by S. C. York
“Me? Crazy? Ha, good one. You’re the pyscho with two different personalities!”
He clenches his jaw so tight, I think it might snap. The whites of his eyes are stark and cold. Very quietly, but forcefully he bites out, “Don’t ever call me crazy again, I mean it.”
Digesting his words, I drop his hand. This man’s unstable. I want no part of it. I walk down Blake’s driveway alone, leaving him standing in the road. I just want to get home, bury myself under my quilt and cuddle with Felix. I feel completely alone. None of my friends seem to have these problems. A tear forms behind my eyes, and I let it roll. I haven’t cried this much since my cat died last year. At least I have Eva and TJ. I don’t know what I would do without them, my two rocks.
Blake’s party has dwindled. I don’t see Eva anywhere, but it’s impossible to miss Blake and Blaire on the dock. Turning away from them sucking face, I notice Ryan’s staring at them, too. Sliding out my phone, I text Eva.
Where are you?
Majesty Topdeck, she writes back.
Can we go? I’m done.... I type back.
She responds, Why?
EVA!!!!
Okay coming.
I find a quiet spot in the garden, sitting down on a stone bench next to a fountain, I listen to the trickle of water cascading over the rocks and wait for Eva to take me home.
“Nessa, it’s not even midnight yet. Why are we leaving?” She sits down next to me.
“I’ve had enough. It’s been quite the night; I can’t handle anymore. I reached my limit of bullshit twenty minutes ago. Tell me, what’s more screwed up? Making out with Ryan or Sean busting us?”
“What?”
“I was at the Point with Ryan. The stars were low over the water; the waves were hypnotic. He was kissing me senseless. I saw a bright light, I thought, holy shit, this is so good, I’m seeing stars. But no, it was the spotlight from Sean’s cruiser.
“What the hell is he doing over here?! Mystic Police doesn’t have jurisdiction in the Borough!”
“I know.”
Eva smacks herself in the head, “Shit, it was me.”
“What?”
“He probably checked Facebook while on patrol. I snapped a pic of you passed out on the boat and posted it #Her Majesty; party in the borough,” she air quotes with her fingers.
“Sorry, I must still be friends with him online. What a total stalker, Nessa.”
“Yeah, just my luck, being stalked by an oversexed and crazy ex, who happens to be a cop. And please don’t take random pics of me like that!”
“Yeah sorry. Anyway, we definitely need to avoid him for the rest of the summer. Come on. I need to tell Blake we’re leaving.”
Crossing the yard to the dock I shake my head that he and Blaire are still going at it. He finally notices his audience and pushes her away.
“What? Dude, not the first time we’ve shared.” Ryan glances at me quickly and mouths ‘shut up’ at Blake.
“What? I think it’s cute. Blake and Blaire, we could call you B & B! Just think of all the Twitter followers you’ll have. It’s a perfect hashtag,” I say.
“Immature bitch,” Blaire blasts back.
“Well, I guess at the end of the day even couture country club girls can be cheap!” With my parting shot, I walk out.
“We’re done here. See you at work, Blake.” Eva calls out. This time she’s the one following me, and I lead her out the corner gate. Moving toward her Jeep, she kicks the crushed stones that make up the long drive.
“Why are you upset? Are you mad because you work for his dad, and I insulted her?”
“No. Forget it, I’m fine.”
“Eva…come on. You never tell me anything. What’s going on with you?”
“I just think Blake could do better than her.”
“Okay, but you know his rep, right? Blake’s a notorious playboy. I’m sure tomorrow it’ll be another girl.”
She doesn’t answer.
“You okay to drive? Because I barely drank.”
“I’m good,” she answers climbing into her Jeep.
She drives me home through the dark streets and I stare out my window, lost in thought. I’m home before I know it and I lean over, giving her a quick hug.
“I love you—even though you dragged me to that debacle.”
“Love you, too, girlie.”
Unlocking the door to a quiet house, I breathe a sigh of relief. Mom’s asleep and finally there’s peace for me tonight. I get changed and brush my teeth. Getting into bed, I grab Felix and stare at the plastic stars, until sleep finally comes.
The check-out process on Sunday mornings is always madness. Most of the guests are rushing to get back to the city. They’re rude, cranky and probably hungover. I swipe their credit cards asking how their stay was when all I want to do is grab an iced coffee and hit the beach with my new book.
Anna’s new this year, and it’s slow going trying to train her while handling the guests. By mid-morning, I already feel as if I have worked a full day.
“Anna, do you mind heading over to the Green Marble Café and grabbing some lattes?”
“You want me to fetch you a latte?” She drops her pen and rolls her eyes.
“Us, it’s my treat, Anna.”
“Whatever,” she takes my ten, seeming put off by my request. I’m puzzled by the attitude but let it slide. We’re the same age, and it’s awkward trying to act like her boss, even though technically, I am.
Waiting for her to come back, I tally the morning’s receipts; straighten up the lobby all while answering the reservation lines.
The door chime rings, and I breeze out of the office expecting a guest. But it’s Tony from Mystic Florist. He usually brings the lobby centerpieces every Friday.
“Tony, we’re all set. Did the new girl place a random order?”
Chuckling, he replies, “Actually, doll, these are for you!”
I stare at the beautiful pink roses in horror; their fragrance already fills the small space, and I recoil, finding the sweet smell noxious. This gesture is Sean’s classic move.
Grabbing the card, expecting to see Sean’s chicken scratch, I’m shocked.
Thinking of you, sweets, XOXOXO Ryan
My nose touches a soft petal when I move the vase to the corner of the front desk. Seeing these flowers will cheer me up if any PITAs arrive later. The fragrant petals suddenly smell sweet again. I hold the card to my chest and remember how it felt when Ryan kissed me in the moonlight by the sea.
Anna walks in, notices the roses and raises her eyebrows. Meeting her gaze, I take my latte. “What gives, Anna?”
“Are those from Ryan?”
“What? How did you guess?”
“I heard you were out with him this weekend. Did you know he was engaged to my sister?”
I choke on my coffee at her words.
Anna’s smug. Her lips are curving; she presses the straw to her mouth while looking at me out of the corner of her eye. No doubt eager to share her sister’s story and vanquish any potential romance between me and her almost-brother-in-law.
Official check-in isn’t until 2:00, so we have time to chat. I pat the office chair next to me. “Anna, we have to work together this summer. I’d like to try and attempt to be friends. I just met the guy four days ago. He seems like a total head case.”
“If I were you, I’d dump those roses in the dumpster out back and block his number.”
“Seriously, he’s that bad?”
“Yep.” She takes a long sip, flipping her mahogany hair back, “Do you want to hear the story?”
“Why not,” I say, taking a long pull of my drink, pretending not to care, while inside I’m dying to know every detail.
I need to get out of here. The fluorescent lights in the back office are overbright. They burn my retinas, compounding the headache building behind my skull. Each thought pounds with all the information Anna has given me. I’m incapable of working the front desk, too caught up in the story of
Ryan and Emily’s crashed and burned romance. All I can think about is the mess my life has become since the minute I met Ryan on the beach and I can’t pretend to be okay anymore.
I never did send Ryan a text to thank him for the roses. I completely forgot. Now, I’m not sure I should even bother. Picking up my laptop, I walk out and cross the parking lot to the adjoining building. Keying into an empty room, I’m trying to keep busy creating new marketing materials. It feels good being creative and using my degree for real work. The lighting is softer in this space and without the constant ringing of the reservation lines, my headache lessens.
Taking a quick break, I close my laptop and stand. Stretching feels good, maybe some fresh air will perk me up. I open the front door of Carriage House stepping out onto the porch. Before the expansion, this old Victorian was the original Inn many years ago. Now it’s been turned into office space and swanky guest rooms. Leaning against a pillar, looking out onto Main Street, I stare into space, lost in my thoughts. I wonder what my new job will be like in the fall. I’m going to miss this old New England town, but I need to accept that my life’s moving forward and start looking for apartments in Fairfield County.
It’s one of the most expensive places in Connecticut to live, being on the train line into Manhattan. My thoughts wander back to Ryan. I decide not to bother with him anymore. What’s the point?
My shift’s about over, so I walk inside to pack up my laptop and go back to the main building, punching out at 5:00 on the dot. I’m too keyed up to go home, suddenly filled with nervous energy after thinking about the changes on my horizon. I grab my gym bag out of the trunk and change into my running clothes. Driving out to Bluff Point Preserve and going for a long run will help me feel better.
The woodsy trail snakes along the Long Island Sound. It’s rough with mud and rocks, but the view’s unbeatable. There are schooners racing out on the bay, practicing for the Groton Long Point’s annual regatta. My legs pump harder; I have Elle King’s, Ex’s and OH’s blasting through my headphones. As I finish the third mile, my phone alerts me to a call. It’s him.
Putting Ryan to voicemail, my feet deftly move over the rough path. The trail evens out the closer I get to the dirt parking lot where my MINI sits. I’m coated in sweat but feel satisfied. Unlocking my car and using a towel to wipe myself down, I listen to his message.
His deep voice comes through, “Vanessa, it’s me, Ryan. I’m thinking about you. Thinking I need to get back down to Connecticut next weekend. You have a bad habit of walking out on me that I’m going to break.”
Slumping against my car, I deliberate. He’s so bad for me, but makes me feel so alive.
My hand hovers over the callback icon, my finger itching to tap it. But deep down, I want to change. Be smarter, my eyes are wide open seeing him for who he is. And it’s not matching up with who I want him to be.
For once I use common sense and not wishful thinking. I put my phone away and start the engine. Sean did a number on me with his womanizing. And I saw firsthand how erratic Ryan was in the three short days he was in my life.
Then there’s the fact that he point blank admitted he’s the same as Sean but just doesn’t bother hiding it. Do I want to spend my last summer at home dealing with this crap?
Um, no!
I wish I could just have a summer fling but I can’t. Eva’s the one who seems never to get hurt in relationships. I don’t know how she always seems to come out on top, but she does. Maybe TJ will have some answers.
“Nessa, what’s up?”
“Hey, can you meet up for drinks, maybe some dinner later? You missed a hell of a weekend.”
“Sure. I just need to finish up at the Yacht Club. Margarita’s at eight work for you?”
“No, too many memories from last summer. That’s where Sean took me on our first date.”
“Got it, okay, how about Sushi? I could meet you in The Village at Pink Basil?”
“Yes. I can’t wait to fill you in on what went down last night after the whole Facebook thing, it was crazy.”
“Alright, see you in a few hours, Nessa.”
TJ always gives me a guy’s perspective on my love life and sometimes having that reality check is exactly what I need. Feeling better, I head home. God, I need to get through Mom first. She’s going to be angry that I’m going out again, four nights in a row. Especially on a Sunday night. But, hey, I can go out every night. My diploma’s in a glass frame and I’ve earned this last summer of fun.
“What a shit show, Nessa.”
“I know, TJ, I know.” I just filled him in on Saturday night’s events and about the unexpected bombshell about Ryan being engaged to my co-worker’s sister. Picking up my chopsticks, I start eating my third spicy shrimp roll, figuring my run burned more than enough calories.
“TJ, I just filled you in on everything; spill,” I say pointing my chopstick at him.
He shakes his head standing firm and sips his drink.
“I’m keeping this one under wraps until I see how things play out.”
“I can never get anything out of you, or Eva. It’s so frustrating. I feel like I haven’t been a good friend to you. I’m always talking about my life. What are your plans, any job leads?”
TJ sits back and rakes his hands through his hair in frustration, “Vanessa, I don’t know what to do. I feel lost, like I’m just floating aimlessly in the water. I thought getting my degree in Marine Sciences would make sense. We live on the coast, and I love being outside. I can’t ever imagine being stuck at a desk all day. But there are no jobs. Every place I’ve applied to says they are experiencing budget cuts or not receiving enough grant money for another research project.”
“That sucks, TJ, but don’t give up. You’re the smartest out of all of us.”
“Thanks. At least I have my job at MYC and I can stay on my parents’ health insurance for a few more years. Working summers here is hardly the worst thing that can happen.”
“True, but what are you going to do in the fall, when the yacht club closes for the winter?”
“I know. Getting all the boats up in dry dock and winterizing everything will take a few months, buying me some time. But you’re right, Nessa, I need to figure it out.”
I take my hand and place it over his, giving him a small squeeze, “I’m here for you, whatever you need. You can always move in with me and get a job in Stamford if it comes to it.”
“Thanks, Nessa, but I need to do this on my own, be a man and chart my own course.”
“I understand.” I can tell the conversation is making him anxious, so I decide to switch gears.
“Back to my love life, what do you think I should do?”
“Nothing, just leave it alone. Ness, you’re beautiful, I mean it. Don’t sell yourself short. The summer’s just started. We haven’t even gone to Block or Newport yet. You have the whole summer to meet a better guy. Or better yet, just focus on moving your life forward and concentrate on finding an affordable apartment.”
“You’re right. I wish I could get him out of my head, but it’s hard. When he kisses me, I forget everything. It’s crazy.” I shake my head at my stupidity, because I just can’t let it go. The push and pull, back and forth with him, is crazily intoxicating.
“Yes, speaking of crazy, Nessa, there’s the fact he could be a potential psycho.”
“Maybe, but if you ever run into him at the yacht club, be cool, okay?”
“Sure, I mean he hasn’t technically done anything to my best friend so I can be cool.”
“Good,” my phone buzzes on the table.
Vanessa, I hope you’re not out drinking again!
“Oops,” I show TJ the text, he sits back and shakes his head.
“Your mom’s too much. Seriously Nessa, have you thought about counseling?”
“She’s not that bad, she means well…her delivery just sucks.”
“You think?”
He signals the waiter for the bill.
“Don’t
do that.”
“Do what?”
“Signal with your hand in the air, it’s so pretentious. We need to get you away from the Yacht Club because those phonies are rubbing off on you.”
“No arguments here, I think we should go to Block for the Fourth.”
“You read my mind, TJ. I’m doing the work schedule tomorrow for July. I’ll give myself three days off. I guess being the Assistant Manager has some perks. I’ll text Eva and let her know. Are you going to be able to get it off? I mean, whose going to pump out the toilet heads at the dock?” I ask him teasingly.
“Come on, you know I don’t do that anymore, I’m the dock master now.”
“So, Dock master— does Blake ever bring the Majesty here?”
“No. Why would he when The Fosters’ house has a deep-water dock, remember? You were just there. Most of the yachts that tie up at the MYC are just in for a quick break between New York and Newport. We pump out their toilets and refuel them.”
“Thanks for clarifying that,” I say drily losing the rest of my appetite. So what about the infamous parties I always hear about around town? Where do these happen? His party on Saturday seemed tame.”
“Oh those might be getting eighty-sixed.”
“How come?”
“Blake’s a predator. He finds girls, doesn’t matter who they are: nannies, teachers, or waitresses. If they are legal—he has no problem inviting them aboard for a night of debauchery. Word around the MYC is his father’s starting to get pissed. He thinks Blake’s partying is starting to taint the company’s all-American image. Mr. Foster has been bankrolling Blake’s lifestyle, and he hasn’t stepped down as CEO of Foster Sailing yet, saying Blake’s not ready for the role.
“Huh, Eva said most of their orders are from overseas.”
He signals the waiter again, “We’re going to need one more round.”
“Just a refill of my water, please. Sorry, we’re going to be here just a bit longer.” I tell the waiter with a soft smile.
“Why did you apologize?”
“You used the hand signal again, and I felt bad.”
“Whatever. Anyway, last year during the offseason the Fosters took Her Majesty down to St. Kitts for a major yachting convention. Their company was launching their new sail line. All the big names in yachting were there, America’s Cup boat owners, sponsors and the like. Blake was in his element schmoozing, hosting, ass kissing, you get the picture?”