Trey
Night had fallen by the time Trey turned onto Main Street. Since they left the Mullens’, Autumn had been humming to the radio while braiding her damp hair with deft fingers. Once, she remarked how relaxed she felt and that she really should make an effort to swim for exercise. “But where?” she asked.
“I’m sure Kara would invite you to use her pool any time you wanted,” he said.
She didn’t respond but appeared to be contemplating this suggestion as they entered the city limits. They drove past the Cliffside Bay Resort, a massive sprawl of pillars and balconies, all lit up like a Christmas tree. The grocery store was still open, even though the flowers had all been taken in for the evening. By dawn, Clayton, the flower guy, would have arranged his day’s finds in front of the glass doors. Without the colorful, fragrant flowers, the storefront seemed lonely, even bereft.
Like him without Autumn.
Internally, he chastised himself for being overdramatic even though it was true.
The Oar pulsed with life. The outside seating was overrun with sunburned tourists and somewhat annoyed, tanned locals. The residents hated the additional patrons but had accepted it as part of the town’s ebb and flow, just as they did the fluctuating tides of the sea that continually morphed their strand of beach. He knew without having to see that the back patio, strung with white lights, would be filled with people enjoying adult beverages in the warm night air.
Through the windows, he caught a glimpse of a local band performing. On the dance floor, couples swayed to the music. He envied them. Perhaps a few of the couples would wake tomorrow in the bed of someone they barely knew. After his divorce, he’d had a few of those nights. That was before Autumn, during his ridiculous vow to remain forever single. How had he ever thought it smarter to engage in meaningless physical encounters than make a life with a good woman? He’d been bitter and closed up like the crabs on the beach until Autumn’s sweetness had drawn him out of his shell. Now he was as exposed as a crab without a shell, all squishy and vulnerable.
As they passed by the bookstore, Lance Mullen was in the process of locking the front door. His wife, Mary, leaned over a two-seater stroller holding their toddler and infant daughters and rearranged a blanket. Their dog, Freckles, waited patiently on his haunches for his family to be ready.
Trey sensed Autumn looking at the Mullen family and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. The look of longing on her face pained him. She yearned for the dog and stroller and adoring husband. He wanted to give them to her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Oh, sure. Just fighting off the green monster.” Tendrils of hair, unwilling to be tamed by the braid, curled against her neck. Without makeup, she looked young and even more innocent. He loved how he could see more of her freckles without her careful makeup coverage.
He didn’t say anything as he turned the car down the side street that led to her house. Cottages built in the 1940s as vacation bungalows and as similar as sisters with their gray shingles and white trim hugged the shoreline. He pulled into Autumn’s skinny driveway and parked next to her car. When he turned off the engine, intending to walk her to her door, she put her hand on his forearm. “Trey, wait. I need to say something to you. What you did tonight was so… I don’t have the words to tell you what it meant to me. Thank you for pushing me.”
His throat tightened and he was unable to do anything but nod.
She reached over and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek similar to the one earlier. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“I can walk you to your door.”
She flashed him an indulgent smile. “It’s five feet away. Just watch me from here.”
He nodded in agreement and watched as she unbuckled her seat belt and slipped out of his car. She tottered up her front walkway in her flat sandals. The swim had tired her. When she reached her front door, she opened it and then turned back to give him a quick wave, then disappeared inside her house.
He drove home with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. As much progress as he’d made today, he worried about the fake Art and Paris and what would happen if she found out the truth.
Later, after a shower, he pulled on shorts and an old T-shirt, then made himself a sandwich and grabbed a beer. Neither Stone nor Pepper was home, and the empty, quiet apartment represented everything wrong about his life. Without them, the space looked and felt like the lonely pages of a magazine spread. Soon, after Pepper and Stone moved to their new house, it would be like this all the time.
In his room, he sprawled lengthwise over his bed with the plate on his lap. He watched the second half of a soccer match on television without much enthusiasm, caring little about the outcome since his LA team wasn’t playing. He finished his food and decided to check his email. Constantly checking was a bad habit but he didn’t care. If there was a message from Autumn, he wanted to read it now, not later.
Setting aside his plate, he swung his legs from the bed and strode over to his desk. Instead of sitting, he took the laptop back to his bed and resumed his position before opening his email. His heart leapt at the sight of her name in his messages.
Dear Art,
You won’t believe what happened today. I went swimming with Trey. He talked me into joining him at our friend’s pool after promising he wouldn’t look at my legs. The strangest thing happened, though. Once I was in that water, it was like the old Autumn returned. I felt young, like I did before the accident. My legs were without the usual heaviness. Swimming felt effortless, and the water was like a balm to my achy legs.
Perhaps that explains what happened next. It was like a dream then and thinking back on it now, the experience seems even more dreamlike. This will shock you. It does me, and I’m the one who did it. Trey convinced me to show him my legs. Yes, you read that right. No one, other than my brothers and Sara, has ever seen me without covering until tonight. I don’t know what got into me, but before I knew what I was doing, I strolled out of the pool and into his outstretched hands.
He looked, Art. Really looked. He didn’t flinch or grimace or look away. Then he traced my scars with his fingers and told me I should wear them proudly, as they are proof of my survival. I’d never thought of it that way. I’m not convinced to run naked down the street or anything, but his reaction gave me a little more self-confidence.
I couldn’t express properly what his gift meant to me. Honestly, I don’t know how or why he even thought of encouraging me to swim. I’ve never mentioned it to him. Lately, it’s like he reads my mind. Regardless, he’s the most thoughtful person in my life. I’m racking my brain to try to think of a way to repay him.
Maybe by the next time I write, I’ll have gone to the beach.
How are you? Have you talked with your friend about your feelings?
Best,
007
His smiled as he read her message, though sobered at the “reads my mind” section. If she only knew that his deception was his crystal ball. He needed to put an end to Art. Soon. He would do it soon. Not tonight. First, he would write to her. He glanced at the clock, doing the math in his head. It was the early hours of the morning in Paris. If he sent one back now it might seem strange to her. He decided to write it now but set it up to send later. This fake life was complicated. Lies always were.
Dear 007,
Swimming! I’m proud of you for being brave. What’s that saying? If it doesn’t scare you, it isn’t worth doing. Something like that, anyway. Regardless, good for you.
You may have given Trey hints about swimming that you were unaware of at the time. Men are mostly clueless, but every once in a while, we pick up on women’s clues. I’m glad he reacted the way he did. I think most people will if you give them a chance. Maybe this is just what you need to tackle that beach. I hope it is.
I wish I could say things were as good on my end as your news. I’ve been in a bit of a funk, feeling sorry for myself. I’m still stuck in the same place with the girl of my heart. Tonight, we went…
He lifted his fingers from the keyboard. What could he say that was a little like the intimate moments they’d spent swimming that wasn’t exactly that? She’d had him over for dinner and they’d had a good talk, even though he still couldn’t bring himself to confess his feelings? Yes, that would do.
He continued.
Tonight, Michelle invited me to her apartment for dinner and she talked to me in a way she doesn’t usually. She spoke of her background in more detail and in general seemed more vulnerable. I wish I had the courage to say something or do something, but the fear of rejection and of ruining our friendship is strong. I know you understand.
Anyway, I should go now. I have things to do for work. Have a good day tomorrow.
Talk soon.
Art
He hit the send button and powered off his computer. Turning up the volume on the television, he forced himself to focus on the game. Distraction. That’s all he needed. Yeah, right. It would take more than a soccer game to rid his mind of the images of Autumn Hickman in a bathing suit.