Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“Ahh,” I sigh out, my back screaming and my eyes burning as I open them. Finding myself on my living room floor, the box I brought back from the cottage is strewn out around me, and the bottle of wine lies empty on the rug next to me.
Throwing my arms across my eyes to block out the sun pouring in, “That wasn’t smart,” I tell myself, knowing we don’t listen.
Forcing myself into a seated position, my eyes scan the contents on the floor, and I see the picture.
Letting out a moan, I pick up its jagged pieces, laying them on the rug, trying to put the puzzle back together.
It’s a picture of Bohdi and me on the Fourth of July, the year we took the float when we were just friends, but both wanted something more.
I stack the torn pieces together, not wanting to throw them away.
Placing them in my mom’s jewelry box, I sit in the middle of the floor, gazing out of the sliding glass door.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask the quiet room, like it's going to answer me.
Because I truly don’t know what to do. Before I went to Driftwood Bay, I thought I knew exactly what the plan was. Sell as fast as I can, but now that I went, I’m conflicted. And maybe that’s why I never went back once I left. Knowing it has a pull on me, like a Siren.
At this moment in my life, for the first time since I moved here, I have no job. I quit my corporate nine-to-five once my dad became sick. I wanted to spend as much time with him as he had left, and that’s exactly what I did.
My father came from money, but he didn’t act like it. The only sign he had anything was that he owned an oceanfront cottage, which was his summer home, that became their forever home once I graduated high school.
With his death came my inheritance, which is allowing me time to process his passing, take care of things, and pursue my dream of owning a bakery.
That was his one stipulation: to open my bakery.
He knew how badly I wanted to chase that dream, but it never happened.
He made me promise him that I would. And I’m going to keep that promise, no matter how long it takes me.
Forcing my body off the floor, I need coffee and to figure out my life.
As I’m making a cup of coffee, my phone chimes with an incoming text.
I hear it but can’t find it until I move the box, and it’s laying under it.
Pushing the text, it opens.
Ms. Graft, when you have a chance, please call me. Bo told me you decided to sell on your own, and I think that’s a bad idea.
Biting my lip, I don’t answer it. Tossing my phone onto the counter, I busy myself with my cup of coffee.
Curious how Bohdi told her I’d rather sell myself than be with him. I know he couldn’t have told her we have a past. That would have probably brought up some fights with him and his fiancé.
Do I really want to take that on myself? It would be easier if I had someone do it all for me; then I could just sign the paper and be done.
Rolling my eyes, I pick my phone back up.
Mrs. Williams, I was thinking about it, but I’ve decided to stay with your company. Please let me know what we need to do to move forward.
I hit send before I can chicken out.
Taking a sip of my coffee, Luna jumps onto the counter, trying to graze my arm. “Girl, your timer is fixing to go off, and you can eat,” I tell her, knowing she understands me.
Within a minute, her automatic food dispenser sounds, and she’s hauling butt to it. I chuckle watching her slide across the slick floor.
Finishing my cup of coffee, I look around the apartment for something to do, but there isn’t anything. I don’t have much, so it stays clean, and hell, it’s just Luna and me here. It’s Thursday, so the few friends I do have are at work.
Forcing myself to the living room, I pick up all the pictures, looking at each one more intently.
You can see the change from my twenty-first to my twenty-second picture.
On my twenty-first birthday, the smile was so wide, hair wind-dried, sun-kissed tan, and my gaze was on Bohdi, who was standing next to my dad behind my mom, who was taking my picture…the last one she took right before she died.
Then I look at the next. It’s just me sitting on the cottage porch, hair in a bun, smile barely there, eyes hollow. The summer I would leave Driftwood Bay.
All these pictures tell a story. From the time I was two till I was twenty-two.
It was my mother’s tradition, but my dad was the one to take the final one there.
He didn’t want it to end, and I couldn’t tell him no.
But I know when he looked through that lens, he truly saw me.
And I think that is why he never fought me on leaving and not coming back.
He saw me for the first time when taking that picture.
Placing the pictures back into the box, I smile when I see Baylee and me. Carefree at a bonfire, Kai on one side of her and me on the other side of her. She was so in love with him but didn’t want to tell him. I missed her finally telling him, and now they’re married.
Tears come to my eyes. We were supposed to be each other’s Maid of Honor. Help plan and make futures together, and I just left her like she didn’t matter. But she did; my grief was just too thick.
Wiping a tear from my cheek, my phone rings, startling me.
I take my time going to it, hoping whoever it is will give up, but they don’t.
Hitting accept, I put it on speakerphone.
“Hello,” I say, exasperated, already.
The other line is quiet until it’s not. The word feels so loud, even though it’s spoken softly: “August.”
My breathing spikes; words are stuck in my throat, clearing it, I say, “Yes.” I know who it is; I’d forever know that voice.
“It’s Bo,” he says, like I wouldn’t know his voice in the dark. “Kate told me you’re back on with us putting the cottage up for sale for you.” His words are hesitant, maybe scared I’ll freak out again.
My hand has a vice grip on the phone. “Yeah.” It seems like I can only get one word out at a time.
“We need to get some papers to you that you need to sign and get back to us before we can list the cottage.”
My face morphs. I don’t want to go back to sign these papers.
I think, but never say the words.
“I know this is hard, August, but we’re here to help.” His voice cracks a bit, but I act like I didn’t hear it or heard the voice that belonged to my Bohdi.
“Okay, let’s get this going. And can you email me the documents?” Hoping he says yes.
“I can get them over to you today.”
I give him my email address, and it’s just like a normal business conversation, which felt weird and not right.
When we hang up, I feel like I can breathe once again.
My hand unclenches the phone, the indentions of it tattooed on my hand.
“What the hell am I doing?”
They take no time to send me the email, scared I’ll back out again. I go through them, sign the documents, and send them right back, wasting no time.
My shoulders feel heavy, or maybe that’s my spirit. Because my soul and mind are currently at odds. My brain tells me this is the best thing, but my heart does not agree.
Shutting my sliding door blinds, I crumple onto my sofa, turning on the TV. In an instant, I have DoorDash pulled up on my phone and am ordering Chinese and doing a double-dash for ice cream and chocolate chip cookies because I’m not in the right mindset to make homemade ones.
The TV plays without me paying attention, serving as background noise as I drift off, until my doorbell rings, startling me.
Jumping up, I’m met with my DoorDash sitting at my door.
Throwing the ice cream into the freezer, I take the bag of Chinese food and cookies back to my sofa.
As I eat, I look around my apartment, feeling nothing for it. Maybe I can sell the cottage and then let this apartment go, find myself an actual home, somewhere to lay down roots, finally.
Taking a bite of my egg roll, I shake it, agreeing that that’s a good idea. I look at the picture of my mom and dad on their wedding day, which now adorns my bland TV console. “I need you two to help me. Help me a bit, guys.” I pray before taking a bite of my chicken fried rice.
I lay in my bed, full and cuddled with Luna.
The only sound is my machine that plays wave noises.
Even after all these years and the shit I went through, the waves are the only thing that lulls me to sleep every night.
My one comfort. And almost every night, I talk to them.
They don’t talk back, just listen and let me get out what I need to get out. Weird, but it’s what works for me.