Chapter 12
12
“G randma Pearl is worried about you,” Damon said as he walked through the front door. Lemony, late-afternoon light poured in behind him as he carried in two motorcycle helmets and placed both on the entryway table.
“Is that so?” Sam called out, loud enough for her grandma to hear. “Pearl is worried about me?”
“Yes, I am!” Pearl called back.
Had her grandma overheard the conversation with Rachel the night before? Damon told Sam he was coming over in the form of a brief text— On my way over —but she didn’t realize he’d been sent on a mission from Pearl.
“She spends too much time gossiping at your bar. And she worries about everything,” Sam quipped back as she shut the door. “Yesterday she told me she thought the delivery guy might be having marriage problems because his hair looked rumpled, like he had to sleep on the sofa.”
“Point taken, but it’s my day off and she made me promise to get you out of the house to have a little fun.” He picked up a deep purple helmet with a palm tree sticker on the side, and she wondered if he’d put that there, or Marissa. He held it out for her. “I’m not in the habit of disappointing Pearl. So what do you say, should we go for a ride?”
The helmet in his hand might as well have been an engagement ring, for all of the weight Sam was putting on it. Logically, she knew this was just a ride on a motorcycle. But was this an opportunity to finally say yes to Damon?
Some part of her was still afraid, though, because what if the universe was right, and she’d been wrong?
So in order to balance the scales, Sam blurted out a reason they couldn’t be together. “Does Marissa know how often you’re seeing me?”
Even she realized that wasn’t quite the right thing to say, but then again, did she know?
Damon squinted. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re here every day,” Sam said. “I just don’t want her to think—”
“Marissa knows we’re old friends,” Damon cut her off. “If that’s what you need to hear.”
An embarrassed flush crossed Sam’s face. Old friends, of course that was what they were. Sam was just confusing her visions of them together with the present. But in the present, they were nothing but platonic to each other. “It’s not what I need to hear. It’s a small town. People talk. I don’t want to be the source of any rumors is all.”
“Come on, no more excuses, Sam-Sam.” Damon reextended the helmet to her.
Sam blinked as she took the helmet. Damon put his black helmet on and signaled for her to follow him. And, despite her reservations, she did.
This wasn’t Sam’s first time on a motorcycle; she’d been on several Vespa bikes throughout her travels, sometimes as the driver and sometimes as the passenger. But watching Damon sling a leg over the seat, rev the engine and then nod for her to hop on was different. Could he feel her thumping heartbeat as he took her hand and wrapped it around his waist? It was humid, and through his thin cotton shirt a few beads of sweat trickled down. What would it be like to trail her hands across the length of him?
He revved the engine again and turned to her. “Hold on tight,” he said.
Then he flipped his visor down, kicked the pedal up and the motorcycle shot forward. Sam tightened her grip around Damon. While the adrenaline had her body tense, she couldn’t stop the grin that broke across her lips. She’d missed the unexpected fun Damon tended to bring to their friendship. When she hesitated, he pushed. If she saw red lights, all he seemed to see were green.
The bike hummed beneath her and their bodies grew flush as he took them through the main street, down past the lighthouse and along the sandy roads. When she’d lived here, they would cruise along the waterfront listening to music. But that had been in his ancient car, and they’d been kids. Now they were both grown, and she could feel the strength of him under her fingertips as the salty sea air mixed with his sweat. He was familiar, and yet she was getting to know him all over again. She was comfortable enough to trust him on this ride, but not to lay her cheek against his back.
When Damon pulled the bike into the parking lot of a beachside strip mall, Sam’s mouth fell open. “Are we...?” Her smile overtook her words.
“This always used to cheer you up.” He parked the bike, killed the engine and peeled off his helmet.
Sam gazed at the awning for Sandy’s Kites and Pizza, a hole-in-the-wall they used to frequent on weekends. The sign had been repainted a blinding white, and a rainbow flag blew in the breeze. Maybe it had new owners? She wondered what else would be different.
“I get to choose first,” she said.
“Fat chance,” he replied. “Whoever’s inside first gets to—”
But before he could finish the sentence, Sam took off at a sprint toward the entrance. Damon trailed at her heels, but she reached the door first. And while he could’ve accused her of cheating, he didn’t, so she let out a courageous whoop .
The inside was so dim compared to the sunshine outside that Sam had to stand in the doorway and allow her eyes to adjust. There was the rental area at the front, with a large wall of hanging kites and a book with photos of more that they kept in the back. Then there was the pizza parlor toward the patio, where guests could order a pie and eat at a metal table in the sand. She hadn’t remembered the arcade games against one wall, or the glittery disco ball above their heads.
“It feels...nicer or something?” she ventured.
“Less grungy, more modern.” Damon pointed at a small table in the corner where a little girl in pigtails was ordering pizza off a touchscreen menu. “But they still serve beer. I’ll get us drinks.”
“And I will get our kites.”
Sam picked an enormous green dragon kite with a lush fat tail, then she’d chosen an aggressively ugly cross-eyed octopus with eight long legs for Damon. She brought them out.
“I’m impressed you’re not making me fly the one that looks like a goat-donkey,” he said.
“You’re enough of an ass without flying the kite version.” She handed him the octopus.
His tongue poked out from the side of his mouth as he took the kite. “You almost make me want to take back the rosé I got you.” He held the can out, and she deftly snagged it.
“What’d you get?” She popped open the lid.
“A bottle of my own beer.” He held up the IPA with the signature Band Practice Brews label. “Don’t judge me.”
“You just make the jokes too easy sometimes.” Sam unspooled the line of the kite, then carried it out into the sand and waited for a strong breeze. The wind kicked up and she tossed the kite into the air, then ran ahead until it caught and soared up. Damon came next to her, his octopus a few feet from her kite. She carefully unspooled more line and let the dragon reach higher into the sky.
Closer to the water, Alligator Alice pumped her arms as she power-walked through the sand. She glanced up and gave a quick wave to Sam and Damon. Sam raised her glass of rosé in return.
“Alligator Alice never quits, does she?” Sam asked in a hushed tone.
“She’ll outlive us all.” Damon swerved his hands to adjust the kite as a breeze drifted through.
Sam slipped off her sandals and dug her toes into the sand. The sun burned hot and bright as it inched toward the water line, and scattered bonfires lit up the shore.
“How come we’re the only adults doing this?” Sam eyed the younger kids flying kites nearby.
“We’ve always been the only cool ones,” he said.
They locked eyes, and he gave her an easy smile. Eventually, he said, “So, you’re really not seeing anyone, huh?”
She looked away, thinking of Marissa. “I’m not. But you are?”
“Casually, yeah,” he said.
Her stomach tightened. Was she really jealous about this? Of course Damon was dating. He was in his thirties, owned his own business and was the walking definition of a glow-up. But still, she was indeed a bit jealous.
“The brewery keeps me pretty busy, though,” he added.
“Exactly. I’m busy with work, too,” she said. But was that just an excuse?
He changed the subject, thankfully. “What’s the status with Pearl?”
Sam shook her head. “She thinks the best option is a retirement home. I just can’t see her being happy in one of those. She’s so independent.”
“It’s weird to see them get older, huh?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. She couldn’t shake one particular image of Pearl struggling to get up the three small stairs to their front door, and how frail she’d seemed. She was a mountain of a woman in a failing body. “I can’t lose her,” Sam said softly.
“She’s still here,” Damon tried to reassure her. “But I know what you mean. My mom had a breast cancer scare earlier this year.”
“What? Oh, my God, Damon.” If this had been high school, she would’ve been the first person he’d told about it; now she was likely the last.
“It’s okay. She’s okay. They caught it at stage one. She had a mastectomy and they got it all. But when that happened... I don’t know. You never think about your parents’ mortality until you have to. It’s sort of impossible to wrap your head around. It scared me, though.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m glad she’s okay. I wish I’d known.”
Damon gave her an uneasy look. “I thought about telling you, but we hadn’t talked in years. Felt weird to reach out and tell you something like that after all this time.”
“Can we just say it?” Sam asked.
He gave her a look, like he didn’t know what she was talking about. So she filled in the blanks.
“I’m a shit friend,” she said.
He chuckled. “I didn’t say that.”
“I know, because you’re a good friend. But it’s true. I’m a shit friend. And I’m sorry for not being there. Really, I am.”
“Thanks.” He licked his lips. “I did reach out, but you—”
“Changed my number and didn’t tell you, yes, because—say it with me now—‘Sam is a shit friend.’”
He wasn’t going to say it, which just spoke to how much better of a person he was than her. But he gave a look like he wanted to move on. So she added, “You’ve been doing a lot for me the last few days. How about I try to make up for lost time by taking you out tomorrow?”
“I have work in the morning,” he hedged.
“After work. I’ll pick you up. It’ll be a big surprise. Come on, we’re old friends, right?” Why was she pushing this when he so clearly didn’t want to? Maybe because she was wildly guilty about ditching him so long ago. And even though she knew that one day of her planning activities wouldn’t fix things, the gesture could be a start.
“Okay, you can pick me up at the brewery when I finish up at two tomorrow.” He offered a small smile, and that made a weight lift from her. “You know what song just popped into my head?”
Sam squinted and pressed her fingers into her temples, as if trying to mind read. “‘MMMBop’?”
“Underrated anthem, but no. ‘Ocean Avenue’ by Yellowcard. Remember that summer we listened to it on a loop?”
“Yeah,” Sam said with a knowing look. Unlike most emo songs, “Ocean Avenue” wasn’t about a relationship. It was about a place, and a feeling and wanting to go back to a memory. “I told you the lyrics weren’t romantic, but you wrongly said they were.”
“Having nostalgia is romantic,” Damon insisted. “It’s the ability to never forget something you love.”
He looked at her, and while he was talking about the lyrics, she also sensed that he might be talking about something else. About them, maybe.
Damon started to sing the song under his breath, breaking her thoughts. Sam playfully hip-checked him, and he lost his balance, which made his octopus flail. It jerked toward Sam’s kite, and the lines tangled. The dragon dragged down the octopus and one of the long arms whipped Sam in the face. She shrieked as Damon tried to regain control, which is when a voice over the loudspeaker called out, “No drinking and flying!”
“That’s a rule I should’ve known.” Sam tipped her rosé can up and took a few long sips.
“You think he’s talking to us, or those five-year-olds?” Damon pointed his beer bottle to a pair of twin girls slurping juice boxes while flying a small puffer-fish kite.
“It’s anyone’s guess,” she said. “Just to be safe, we better head out.”
The sun began to set, and the temperature was starting to drop. She’d need to get dinner going for Pearl. Sam reeled the kite back in and glanced over at Damon. He stared back, looking like he wanted to say something. But then thought better of it, and reeled his goofy octopus in, too.
As they drove home, soft light from the boutiques and homes along the road gave the night sky a warm glow. Maybe it was the rosé, but Sam wasn’t nervous to be on the motorcycle this time. She wrapped herself tightly around Damon and let her head rest in between his shoulder blades. She was sleepy and happy nestled against him.
When Damon parked the bike, she unfurled herself, shook out her arms and handed over the helmet. She didn’t want the night to end, but it was late and she knew he probably had to get back home...or to Marissa.
Her disappointment showed, because Damon leaned back in the motorcycle seat and considered her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’ll sound weird because you live here.”
“I do.” He held her helmet in his lap and his fingers tap-tap-tapped the top of it.
“I was just thinking that I feel sort of rooted here, in this moment, and this place... And with you,” she said, surprising herself.
The words slipped out as easily as the wine had gone down, and now that she’d said them, she wasn’t sure how to take them back. So she decided to plow forward and hope for the best. “I’ve been going nonstop for the past few years, and I haven’t been forced to come back to Tybee until now. Because of my mom, I just have a lot of mixed feelings when it comes to being here. But when I’m with you, I don’t know... I feel a lot happier than I thought I would.”
Sam shifted on her feet, suddenly aware she had no security blanket to grab and she’d just revealed way too much truth. She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to associate Tybee with comfort. Hadn’t she worked hard enough to put it all behind her? But as she stood close to Damon, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that for the first time in a long time, she wanted to stay still.
Damon licked his bottom lip before he looked off toward the house.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked, mimicking his initial question.
Eventually, he looked back with an expression that was unmistakably torn. Like he was testing the words out in his head. “I feel good with you, too,” he eventually said. “But I’ll be honest, I’m sort of nervous about that. I know you’ll leave in a few weeks. And then what? You’ll probably just be gone again.”
Any response she had caught in her throat. She’d spent so much time running from her feelings, but now that she was forced to stare them in the face, she wasn’t sure what to do.
She quickly closed the gap between them and wrapped Damon in a hug. He didn’t pull away, but also didn’t initially hug her back, either. Eventually, he lightly wrapped her in his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” Sam said into his shoulder. “I’m sorry that I am the way I am.”
“I like you the way you are,” he replied. “I just wish you’d come back sooner.”
She didn’t have a response to that. In hindsight, she wished she’d come back to see Damon, too. What would the harm have been, really? And if her alternate life was right, then maybe part of her would’ve flourished in Tybee. But she’d been young and selfish and didn’t realize how addicting flying away from her problems could be, how freeing the sky was.
But by leaving, she hadn’t given him any closure, and his damage was all her fault. She couldn’t blame him for being disappointed with her. Sam’s eyes welled, but she’d already done enough and didn’t want to get his shirt wet. She took a deep breath in, then out, and pulled away, strategically wiping the tears with the back of her hand and averting her gaze. She turned and walked toward the house.
“Sam, wait,” he started to say.
“See you tomorrow.” She refused to look back, because she was scared that she’d come home too late to change their future together. Maybe what she’d seen in the alternate version of her life was exactly that: nostalgia for something she’d never get to have, and she’d never be able to forget, just like the “Ocean Avenue” song.
Damon didn’t say anything back, but his engine revved as he peeled out of the driveaway.
She silently vowed to make the most of her time with him the next day. Because while she may not get another chance to truly be his, she could at least try to salvage a friendship, if that was still an option.