by Yessi Smith
I nod.
“From my limited understanding, water evaporates into the atmosphere. It builds up and forms cumulus clouds. Eventually, those clouds become so dense with moisture that they form water droplets that become rain. The End.”
I roll my eyes, both annoyed and amused with his story.
“Travis”—I burrow my face into his shoulder and hide my smile—“don’t be a turd.”
He methodically rubs his chin, as if he’s lost in thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called a turd before.”
“Maybe the word ‘turd’ is a Texas thing?”
“You don’t know?”
“Storms. You’re scared of them?”
“Scared? No.” He shakes his head, unable to believe I asked such a thing. “I just don’t like them.”
“Okay, fine. You don’t like them. How come?”
“Does there have to be a reason?”
I think about it and decide, yes, there does have to be a reason.
The way he was watching the storm clouds roll in reminded me more of a fighter staring at an opponent than someone who simply didn’t like storms.
“I don’t like birds,” I offer, a memory of a small child and Poppa suddenly forming. “Poppa used to raise them when I was a little girl. I liked to play with them, probably a little too roughly.” I smile, seeing a younger version of myself and Poppa with smiles that didn’t know what the future held for either of us. “Anyway, Poppa told me that I should never put my face close to them because they like to peck at shiny things, like eyes. So, I hate birds.”
Travis laughs lightly beside me and pulls me even closer to him. “Did you just remember that?”
“Yeah.” My breaths come in quick spurts as I try to hold on to the memory, the smells, Poppa’s voice mixed in with the chirpings of his birds, the trees around us with our house to our side. I search for a memory of my mom, but I can’t find her, so I let it go and look back at Travis. “Yeah, I just remembered that.”
Travis kisses my forehead, his hot mouth lingering there, and I close my eyes with my head leaning against his lips. He kisses me again before he pulls away.
“I was five, maybe six, and I was living with one of my foster families. This one had a lot of other foster kids, all of them older than me. None of us got along with each other, but they were especially mean to me because I was the youngest.”
He scratches his chin again before he runs a fingertip over his lips. “One night, a couple of them woke me up and told me that our dog was out back and wouldn’t come in. The dog’s name was Emmy, and she was terrified of thunder. I ran outside to get her, but as soon as I was outside, they locked the door. My foster parents hated when we were loud, so I couldn’t knock or scream for anyone to open the door. I just sat on the steps and waited for them to let me back in.”
His expression hardens, his jaw tightening as his eyes pierce the wall in front of us. The agonizing weight of his memory binds him, steals him away, so I squeeze his knees to bring him back.
“They never came back though. I stayed outside all night, and I just sat on the patio steps while it rained on me nonstop. My foster dad thought I had locked myself outside on purpose, so he punished me by making me stay outside anytime a storm came. I’d stand there in nothing but underwear under the rain while the other kids laughed.” Bitterness rolls off of him waves, each word coming out as lashes against the air. “So, yeah, I’ve hated storms since then.”
My heart hurts for the five-year-old boy who was left out in the rain alone, but my heart fills with pride for the man he’s become. This man doesn’t run from a woman who might very well be bat shit crazy, but he holds her in his arms when she’s at her weakest.
“Storms make oaks grow deeper roots,” I repeat the words Derrick told me just before I left when I told him how afraid I was of the storms brewing inside me. He said some famous guy had said it, so it can’t be just some silly saying. It must be true.
I turn when I sense Travis’s eyes on me, and blush when I come face-to-face with his amused grin. Rather than letting me squirm away from him, Travis envelops me in a hug where his smile presses into the side of my face.
“Tell me more about oaks, princess.”
“Whatever,” I retort with a smile playing on my lips. “I don’t want to.”
He turns me around, so we’re facing each other, and he kisses the side of my lips. “The oak is stronger because of the storms. I like that. Who are you quoting?”
“Someone a lot smarter than you.”
I bolt off the bed and run through my house, and with nothing but a nightshirt on, I run down the path that leads to the beach with Travis close behind me.
Two months have passed since I last saw her, and my agitation has grown to the point of destruction. The girl I killed did nothing to appease that agitation. She meant nothing. She was nothing.
I rein in that destruction, so I won’t frighten Erica, only allowing the restlessness loose when she is asleep, and I’m alone in the woods. With a goal in mind, I use that time to hunt and hone my carving skills. Through these solitary lessons, I’ve learned how to cause pain without accidental death. The pain feeds the appetite the girl has left me with, and for now, I’m satisfied.
My satisfaction grows when I’m with Erica, who has been having better days.
Yesterday, she even asked me to put on The Beatles, one of her favorite bands. I carried her off the bed and gently placed her feet on the floor. I eased her body against mine, and together, we swayed to the music.
I wish Bub would have come by today so he could have seen his mom like this. It’s been a long time since she’s had a good day, and it would do him good to see her when she’s at her best.
That night, she cried in my arms, repeating how much she loved me. I wiped away her tears, and I hurt even though I knew they were tears of joy. In response, I told her how much I loved her and that she was and always would be my everything. She then told me how lucky she felt, but I reassured her that I was the lucky one.
To this day, she completes me, healing wounds that would otherwise still torment me. My only remaining torment is the girl.
Later in the evening, I realize how I can destroy her emotionally and force her to find me at the same time.
There’s always a solution. It just so happens that this solution will not only bring her to me, but it’ll also be fun and far more satisfying than when I simply held her captive.
With the sun grazing over my skin, I lie down with a book in my hand while Travis rides his skim board and Leeloo dives for rocks that need her attention. Travis tried to teach me how to use the skim board, but after a couple of hundred tries, it was obvious that the only thing I’d accomplish was breaking my tailbone. Besides, I prefer the view—and what a view Travis makes. Every one of his muscles contracts, twitches, and glistens in the sun as he tries to surf the waves when they come onto the shore. The ink of his tattoos, the lyrical art of his life, sheens against his skin.
I’ve already drawn him more than a dozen times, each one in a different setting, but here, out in the sun with his shirt off and his tattoos exposed, is my favorite sight. And I know I will cherish these drawings as much as the memories we have made together when I leave all this behind. I think the time to go is drawing near, and my heart hurts at the thought. My goal was to find myself and become independent, and I’ve done both. I’m stronger and know what I’m capable of. I’m proud of myself and how far I’ve come, and I know that a portion of my growth is due to Travis.
Travis, I breathe his name, a jumble of thoughts crashing into me. I’ll be leaving him behind, because as he said before, why should he leave Harbour Island? Certainly not for me.
After a short few months, we can’t guarantee each other anything. And I’m okay with that. What we currently have is special, and there’s no need for empty promises that neither of us could fulfill.
I love him. Plain and simple. But love doesn’t factor in because it can’
t. What I feel for him won’t go further than this island and the magic she’s given me. So, I’ve decided to close my heart to love and just live in the moments we’ve been granted. And when I get home I’ll tattoo his heart on my chest, keeping him with me forever.
“I have to go,” Travis reminds me.
My stomach tightens at the thought of meeting his family in few minutes. He leans down to kiss me, but worry freely crosses my face.
“Stay here, and relax, princess. I’ll be back.” He kisses my lips again. “They’ll love you. And if they don’t?” He dramatically raises his eyebrows. “They’re only the closest thing to a family that I’ve ever had.”
I smack his shoulder, and he lets out a thunderous loud laugh.
“Way to pile on the pressure.”
After another kiss, he leaves. Leeloo lifts her head and perks her ears as she drops a rock on the shore when he makes his way up our path to his golf cart. I call her to me, but as I expected, she ignores me and plunges back into the ocean. Without Leeloo to keep me company or to keep my mind from reeling, I head to my house and busy myself with cleaning up an already immaculate house.
While scrubbing the toilet, I hear Travis’s voice boom, and my stomach drops, my tongue thickens. I’m not good at meeting new people, especially when those new people are Travis’s family.
Looking in the mirror, I smooth my hair back and then roll the tension off my shoulders—once, twice, three times. The tension remains, so I give up, and after putting up my cleaning supplies, I walk out of my house and onto my back patio where Travis guides a woman up my steps.
She’s beautiful in a subtle way with dark features and long, curly dirty-blonde hair. She’s short, the top of her head barely reaching Travis’s shoulder. But what draws my attention the most is her hand on Travis’s arm. In that simple touch, there’s love, familial love from mother to son.
My heart sings as much as it hurts for the love a mom naturally gives.
Walking to them on shaky legs, I extend my hand in greeting, but she bypasses my hand and hugs me. I step back, trying to retreat, when she kisses my cheek. Wide-eyed, I stare back at Travis, who puts his arm around my shoulders.
“I should have told you. Barbara’s a hugger.” Travis’s eyes look back at me with both amusement and worry.
I push past my initial shock and smile back at Barbara.
“Don’t mind me.” She waves us off. “I’m just happy my boy has found someone special.” She pats him on the shoulder.
I turn crimson red, and Travis shifts his feet, as if he were in fact a boy.
“I don’t know how special I am”—I smile, trying to lighten the mood—“but Travis can tell you that I’m all sorts of weird.”
“Travis Keillar, why would you let her speak of herself like that?” Barbara admonishes him.
I grin when he shuffles his feet under her intense glare.
The uncertainty only surfaces for a fleeting moment. Had I blinked, I would’ve missed it. His half grin is back, and I find that I’m more attracted to that than the endearing uncertainty of being scolded.
“Holly isn’t just weird, Barb.”
He winks at me, so I flip him off.
“She’s also a bit crazy.”
“Only a bit?” My smile widens, and I relax in the ease of our banter.
“I can’t tell her the extent of your craziness. That’ll just scare her off,” Travis says to me.
“Your son is a charmer,” I narrow my eyes at him and swat at his shoulder playfully.
Barbara smiles. That’s her son, and she knows him far better than I do.
“A real romantic with his words,” I add.
“I tried to teach him manners,” she hooks her arm in mine, “but some things are lost on the boy.”
“He has other qualities,” I reassure her.
Barbara turns when she hears the rest of her family loudly making their way down the beach.
Travis takes that opportunity to whisper in my ear, “My other qualities are excited to please you later.”
“Travis,” I whisper back, angling my chin toward Barbara and the rest of the family.
“That’s okay. Anticipation only makes the hard-on longer,” he growls in my ear.
Wait? What does that even mean? Hard-on…son of a—
My cheeks redden while Travis’s body shakes beside me in laughter. With my heart hammering in my throat, I eye him, hoping he’ll keep any other sexual innuendos to himself.
“My name’s Sofia,” Travis’s youngest niece, who is about seven years old and the spitting image of Barbara, introduces herself. “Uncle Travis,” she calls to Travis before I get the chance to respond, “come play.”
Travis walks to her and picks her up, and she wraps her arms around his neck, clasping her dimpled hands together behind his head. With her in his arms, he runs down our path to the beach and dives headfirst into the waves.
My eyes widen in shock while my body readies to sprint after them in case Sofia is hurt or in danger.
“Don’t worry.” Barbara places her hand on my arm and squeezes. “Sofia is a fish.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Travis’s older brother advises Barbara. “She thinks she’s a mermaid.” He looks back at me and says, “Sofia has Travis wrapped around her little finger. He’d never let anything hurt her.”
Of course he wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t. I nod politely at them, embarrassed by my reaction, and make my way down to the beach.
“I’m Robert.” His older brother sticks his hand out for me to shake when we reach the shore, and then he points at his wife and younger brother. “My wife, Mari, and that’s Trav’s and my middle brother, Roger.”
I smile back at all of them and nod my head again. At this rate, my head is going to roll off my neck at any minute. “I’m Holly,” I state the obvious. “I’m happy to meet you guys.”
“You’ve met Sofia,” Mari links her hand through my arm. “The other three hellions are already stalking the beach for shells—or boys. Hopefully, just shells.”
Probably boys though. A smile creases my face as I watch the three girls walking along the shore in the opposite direction of their parents with Leeloo beside them.
That was Amber, Stephanie, and me. I don’t have an exact picture yet, but I can almost see the three of us at our parents’ lake house, scouring the beach for boys or tanning as we listened to music. The picture clears, and three young girls make an appearance, the girls whose main concern was music and boys. But, eventually, our talks became about more.
I walk away from Travis’s family as small snippets of memories come back to me.
Stephanie was the first to have a boyfriend, the first to kiss a boy, and the first to lose her virginity. I remember her excitement. How in love she was with each boy who she gave a piece of herself to. How heartbroken she was when neither proved to be the boy he’d promised he was.
We drowned her sorrows with pints of ice cream and pizza—in that order. We promised to never lose our hearts to boys. Only Amber and I were able to keep that promise—until now.
I’ve lost my heart to a special boy while living on a small island, and I never want it back.
It’s his to keep or throw away. Either way, it no longer belongs to me.
Travis comes up behind me and puts his arms around my waist. My body leans back on him, and he kisses the back of my head. I turn around to look at him, and when I lean in to kiss his lips, he brings his hand to my face and wipes away a tear I wasn’t aware I had shed. He looks back at me with concern, and I smile at him, pushing the sadness away.
“Memories,” A grin spreads across my face. “I remember my best friends back home.”
Happiness and sadness clash against each other, each fighting for their spot in my heart. I rest my head on his chest while he puts his arms around me, and I tell him about Amber and Stephanie and the tidbits of our lifelong friendship that I’m beginning to remember.
“You’ve nev
er seen Star Wars?” Roger asks me for the third time.
“Sorry, Roger, but my answer is still no.”
“Ask her again,” Robert suggests, winking in my direction.
“I just can’t believe it. Trav, tell me you’re gonna remedy that.” Roger’s eyes plead with Travis.
I hide my smile into my wine glass.
“I don’t know if I should.” Travis takes my wine glass and sips it before giving it back to me. All nonchalance while Roger’s body hums with frustration.
“You don’t know if your girl should watch a classic?” Roger paces, his voice on the verge of hysteria.
“I’ll watch it, Roger,” I promise, shooting Travis a warning look when he shakes his head.
“You’ll watch them,” Roger says, emphasizing the last word.
“You mean, there’s more than one?” Unease skates in my belly, settling in its pit. I mean, isn’t Star Wars lame and primarily for dorks?
“I can’t!” Roger throws his hands in the air. “I just…I can’t! Holly!” He takes my hand in his, and I try not to laugh at the concerned look on his face. “Holly, it’s okay. I have all six of them digitally. We can start watching them tonight.”
Travis, Robert, and Mari groan in unison. Barbara not-so-subtly takes Sofia and runs out the back patio door, disappearing, with Robert and Mari’s other three daughters close behind her. Although the bottle of wine Mari and I are drinking is still half full, I open up another one just in case we need it.
“You don’t have to do this,” Travis whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“It’ll be fun,” I say, almost convincing myself in the process. “Let’s do this, Roger!”
I grab Travis’s hand before he can run away, and I guide him to his couch with both of us holding a bottle of wine. Mari follows us and hands me my glass of wine, which I quickly finish off so that I can pour myself another glass.
“Drink faster,” Mari whispers. Then, she finishes her glass as well.
Robert fills her glass before he sits down on the couch, and he takes Mari with him so that she’s sitting on his lap.