Vacancy: A Love Story

by Tracy Ewens

  “The light goes on and if we can sneak out, we sneak out. Those rules haven’t changed and whether you want me to or not now, Holls, I’ll always come for you.” He kissed her cold nose. “Bad day at work?”

  “You told me to be happy when I left, remember?”

  “I do, and I added recently that I was secretly counting on you being miserable.”

  “Right. Did you mean that? Do you want me to be happy?”

  “I do.” The idea that being happy somehow meant her leaving again had him sitting up. Hollis joined him, crossed her legs even in her skirt, and looked at him as if he might have the answers she was looking for.

  “I want to be happy.”

  “Okay. What does that mean? Is there some kind of plan for happiness?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean there are things I need to clean up, to simplify, but—”

  “Can we talk about your plan inside? It’s cold out here and you”—he noticed the balled-up material was her perfectly pressed blazer from the morning—“should put this jacket on.” He put it over her shoulders and she took his hands again.

  “Do you have any hobbies, Matt?”

  He was used to these random changes of subject. Hollis had downshifted and changed directions for as long as they had known each other. Matt attributed it to her lightning-speed mind and loved how she pulled her thoughts and ideas seemingly from nowhere.

  “I… well, I’m reading this bad book right now, so I read. I paddleboard and kayak, summer stuff around here, but I’m not sure what you would classify as a hobby.”

  “Do you play checkers?”

  He smiled because she suddenly looked like a little girl wrapped in a grown-up’s jacket. “I do. We used to play all the time, remember?”

  She nodded. “I love checkers and backgammon. I used to make bookmarks and those friendship bracelets.”

  “I remember.”

  “And even when we were in college, we rode bikes and went on hikes. We did things. Oh, and I used to make cards for people.”

  It was good that she kept talking because he could barely breathe. It was like layers of whatever she’d gone through since they split were peeling off her and underneath was the young woman who sent him to the drug store in the middle of the night. He was sure those layers would go back on, but sitting there with her on the pier, he wanted to simply say, “Hi, Holls. Welcome back.” Instead, he sat there watching her find her way.

  “Anyway, the point is, I want to do things again. I want a life and not just a job. And this thing with us, I think it’s because we are split-aparts.”

  Matt raised his eyebrow, waiting for her to go on.

  “When I was driving back tonight, I remembered the story, and split-aparts are supposed to be like this. I mean they shared a body and then they were separated—that’s violent messy stuff. So, we need to remember that. You know?”

  He met her eyes and tried to think of a one-word response, something to tease her with, but instead he decided to give her the honesty she’d asked for weeks ago.

  “I love you. I love you so much, Holls, I’m not sure I ever stopped.”

  Her hands stopped flailing and she came to a complete stop, staring at him. Crap! There he was again out in the breeze with his heart in his ever-hopeful hand.

  Hollis leaned into him and took his face in her hands. “I love you, too,” she said quietly, looking farther into his eyes than he’d ever thought was possible. “I have… always loved you too but I have a mess. I’m a mess and I need to fix that first.”

  He pulled her into him like a child snatching something he wants off the shelf before anyone else can take it and kissed her. He would never have enough of her.

  “I don’t care if you’re a mess. Whatever it is, we can deal with it in the morning.”

  “I can deal with it. I mean I am dealing with it, but before you say you want me, you need to know—”

  Matt kissed her again and picked her up in his arms, blanket and all, before she could say another word. “Too late again, Holls. I want you. I love you and right now more than anything, I need you.”

  Hollis said nothing and kissed him again, so he carried her to Mr. Boots.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The last time Hollis and Matt had made love, it was tender and in the middle of the night after their second pizza during finals week. It was another seemingly uneventful moment she’d looked back on over the years and wondered if she would have done things differently had she known it was going to be the last time he touched her like that. Like everything else in the past, there was nothing she could do about it. Now, here they were again, and whether this was the first of many times to come, or the last one, she was going to cherish him this time.

  Matt kicked the door closed, leaned down, and she locked it. At first, when he’d whipped her into his arms like some great pirate, her heart had jumped in her chest, but now, in the darkness of her cabin, with no more than the light of that half-moon and the dim streetlight at the boat ramp, her heartbeat was deep and content. Eyes locked on one another, Matt set her down so they were both standing by her bed. Hollis brought her hands to his chest as the power of his breath moved through his body. He was a force all on his own, and after a day of being someone she no longer wanted to be, she was playful and pushed on his chest. Matt fell back onto the bed.

  “You know a lot of guys have a hot corporate woman fantasy. Not you, though, I bet.” Hollis suddenly felt a different kind of power as she flipped open the top button of her blouse.

  Matt was propped up on his elbows as a slow, sexy smile spread across his face and his eyes shifted to her blouse. “Nah, it’s never been my thing.”

  Hollis could feel his eyes on her and the thunder of his breath as she unzipped her skirt, which fell to the floor, revealing her garters and stockings. Matt’s hands clenched and opened as if his sense of touch had recently been restored. Hollis kept her heels on because they made her feel powerful and if she was going to strip off her costume, who she’d decided to become when she left him behind, she needed a few more minutes of courage.

  “Well, that’s good you’re not into something so cliché, so typical male.” She stepped out of her skirt and returned to unbuttoning her blouse.

  Matt stood from the bed but still kept his distance as he brought his hand to his face and brushed over a day’s worth of stubble, his eyes glued to each button like he was about to make an important decision. Hollis opened her blouse and let the sides of silk slide off now-golden shoulders. Her boobs were never a big reveal for Hollis when she’d gotten undressed for other men, but she knew Matt. She knew what he liked and didn’t, what turned him on and drove him crazy. He loved her, all of her, and even though she barely filled out an A cup, as her blouse hit the floor, he closed the space between them and Hollis held on tight.

  “There are some”—he kissed down her neck, undid her bra—“benefits to this fantasy. I can see that now.”

  Hollis laughed and at the warmth of his hands, his mouth dancing across her skin, she let out a moan. Matt swept her back up into his arms.

  “Is this part of the fantasy? Do you take me on a conference room table now?” She kissed his neck and felt him suddenly still. He was looking at her as if she might disappear.

  “There are some in the drawer,” she said softly, refusing to allow the huge wave of all their yesterdays crash over them.

  Matt put her gently on the bed, opened the drawer, and put a condom on the nightstand.

  “Are you—” he started to ask.

  “No, I’m not. I’m not at all sure. Does that have to make a difference? Do I need to stop you if I’m not sure?” Hollis closed her eyes because she needed a break from looking at him.

  “No.” He kissed her softly, flipped open the garters, and started gliding the stockings down her legs.

  She opened her eyes to his smiling, mischievous face. “It’s only us. It has always been us. Shut the rest of it down for a whil
e, for right now. You can analyze it all tomorrow, I promise I’ll listen, but for now, right now, I’d like to have you screaming at me for a different reason. Is that okay?”

  Hollis nodded and felt her own playfulness return. “Some men like to keep those on.”

  Matt smiled, set the last stocking aside, and kissed his way around her legs. “I’ve been trying to tell you this for years. I’m not some men, Holls. I’ll choose your bare skin every time.”

  Dear God, the way he said her name was erotic all by itself. One more smile, a gentle nudge of her legs, and Hollis lost all memory of anything that had happened before. It might as well have been the first night they’d made love on the tiny island in the middle of the bay. Like some sort of implosion, everything fell in on itself and the one thing that mattered was what he was doing to her, his tongue, and the unguarded heat each time she touched him. Matt made his way back up her body and Hollis felt like they were in water, swirling and gasping, their lungs straining until their bodies finally took hold, pulsed through the waves, and floated above the surface like the best out-of-nowhere afternoon rain.

  Matt sat on the small patio of Mr. Boots and could make out the faint outline of the two islands that sat watch in the center of Tomales Bay. The largest, Hog Island, was about two acres, and it was where he took Hollis the summer they turned eighteen. The closest side of the island was a protected seal sanctuary, an important fact Matt forgot when they were in his kayak and making their way toward the island with blankets and Oreos. Hollis loved Oreos and somehow his eighteen-year-old mind thought cookies might help ease any nerves. After seeing the Keep Out signs with his flashlight that night, they paddled around to the other side of the island, which was a little creepier and not exactly the most romantic place for a guy wanting to have sex with his girlfriend for the first time, even with Oreos. He smiled at the memory now and the awkwardness that moved their lives one step closer to each other.

  The other island, Duck Island, was much smaller. Matt had wanted to swim out there as a kid and find out once and for all if Hog and Duck were one island or if they were split apart. Split-aparts, he thought, smiling again and remembering Hollis’s words on the pier a couple of hours ago. While his entire body was still humming, Matt couldn’t help but wonder again about the “mess” she had mentioned again. What is this big mistake?

  “Did you know that the San Andreas Fault runs right through our bay?” The screen door squeaked open and Hollis, wrapped in a blanket, took the seat next to him and looked out toward the water. “In fact, rumor has it that the earthquake of 1906 is what separated the two islands.”

  “That’s a rumor.”

  She looked at him, and the moonlight danced on her bare shoulders. She was flushed and so stunning, it was a good thing Matt was already sitting down.

  “I guess,” she said softly. “They’re not really separated, you know?”

  He didn’t know.

  “There’s a sand pit that connects them so even though they look like two separate islands, they have perpetually been joined under the surface.”

  Matt knew in that moment why nothing ever worked after her. How could it? It was possible, he thought as they sat in the quiet night, to love someone first and for so long. To be connected all the while appearing singular. He wasn’t one for symbolism. In fact, the first time Hollis had told him they were split-aparts he’d thought she was a little crazy, but she was right. They were and would forever be connected even if they couldn’t manage to make things work above the surface. Even if he lost her again and a thread was all he had to hold on to, he would because they were one.

  Hollis started laughing.

  “Laughter is good, but rarely after sex,” Matt said.

  She kept laughing. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that the first time you and I made love it was on that island right there?”

  “Hog Island. I know, why couldn’t I have picked Desire Beach, a little up the way. That would have been a much more romantic story.”

  “True, but I meant Fat Pigs. Fat Pigs, in a roundabout way, has brought me back here with you.”

  They stopped laughing. She obviously realized she’d said more than she meant to and he was busy trying to pick up the breadcrumbs.

  “Fat Pigs the game?”

  Hollis nodded and offered nothing more.

  “Would you like to elaborate on that?”

  She shook her head and looked so beautiful and sad at the same time that he wasn’t going to push it.

  “I never realized how important pigs were in my life,” he said, taking her hand. She smiled and he could see her return from whatever it was she was trying to again handle all by herself. The little she had let slip had Matt thinking. He couldn’t help it. Fat Pigs. How had a simple game caused this much trouble?

  Hollis brought his hand to her lips in a gesture he recognized as, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” God, how many times had he heard that either through words or actions meant to keep him out? In all the years he’d known her, Hollis Jeffries had not once ever handed over the reins, fallen, and let him or anyone else help her up. He wasn’t sure how to tell her that she could save herself, but he’d like to help, so he held her hand and looked out at the islands.

  Without a word, Hollis stood and led him back to bed. This time, her lips, her breath had brushed over every turn and ridge of his body, until he’d all but lost his mind. When it was his turn, when she was writhing beneath him, softly pleading his name, he slid past everything that distanced them during the sunlight hours, shattered them both, and prayed to the moonlight that she would let herself need him, at least this once.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hollis woke up, wrapped in a very real adult Matt Locke, and proceeded to panic. She quietly padded to the bathroom and pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants she’d left hanging on the back of the door. Grabbing her phone, she saw it was almost five o’clock. Hollis was on autopilot, she knew she was, but could do nothing to stop it. She needed air, room, so she pulled her hair through a Mitchell’s Cove cap and rooted in her bag for her keys. She stopped at the front door of the cabin to glance back at Matt’s naked sleeping body then stepped into the early morning mist.

  As she backed out, she noticed her uncle’s old truck. She’d grown to love the warm vinyl smell and the bounce of the clutch. Sitting in the plush leather of her car again, she felt like an imposter, but like those con artists down by Fisherman’s Wharf, she no longer knew which life was real and which was the fake. It had been so easy mere hours ago with Matt, but now it was morning and none of what she promised seemed possible without the moonlight.

  Her skin still warm from his body, Hollis rolled down her window, started up Highway 1, and began to cry. Oh God, how long had it been since she’d cried like this? She found being pissed and getting even were more productive in her world than any kind of crying. But as the tears seeped toward her neck, she was awash with guilt that reached down deep. All the pain she’d pushed away came rushing to the surface, and her crying turned to sobs. No wonder after they broke up she never went back to the cove. It was a survival instinct that kept her away because she was no longer that girl. She’d become something else, and now she was trapped.

  She took the road that eventually dropped her into Bodega Bay as the sky began to brighten. When she’d first woken up next to him, drowning in him, she thought she might go home. Some screwed-up part of herself had chimed in while she was getting dressed and even suggested she should check on her apartment, maybe get some fresh clothes. By the time she climbed in her car, she’d reminded herself that her housekeeper texted her every few days and that she already had all of the fun, beachy pieces of clothing in her wardrobe. Besides, what would that do to Matt when he woke up and found out that she had gone back to San Francisco? Why did that thought, the introduction of Matt’s feelings, still feel awkward and new to her? Hadn’t she thought of him before, wondered what it was like for him?

  Hollis kne
w the answer was no; they’d already covered this and she had not considered his feelings, but now that he’d held her, made love to her, she couldn’t reconcile it. The idea that she could have been in a relationship with him for so long and loved him at times to desperation but somehow not care how he felt was too much to take. If she was able to admit that to herself, what did that make her?

  She tried to quickly change her thoughts, but she’d never been good at squashing something until it was thought into the ground, so she found herself wanting to remember what had happened the day she left—or did he leave first? Jesus, she couldn’t remember. All she knew now was the more she tried to recall who she was back then, the more images of a young Matt flooded her mind.

  “Do you need anything?” he had asked when she called him over Christmas break to tell him she’d lost the baby a little over three weeks after taking the tests.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Should you go to the doctor?”

  “I drove back to campus and went to student health. I’m fine.”

  “You went back to school? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “There was no reason. What, did you want to hold my hand? I’m not pregnant, it went away on its own, so I didn’t see the point in bothering you.”

  “Bothering me?”

  Hollis said nothing because she was numb.

  “What are you doing, Holls?”

  “I’m… trying to figure some things out.”

  “Like?”

  “Like what I want and where I want to go in my life.” The emphasis was on the “my,” Hollis remembered, and she was all but certain she’d never asked him how he was dealing with everything.

  “Okay, well try to get some rest. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

  “I’m not going to be home, so maybe next weekend.”

  The line was silent and she remembered hoping in that stupid twentysomething push-pull way that he would say something, but Matt wasn’t the kind of guy to push, so he said he loved her and that he’d call her later. After that, all that remained of their relationship were long periods of silence sprinkled with the occasional argument. That summer, Hollis graduated in under three and a half years. Matt moved out of their apartment on the day of her graduation and left Stanford the following week. Something that had started so simply on the pier at Mitchell’s Cove and had grown over so many summers took a mere few months to unravel. And there it was, turning in her stomach as the memory faded. She hadn’t thought about him, not once and what was worse… she’d never even thought about—