell you my part of North Bay so you’d become a heartless billionaire. It was so I could start a new life away from SanFran but now… I feel like I did something stupid. If I had stayed?—”
“Cassy and the kids needed to leave.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “And you did too. It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“You have to forgive yourself.”
What is he talking about? “That’s not what I expected you to say.”
“You’re taking the blame for every little thing that’s happened to everyone you loved since your father died. You think you don’t deserve happiness.”
I’m not in the mood to listen to his rant anymore. To shut him up, I say, “Fuck, where did you get that crap, Kyle? Are you high?”
“Don’t fucking joke about that,” he growls.
“Sorry, that was insensitive of me.” He’s a recovering addict, and the last thing I should do is hint that he’s back to it.
“When I started using, it was to avoid life. You might not be buying drugs, but you’re behaving just the same. Everybody misses you, even… She asked me about you the other day.”
Hazel. He doesn’t say her name. I can’t believe they’re still friends. Before I stepped down from North Bay Construction, I dealt with her husband. We manage some of the buildings they own in the city.“Is he still treating her right?”
“Like a queen.”
“Good, I’m glad she’s happy.”
“You should be too,” he insists. “It’s time to let everything that hurts go. You’re holding onto them like a second skin, or your only skin.”
He says it as if it’s simple to forget. That’s why I work so hard, to avoid thinking about the past. It’s also why I stay away.
“Are you going to tell us where you’re going?”
“Soon.”
“You’re still working in San Francisco or just surfing and making me believe you’re a pathetic loser?”
“It’s a volunteer gig,” I correct him without reminding him that I stopped surfing six years ago.
He breathes loudly. “Of course, it is. It is part of your lifetime-community-service-penance for everything you didn’t do.
If you need anything, let me know.” Kyle laughs.
“Like you would. You’d rather lose an arm than ask for help.
One day, something or someone might remind you how to live. Until then, I’m here for you, buddy.”