The Waves

by Matayo, Amy

  And I get it, I do. Living life in the shadow of your younger brother can’t be easy, especially when it comes to women. But unlike the handful of times I did it on purpose as a kid, this time I’m not. I never should have moved here in the first place.

  He thinks I only kissed Dillon once. I’ll never tell him it happened a lot.

  The memory of every single kiss keeps me awake at night—the sound of the waves crashing against the shore as we sat side by side, the look in her eyes just before I leaned in, the way her body and mouth felt against mine. A perfect fit, like we were created to connect. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about her. They say trauma brings people together because no one else on earth can relate to your shared experience. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I am sure that I would trade everything about my current situation to have one more hour on that island with her. As it stands, I haven’t spoken to her in a week. She has my heart, but right now my brother has my loyalty. The problem is—in matters of science and emotion—the heart usually comes to outweigh everything. I’m on the edge of reaching out to her, if for no other reason than to get a good night’s sleep.

  For now though, my mind isn’t my greatest problem. It’s my phone. It keeps dancing across my bedside table, lighting up the ceiling in a perfectly round sphere despite the fact the I have it turned on silent and dimmed to practical darkness. Five o’clock in the morning, and this is the third time someone has called. My voicemail box is full, and I have over one hundred unanswered texts because some moron posted my phone number online.

  Reporters. They keep calling. Journalists are calling too. Even civilians hell-bent on giving their uninvited opinions are calling. Everyone wants an interview, or our side of the story. They want headlines and conflict, will we sue or won’t we? They want to air their disbelief—did we lie? Did we invent this story for money? Everyone is clamoring for breaking news, everyone needing to give their two-cents in the hopes we’ll give them three.

  Everyone is calling but Dillon, the only person I actually want to talk to.

  I flip my phone over and bury my face in the mattress. Less than two minutes later, my phone buzzes again. Anger surges through me, and I rip it off the table, then slam it to my ear. It isn’t the caller’s fault that I want to feel Dillon here with me or that I would give anything to hear her voice. But the caller is going to take the brunt of my bad mood.

  “For the love of God, I’m so sick of you people calling me.” I stab the phone with my words, not even trying to disguise my anger.

  “Nice to talk to you too.” Dillon’s soft words ring through my ears like a song. “I guess I can always call back later.”

  “No!” I say the word with a little too much force and sit straight up. She’s the only thing right in my world, and I don’t want her to slip through my fragile grasp. “How are you doing?” I pull the sheet around my bare chest and lean back on my pillow.

  “Not great. Reporters keep calling, and I can’t sleep at night. I bought a noise machine so I can hear the waves, but even that isn’t helping.”

  “I can’t sleep either. Have you talked to any of them?”

  “Not yet, but my lawyer thinks I should talk to one of the national news shows like Daybreak America. Maybe Today. I’m not sure though. I just want to put it behind me and move on. What about you?”

  I want to move on as well, but I don’t think it’s what she’s asking.

  “I haven’t talked to my lawyer yet. I guess I’ll ask him tomorrow. Anything to put this whole mess behind me. I need to get back to studying, not talking about our time on the island.”

  The silence folds like a chest after a punch. I meant to sound flippant and tired; I came across sounding like a cold-hearted halfwit.

  “I just meant that I—”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry to ask about it now. It’s probably the last thing you want to talk about, especially this early in the morning.”

  “I’m fine to talk if you—”

  “Get some sleep, Liam. And good luck on your studies.”

  The line goes dead before I can stop her. I toss my phone on the floor and scream a string of obscenities that only I can hear.

  “Any coffee left?” I ask.

  “Yep.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

  “So we’re sticking to the one-syllable-equals-conversation thing, are we?”

  I don’t resist the urge to hold my tongue. Wasn’t much of an urge anyway.

  “Yep.”

  I hold the coffee pot in my hand and consider flinging it at Chad’s head. The guy brings a whole new meaning to the word petty. Petty and shallow and ridiculous, just to name a few. I could probably come up with more if given a minute. It’s early and my mind still isn’t up to full speed.

  Turns out I can do petty too. I fill up my mug to nearly overflowing, making sure to upend the carafe so it completely empties. If Chad wanted more coffee, too bad. I have to lean over the counter and take my first sip without picking up the mug so coffee won’t spill everywhere. Fifteen and seventeen all over again, fighting in the kitchen because the girl Chad intended to ask to the homecoming dance asked me. Wasn’t my fault then, isn’t my fault now.

  Okay maybe it’s a little my fault now. Like, barely worth mentioning.

  “Glad I didn’t want anymore. Seems you took it all, although taking something that isn’t yours to take isn’t anything new for you.”

  See? Petty.

  “Would you knock it off? Dillon was hardly yours to take. I’m sure she would love to hear you talking about her like an object. It’s every girl’s dream to be compared to a bicycle or a skateboard. Maybe that’s been your problem with women all along.”

  “Shut up, Liam. And make more coffee.”

  “No.”

  “Then give me the carafe so I can make more.”

  “No.”

  “Now look who can’t say more than one syllable. Give me the carafe.” He reaches for it, but I hold it high in the air. I’m taller by six inches, something else he resents about our relationship. Watching him jump up and down could officially become my new favorite pastime.

  “No.”

  “Give it to me now.”

  I accidently smack the hot glass against my arm. It burns hot, but I’m too busy making a point to react.

  “I said no.”

  “You’re such a jerk.”

  “You’re such a girl.”

  A bedroom door crashes against the wall. “Would both of you please shut up? I’m trying to sleep in here, not get dragged into the middle of your stupid cat fight.”

  We both stop to look at Teddy. He’s standing in the doorway wearing boxers and an old Hard Rock t-shirt, hair sticking up all directions, and apparently home for a break in his tour. Neither Chad or I expected to see him today. He looks nothing like the heartthrob musician all of America thinks him to be.

  “When did you get here?”

  “At five a.m. I have a break for twenty-four hours, I’m tired, and I’m not in the mood for this. So, here’s the thing. You,” he points to me. “Put the coffee pot down, pour yourself a freaking cup, and then call Dillon back. I heard you talking to her when I got in. You were rude, and I didn’t like it. You might not want to talk about your time on the island, but she does. She needs to in order to move on. So call her so I don’t have to listen to any more of her tears. So I can move on. I wasn’t on that island, so why am I paying for it? And another thing, reporters want some answers, so give them some. And then you can get back to your studies, dumbass. And you.” He swivels a sharp gaze to Chad and jabs a finger at him. It’s like we’re four years old and caught stealing pennies from our mother’s purse.

  “What did I do?”

  Teddy glares at him. Chad never has had enough sense to keep his mouth shut. “You’re weak, a whiny little boy, and I’m sick of it. You’ve been pining away for Dillon for years now for no good reason. If she’d gone on a date with you, I might unde
rstand. But she hasn’t. Move on. Of course, she has feelings for Liam. She spent five days lost at sea with him, for God’s sake. Five days that you could have been with her, if you’d chosen her over the stupid dolphins. That’s your fault, not Liam’s. And by the way, he was stuck there too in case you’ve forgotten. Give him a freaking break and show a little appreciation that he’s alive. He could have been shark food, did you ever think of that?”

  I shudder. I’ve definitely thought of it. Over and over and over.

  Chad opens his mouth to say something, but Teddy stops him.

  “I’m not finished. You’re in the friend zone, dude. It happens to the best of us, even me. So deal with it. Your brother’s got a chance to be happy, and you’ve got a chance to move on and get out of the friend zone with someone else. Now you can either take that chance, or you can stay miserable. Either way, you can’t force Dillon to like you. Now let Liam drink his coffee in peace.” He looks between us, a fatherly scowl on his heartthrob face. If the country’s teenage girls could see him now, they would all be scared. “I’m going back to bed. If I have to come out here again, I’ll kick you both out.” He spins around and walks away. Just before he slams the bedroom door he shouts, “and that coffee pot is mine! I say who can drink it!”

  Chad and I stare after him, and then lock eyes with each other. For one second it’s tense and uncomfortable.

  Then we bust out laughing, and all the tension fades away.

  CHAPTER 23

  Dillon

  I make a mark in the notebook in front of me and try with all my might not to sigh. Or roll my eyes. Or do a fun combination of both, which would be ultra-satisfying and entirely unprofessional considering the woman in front of me has been crying for a solid two minutes now. This time last month, I might have teared up with her. Today I want to tell her to cut the whining and shut the heck up.

  It was a hamster, for heaven’s sake.

  “I know, Mrs. Hart, but surely he’ll turn up eventually.”

  She balls the tissue in her hand and jerks her head up to look at me. “He won’t if Cottontail ate him! Poor Louie, eaten by a cat. What an awful way to leave this world.”

  Not nearly as awful as naming a cat Cottontail. I clench my jaw and focus on Mrs. Hart.

  Mascara runs like charcoal stripes down both of her cheeks, making her a human zebra. I swing my leg back and forth, commanding it not to do something irrational like kick her, but this is ridiculous. She’s crying harder about this dumb rat than she ever cried about her marriage falling apart. It’s been two years since that happened, and I’ve spent every single one of our sessions wondering how any man would leave such a kind, beautiful woman. Now I’m beginning to get it. She’s nice looking, sure—nearly fifty but looks more than a decade younger with her long blonde hair and body that most women my age would kill for—but her priorities are way off. You shouldn’t cry more for a rodent than a human, even if her husband was a snake.

  “If it makes you feel better, he probably died instantly. It was most likely a painless death.”

  It’s the wrong thing to say. She glares at me. “Would it be painless if someone ate you?”

  I suck on my jaw to keep myself from responding to that ridiculous question. Did I mention I was left out at sea for five days and have only been back to work for two? Try doing that, lady, and then come crying to me about your dead mouse.

  “I suppose it wouldn’t be. Though in that case, it would be criminal…” Even I can hear the sarcasm in my words, but seriously. They should totally give out awards for not telling clients they’re crazy. But I don’t, because the hamster is only a distraction from her real problem. Her ex-husband is getting remarried. He sent her an invitation in the mail, a move that has tacky mid-life-crisis written all over it, especially considering his new bride isn’t yet thirty.

  Mrs. Hart says something about Louie the hamster again. It seems we’re both masking our real issues with less painful ones. My current mood is worse than it ever was on the island.

  I haven’t heard from Liam all day, not since I called him in the middle of the night and he practically hung up on me. When I casually asked Teddy about it earlier, he not-so-casually told me to back off and give the guy some space. And then he told me I’d woken him up and would everyone just drink the coffee and let him sleep? That last part made no sense, but instead of asking what he meant I quietly hung up and gnawed off the remnants of an old manicure. Then I came to work.

  The mistakes are stacking on top of each other today.

  Our appointment is still two minutes from wrapping up, but I close my folder and begin formal goodbyes.

  “It looks like we don’t have another appointment for another three weeks. Is there anything else you want to go over before time’s up? Maybe something that doesn’t involve your pet hamster?” I try to put a little feeling into that last question. She’s my last appointment today, and I should end it on a good note.

  She shakes her head. “Can you just pray that I find him?”

  I hesitate, and then nod. “I will pray that you find him and that he did not get eaten by your cat or anyone else’s.” There’s a sentence I never imagined saying. I stand up and lead her to the door. “You have a good week, Mrs. Hart. And please don’t hesitate to call me if you need help.” When she turns to go, I close the door behind her and slump to the floor, staying there until someone knocks a few minutes later. Exhausted, I come up on my knees and pull it open.

  “Yes?”

  Kathy, the receptionist, shoves a stack of papers through the door and places them in my hand. After the vomit incident from a few weeks ago and the stranded-on-a-deserted-island incident from last week, the fact that I’m on my knees in a pencil skirt and looking up at her through a crack in the door doesn’t seem to faze her. I flip through the papers and blink.

  “What are these?”

  She pops her head through. “They’re all messages from reporters, and these are from just the past hour. There are more on the machine that I haven’t listened to yet. Are you sure you don’t want to call one of them? Maybe one of the national ones? Maybe if you start talking, they’ll finally leave you alone.”

  I sigh and slump against the adjacent wall, giving her room to come all the way into my office.

  “They just want to know if I’m going to sue, and I’m not. They just want another angle, and I don’t have one to give them.” I sigh and begin reciting talking points on autopilot. “I left the cruise ship against regulations and went on an excursion. I went snorkeling with some crook and got left in the middle of the ocean. I swam to a deserted island and waited to be rescued. I spent five days gathering bananas and coconuts with a guy I barely knew and somehow fell in love with him. I don’t see how—”

  It’s like my words just caught up to me, and I stop talking. When I slide my gaze upward, Kathy is looking at me wide-eyed and stunned, but she also wants to smile. She presses her lips together, making quite the effort to keep one off her mouth.

  “You fell in love with him?”

  I resent that she decided to focus on that part. I tip my neck back and rest my head on the wall.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Did I? Of course not. Who falls that quickly? Only a weak, careless idiot. But I already know the truth. “Yes. But what good does that do me? I haven’t talked to him all week.”

  She lowers herself to the sofa across from me and leans forward. “I hate to point out the obvious, but you could set up an interview with the press. Then he would be forced to show up.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve chased men before, but never the right ones. In the end, they all either left or I pushed them away. A man who loved me couldn’t be pushed away, and he certainly wouldn’t leave. I’ve been abandoned enough for one lifetime. I promised myself I would never put myself in that situation again.”

  Kathy just looks at me, a knowing expression filling her face like a woman who’s just been enlightened.

  “Are you sure this is a
bout Liam? Because I think maybe it’s about something else.”

  Kathy lost both her parents two years ago in a tragic accident. She’s only just now regaining some semblance of her old self.

  I blink at her, and just like that…I see it. Reality washes over me in waves.

  I’ve been abandoned. That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Abandonment. Fear of being left again. It’s the reason for all my awful dating choices, the reason I never allow myself to fall. I’ve been abandoned before. Unlike Kathy, I never had an old me. I was born into this world with loss on my back, and I’ve spent the last twenty-eight years trying desperately to shrug it off without any success.

  My older brother left me to deal with the fallout and the guilt that came after. At least that’s how it felt to my little-girl mind. My adult mind just wishes he’d lived longer.

  That’s why I never let anyone else get close enough to leave. Except for one man. I let him in, and look where it got me?

  “Kathy…” My voice breaks on the word, emotion clogging my throat.

  “Look, I know what it’s like to lose people. It sucks. It changes you in ways you never saw coming and certainly don’t appreciate. People aren’t supposed to love you and then leave. It’s cruel really, whether they meant to do it or not. Sometimes you can’t control what happens, but sometimes you can. I think Liam is different. He chose you when he jumped inside the boat. I don’t think he’s going anywhere.” Silence stretches for a long moment until she stands and walks toward the door. “Just something to think about,” she says before patting the door frame and leaving.

  I know she’s right. He did choose me. There’s no telling where I might be now if he hadn’t. So, what am I going to choose? I’ve spent nearly three decades letting life happen to me. Maybe it’s time I mixed it up a little.

  I stand up, feeling a bit like a warrior after battle. Things change the moment we set our minds on a certain direction. Determination kicks in. A fierceness we didn’t know we possessed bathes us with strength. Fire ignites in our bellies, daring anyone and anything to burn us down. I am woman, hear me roar. End of story. That’s that.