by Tracy Ewens
She was still breathing heavily, and Matt tried to control his thoughts. Wasn’t it bad enough she was back? Did he need to also endure the tiny shorts and the sweaty, heaving chest?
“He only has three legs, maybe that’s what’s throwing you,” Matt joked, hoping he would piss her off and she would leave to get some damn clothes on.
Hollis rolled her eyes. “Thank you, I can count his legs. No, I’m simply saying I pictured beagles bigger, in my mind.”
“I find things are often bigger in my mind.” Don’t go there, man.
Hollis glared at him with a resolve Matt recognized as “whatever, asshole.” Clearly they were back where they belonged. Maybe she had still been drinking too much last night and didn’t even remember him spilling his heart all over their pier. Hope sprang eternal. From the looks of her, Hollis had put the booze down now and was probably as sharp as ever.
“I think he is a mix of beagle and some other little dog. I rescued him about a year ago. Toro adopted him.”
“From here? How did he end up needing rescuing here?” Hollis crouched to pet Scooter.
“No, the city.”
“Were you visiting your parents?”
“No, Twenty Questions. I was at home on a Saturday and Scooter was outside the shelter with a couple of other dogs. It was like an adoption fair thing. Toro wanted a dog. I called him and now Scooter here is one hell of a kayaker.”
“Home. You don’t live in the city.” Hollis stood, looking confused.
She still had the same ability to order everyone’s life for them based again on what she thought it should be in her mind.
“But I do.” He grinned.
“I thought you said you lived here.”
“I have been for a while. It’s a long story, but I live in the city and commute when I have to.”
“Where in the city?”
“What’s with all the questions? Let me try. Where do you live in the city?”
“Financial district. Bush Street. It’s less than a five-minute walk to work.”
“Figures.” Matt ran his hand through the loop in Scooter’s leash and stuffed his towel in his bag.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m sure you know what that means. I’ve never understood that phrase. When people say, ‘What does that mean?’ they usually know exactly what the other person means. It’s like a trap phrase, sort of like, ‘excuse me?’ but less abrasive.”
“Okay, Mr. Philosophical. Are you still reading André Gide?” she asked as they walked along the shore and Matt lost his place in the banter.
He hadn’t read Gide since he packed up his stuff and left Stanford for good. He hadn’t read much of anything lately. It was as if somehow, the guy he was back then needed an ingredient that was no longer available. As uncomfortable as it would have been to admit it then, and as much as he tried to fight it, Hollis added something to his life, to him, that made him more interesting. She questioned and pushed. He loved pushing back. The challenge was so heady that once she was gone, things felt dim like the blinds had been drawn. Light had still snuck into his life over the past twelve years, but it was a dash here or a streak there. With Hollis, the windows were thrown open and there was no need for curtains ever again. Their life, the way they had loved each other, was as natural as a breeze or a rainstorm. By the time they hit their twenties, it was as if they’d loved each other all their lives. They practically had and that would explain why as hard as Matt had tried, he could never get back to reading Gide, never find that interesting guy that Hollis Jeffries was stupid in love with.
Somehow, in between all of their pushing and pulling, he must have become an obstacle, something she needed to discard so she could focus on shoving the pain or what happened way down. Matt never had any delusions about Hollis; she wasn’t sappy or clingy. He loved that about her, but those very things that made her so singular were what had kicked him to the curb in the end. Hollis Jeffries used to leave him little notes around their apartment. He made her breakfast on Sundays and when she was anxious about a paper or presentation, she would bake. They made jokes about their teachers, liked completely different movies, and made love even after being up all night in the library. They couldn’t get enough of one another back then, but the minute their life became messy and she couldn’t see a clear path, she left and never looked back.
As the memories became too painful, Matt pulled himself back to the present in time for Hollis to prop her leg up on a nearby bench and bend to stretch. What the hell? Was this some kind of penance for… my divorce? Or not fluffing Dad’s pillows when they came home? What?
“God, it felt great to run. I think I’ve eaten my weight in junk food and chowder and bread. There’s so much bread here.” Hollis looked lighter, less burdened. Matt supposed it was the endorphins from her run. He hoped they wore off soon so she could get back to bitchy-grumpy, because he wanted to pull smiling-in-the-sunlight Hollis into his arms and make up for all twelve years by the time the sun set. That was a very bad idea, but thankfully, his self-preservation instinct kicked in and helped Hollis find her way back to pissed.
“And alcohol,” he said, with a smile that was preprogrammed a long time ago to slide right under her skin.
Hollis stopped mid-arm stretch and her brow wrinkled. “Yes. I’ve been doing some of that too. Are you a monk now, Matt? Did your ex take your man parts with her?”
He laughed and continued as Hollis left him standing on the sidewalk, her perfect ass all but flipping him off. The confidence, or the “brass” as his father would say, was intoxicating. Especially when he alone knew the insecurity that simmered right below the surface. She was funny but could turn like a lemon after a cool glass of iced tea. Matt was still smiling when he put his seatbelt on. He’d started the day feeling lousy and pent up, but after a few minutes of sparring with Hollis, he was ready to go.
Maybe she had been right all those years ago when she said they were split-aparts. Matt sure hoped not because she left him once and no matter how many summer days stretched out before them this time, she would leave again. It was simply a matter of time.
Chapter Ten
Hollis helped Candy clean Miss Kitty and Big Earl because they were expecting a ten o’clock check-in on those two cabins. As she walked into the bar to see if there were any more of those small plastic bags for the bathroom trash cans, she noticed Uncle Mitch and Matt sitting at a table near the patio. Perfect, Hollis thought. Wiping her arm across her forehead and hoping they wouldn’t see her, she quietly slipped behind the bar and ducked to search through the basket under the register. All voices fell silent. So much for sneaking away. Hollis wanted to sit down in the cool air near the refrigerators and wait them out, but it was no use. She found the bags, threw them in her bucket, and stood to greet her uncle and her latest motivation to get her act together and get back to her life.
It was unfair how well just-rolled-out-of-bed worked on him. Hollis woke up lately looking like she’d had the crap beaten out of her until the cool water hit her face, but Matt somehow walked in the light. Despite his pillow-swirly head of dark hair, two days’ worth of stubble, and a wrinkled gray T-shirt, she found herself wanting to climb into his lap.
That’s perfect. Aside from the blatant stupidity of that idea, nothing says sexy like a woman who’s recently had her hands in a toilet bowl. Leave, Hollis, now.
“Hey, Tots. Whatcha doing?”
“I helped Candy service Big Earl and Miss Kitty.”
“At the same time?” Her uncle giggled.
Matt sat there, eyes shaded by sunglasses, with a blank expression similar to the one that used to glaze over his features anytime Hollis wanted to watch a movie with subtitles.
“You are hysterical, and so early in the morning. I’ll let you two get back to… whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Why are you cleaning?” her uncle asked as she turned to leave.
“Because Chloe has strep throat and calle
d in sick today. You have two early check-ins on the calendar and… those cabins aren’t going to clean themselves.”
“We have a calendar?”
She shot a fake grin in their direction. “We do now. You should check it out. Later gator.”
“Why do you call her Tots?” Matt decided to participate.
Hollis shook her head, knowing her uncle would not hesitate to share the origin of her awkward and borderline inappropriate nickname.
True to form, he pointed to his own chest and gave an animated jiggle that had Hollis holding back a laugh.
“Seriously? Because of her—” Matt smiled. “How is it possible I never knew this?”
“Because when I was younger, he wasn’t sharing it with the world,” Hollis added, looking at her uncle.
“It’s not as creepy as it sounds. Hollis came in from the beach one summer. How old were you?”
“Eleven. Can this please be over?”
“Right, she was eleven and there were some other girls on the beach with big boobs, well, big for that age. To make a long story short—”
“Too late.” Hollis moved the bucket she was holding to the other hand before her arm went numb.
Uncle Mitch was enjoying himself. “I told her that lots of great stuff comes in small packages. Like—”
“Tater tots, which then grew into Tiny Tots. All done. Thank you for that. Matt, stop staring at my boobs.”
“Sorry.” He looked up.
“Okay, I’m getting back to work.”
“Matt’s driving down to Point Reyes to help with the oyster run for today because the oyster guy up and quit yesterday. Did you know he has a band?”
Hollis shook her head. “How would I know that?”
Her uncle shrugged. “He’s also going to pick up some blue cheese too because the chef is making wedge salads tonight. Isn’t that nice of him?”
“The chef, yes. I love a good wedge.”
“I meant Matt.”
“He’s the salt of the earth.” Hollis was almost to the door.
“I was thinking you could go with him since you’ve been cooped up here for a while.”
Her back still to them, she closed her eyes. Her uncle had a way about him; Hollis liked to call it the Jimmy Buffett way. It wasn’t something he put on, it was more about who he was. Everything was light and easy, sun and fun. All things were possible and nothing was ever complicated and if someone, namely Hollis, was focused or not in the mood for piñatas and drink umbrellas, they felt foolish in comparison. She had no idea how he did it, but nothing, nothing was a big deal to her uncle.
“I’ll get those bags to Candy for you and help her finish up,” he said, still waiting for a response.
“I’m not presentable.” Hollis turned, holding out the bucket and looking down at her little wear-to-clean-a-toilet-bowl shorts and her navy-blue tank top with a fast-fading blotch she was certain was spilled bleach.
“We’re getting oysters. Does that require a wardrobe change?” Matt asked, standing and folding his arms across that stupid chest of his that appeared to have grown over the years.
Screw you, Matt. Sideways.
She kept that thought to herself, which was a feat of Herculean strength, but she wasn’t feeling all that powerful standing there without a bra on and holding a bucket, so she hushed her “sailor mouth” as her mother liked to call it and went with sarcasm instead.
“You are right. Thank you for pointing out my superficial tendencies.”
“No problem.”
Hollis lifted her arm, sniffed. “Let’s do this.”
Uncle Mitch laughed. “You two kids play nice. Take the truck. I gave Matt the keys.”
“Fantastic.” Hollis waved over her shoulder and walked out, shaking her nonsuperficial ass all the way to the truck.
There were worse things than spending the afternoon driving to Point Reyes with Hollis who, now that he took a closer look, was wearing next to nothing. He thought for a moment that he should be gracious and let her grab some clothes, but the very male part of him decided that wasn’t necessary.
“What? It’s not like I have any boobs, so it’s not that scandalous.”
Matt didn’t realize he was staring. Shaking himself free from the very real urge to haul her into his lap, he pulled onto Highway 1.
“You have… boobs. Can we call them breasts?” he asked after a few moments of silence.
“No. That’s stupid, they’re boobs.”
“I call them breasts.”
“Great, and if they were yours, you could call them whatever you wanted to call them, but since I have to prop them up in a padded bra every morning, they’re mine. My boobs.”
“They’re not in a bra now.”
“Right, okay. Thank you for noticing.”
“Anytime.”
Hollis folded her arms across her chest, and Matt smiled.
The truck rattled a bit as they drove along the curves that cut through green and golden rolling hills. Quick postcard views of the ocean were around every turn. Matt loved this drive. Nothing but the hum of the road and the occasional bump of the center line when he corrected too late in a bend. Hollis rolled down the window and stuck her hand out to feel the wind. He did the same and the air traveled up his arm, cooling the heat of the sun on his face. From the corner of his eye, Matt noticed her pull her legs onto the bench seat of the truck. She looked up at the trees canopying parts of the drive, and Matt wondered how many lives those trees had seen. How many young lovers, arguments, and leisurely Sunday drives had the trees above them witnessed?
There were times life could make a person feel big and important. He was certain her big stage was pacing the length of a conference room in expensive shoes, but at the moment, curled in her uncle’s truck with the windows down, Hollis seemed almost fragile. Nature, the ocean, the stars did that to a person. Matt’s dad used to tell him anytime he was feeling too “big for his britches” that it was time for a trip to the seashore. Glancing at her, he wondered again why she came back.
“Let me get this out. I’m sorry about the pier. I was… it was the moonlight, I’m not sure,” Matt said when it looked as if she might drift off to sleep.
“I think that’s in a song, the moonlight bit.” Hollis was now holding her legs to her body.
“O… Okay. Great. So you don’t need to worry that I’ve been pining over you all these years. I’m fine.”
“Good.” She looked out the window. “So you take it back then?”
He quickly glanced at her again, his eyes returning to the road.
“When you said you never want to let me go, you’re taking that back?”
“I guess.” Matt downshifted as they came around a turn.
“Huh.”
“Don’t do that, don’t one-word respond. That’s my thing.” He needed to focus on banter because the memories were strangling him.
Hollis, satisfied she’d gotten under his skin, grabbed a mint from the center console of her uncle’s truck. Mitch always had mints. She took in a deep breath, and he could practically hear her mind moving like the pieces of a powerful engine.
Something about being in the cab of her uncle’s old truck stirred things in Hollis. Even though the ride was rough and occasionally noisy, the smell of motor oil and wood mixed with a fair amount of dust made her feel safe. The fact that Matt was within touching distance and laughing as if they’d come from the movies and he was driving her home was equal parts joy and ache.
“Do you ever feel like life is short?” Hollis asked. “Because when I was younger it felt like everything took forever, but lately, someone has turned up the treadmill.”
“There you are, no more one-word responses. Let the deep car ride discussions begin. Much better, all is right with the world.”
“Shut up and answer the question.”
“Yes and yes.”
“Aren’t you cute?”
“I try.” Matt smiled. Dear Lord, the sea air agreed with
him.
“Now try to use your big-boy words in an actual sentence, Locke-ness.”
“Yes, I remember thinking things took forever. When I got my cast on sophomore year and I couldn’t go in the water for like two weeks after we came to the cove, do you remember that?”
Hollis nodded.
“My parents getting older, that seems like it’s rushing by. I swear they were forty last year.” He quickly glanced at her again, and they both smiled.
“Uncle Mitch says it’s probably my biological clock, which is such a stupid sexist thing to say. A woman’s life doesn’t suddenly speed up because she needs to reproduce. That’s bullsh— eet fed to us so… there can be a baby clothes market.”
Hollis was animated and wrapping up her point like it was a presentation, but when she looked over at Matt he appeared lost, staring at the open road. She had not been in a car with Matt, or anywhere for that matter, in years but she knew instantly what was wrong. His eyes still on the road, she recognized that particular kind of stiffness.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“What?” He glanced at her quickly. “Didn’t mean to what?”
“Bring up… I don’t know. I didn’t think and—”
“Is that what happened then? You didn’t think?”
“What does that mean?”
“Is that why you shut me off? Why it became your pregnancy and eventually…”
Hollis felt a rage build in her that she’d forgotten she had on the subject. “Eventually what, Matt? Since I shut you off before—go ahead and finish that thought.”
He pulled the truck onto the side of the road, threw it into park, and turned to her, his eyes filled with frustration and pain. Deep, long-held pain that Hollis understood.
“Eventually the miscarriage. That’s what I was going to say. Your pregnancy, your miscarriage, were you not thinking? Not thinking about us or about me?”
Hollis lost her breath and then started to laugh. She’d read once that people under extreme pressure often laughed. If this conversation didn’t qualify as pressure, she wasn’t sure what would.
Matt shook his head. “That’s great. Go ahead and laugh. Are you completely dead inside?”