Love Always,

by Sonya Loveday

  I stopped in front of him. Suppressed my laughter when he moved back another step, seeming startled from my hasty halt. Even more so by my sudden closeness.

  “Look,” I said plainly, noticing for the first time that he had nice, brown eyes. Easy eyes. “The human condition is delusion, and this whole place—” I moved my arms to showcase the country club, “is swimming in it. I refuse to be a victim of it. I refuse to become normal. I refuse to subject myself to a future that deep down I want no part of. That’s what I mean by servant of life.” I looked him over. “You should try it some time.”

  He actually flinched from my words, but it didn’t take him long to recover and speak from his years of formal breeding. “That has a definition—irresponsibility,” he said, but it didn’t sound like he even meant what he said.

  “Irresponsible?” I repeated, smiling at him, intrigued by his disciplined way of thinking.

  He looked hesitant.

  “Phillip!” a girl called out from the pathway. “Are you coming?”

  I peered over his shoulder and inwardly winced. Sophia Kennedy—the world’s biggest bitch and daughter of the man who signed my paychecks.

  Time to go.

  “Look, Phillip,” I dragged out, my smile growing. “It was a pleasure meeting you, and I wish you luck in life. I’m sure you’ll be great at whatever you’re told to do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Whatever you want it to mean,” I said. “See ya around.”

  “I SWEAR WE SHOULD TAKE stock in Depends,” Hannah said as we entered the side door to the building where we worked every night, five nights a week.

  I snorted out in laughter, not able to help myself. I knew it was wrong of her to say, but we both knew good and well that tonight would be packed just like every other night with the elderly who, for some odd reason, enjoyed our nightly shenanigans.

  “I’m serious,” she said, her laughter matching my own. “We’d be freaking rich.”

  Hannah was one of the rare few who saw the world through the same lens as I did. She snuck into bars with me, shopped at the same hand-me-down stores, handed strangers random notes with compliments, laughed way too much, cried just as much, and she chose to let the wind push her as hard as it pushed me without a worry or a second thought.

  “No. What we should do is be grateful they even show up,” I reminded her, grabbing a bag filled with the last of the decorations for the Rockin’ Retro Dance Party.

  “Please. They love us. We’re the only real thing happening around here,” she said, grabbing the ladder and heading out into the main hall.

  I skated behind her, watching the on-site maintenance crew changing a few of the bulbs in the ceiling to colored lights.

  It was customary that we had an appropriately-themed dance every Friday night. Samantha—the activities director—thought it would keep the blood youthful for the elderly who paid ridiculous amounts of money to spend their summers with us, rather than the plethora of other high-end vacation spots New England had to offer.

  And honestly, I agreed with her. For once. They looked forward to those nostalgic nights where they could relive pieces of their past. It was obvious in the way they swayed to and fro to the music, pressing their bodies close together with eyes squeezed shut. The way their faces lit up when music long lost pumped through the speakers, compelling their feet to move.

  That was my favorite part of this current job of mine. The beauty in the frailty. The stolen moments where age drifted away and our inner child came out to play. Because the truth was, we were all carved out of time. We were all constantly shedding pieces of our present, changing into our futures with every ticking second.

  I was going to live every one of those seconds as if they were my last.

  “Can you give me a hand with these streamers?” I asked Ricardo, one of the maintenance men who had been there from the beginning.

  “Sure thing, Miss Fairchild,” he replied with a smile, grabbing the end I handed him and climbing up the ladder to tape it to the wall.

  “Who do you think Mr. Codwell will hit on tonight?” Hannah asked as she pulled the black-and-white checkered cloth out and spread it across one of the tables designated for snacks and beverages.

  I smiled to myself, thinking of last week’s disco-themed party and Mr. Codwell’s wandering hands.

  “Mrs. Peterson didn’t seem to mind,” I said, handing Ricardo the other end of the streamer.

  Hannah snorted to herself, smoothing out the last of the tablecloths. “Yeah, because it’s probably the only action she’s had in a loooooong time.”

  “Too bad you can’t say the same for yourself,” I said, laughing when her mouth opened in shock.

  “You bitch!” she said on the edge of laughter, chucking a vinyl record table-topper at me. My knee hitched up, and I nearly lost my balance as I blocked the record with my hand. “You’re just jealous ‘cause you haven’t gotten any in like forever.”

  “By choice,” I reminded her, steadying myself on my skates.

  “Yeah, well,” she said, handing the bag of decorations over to one of the employees assigned to help us. “Don’t hate just because I choose to enjoy my youth.”

  I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Sleeping with the guests is a big no-no. And he wasn’t even that good looking.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “The lights were off and he kissed like he knew what he was doing.”

  I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “I suppose that justifies it then.”

  “You girls need anything else?” Ricardo asked as he climbed back down the ladder.

  “She needs a stick removed from her ass,” Hannah said with a large, very direct grin.

  It took a moment for Ricardo to put together the fact that she had really just said that. And when he did, shades of red darkened his cinnamon-colored skin.

  “It’s okay, Ricardo. We’re good here,” I said, patting him on the shoulder.

  “Okay,” he said, immediately turning and heading out.

  “You’re bad,” I said when I turned back to Hannah.

  She grabbed the last of the bags and headed back toward the kitchen. I followed after. “I’m just being honest,” she said, flipping the switch to the lights. The room changed drastically as red and white lights spilled over the dance floor.

  “We did it again,” I said, crossing my arms and taking in the entire room. It was like stepping into the past. The guests were going to love it.

  “Four down and two more to go,” she said, moving toward the locker room.

  We were three weeks away from being out of a job again. There were a little over three weeks until I started the next chapter in my life.

  “You still planning on heading out to Cali when the summer’s over?” she asked, grabbing a poodle skirt hanging up in the wardrobe closet to hand to me.

  I took it from her. “Yeah.”

  Reaching around her, I grabbed the lilac-colored cashmere sweater and sat on the bench, unlacing my skates. “I’ll be working a small dive shop for a guy my dad used to fish with. Mike. He said the tips are great if I work the charters they take out for diving trips, which is great because the more I save, the sooner I’ll be out on the water.”

  She didn’t answer right away as she sat next to me, pulling her shoes off.

  “The offer is still there for you to come,” I said, leaning into her.

  “I know,” she replied, standing so she could pull her pants off. “I’m just not sure I’ll have the funds. Plus, my mom still insists that I need to go to college.”

  “You should,” I said, sliding the skirt up my legs and zipping the side. I didn’t want to make her feel bad. Separating was one of the only things that bothered me about moving across the country. We had been friends for so long. It was hard to imagine her not being around and easily available.

  “Yeah, because I’m rolling in the dough.”

  I bit my lip. To me, the most expensive part of college
wasn’t the loans or the scholarships… it was the exchange of your precious time in return for an education that really wasn’t going to benefit your career. Years of repression in exchange for education.

  There just had to be another way.

  “Ask your yuppie boyfriend you’ve been fooling around with. His Rolex alone could probably fund you.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me. She hated anything conventional just as much as I did, but she had the potential to be great. School just wasn’t my thing. Not because I didn’t want to learn, but because of how I would learn.

  Textbooks. Lectures. My brain crammed full of information that would more than likely never come in handy.

  I wanted to use my senses. Be hands on. Travel, meet new people, learn different jobs, languages, and cultures. I wanted my degree to be in life experiences. Wanted to taste the seasons in every part of this great, big world, watching the way the sun rose and set from as many different towns as possible.

  You couldn’t experience that stuck behind four walls. You couldn’t feel life when your nose was in a textbook.

  “Anyway,” she said, putting her clothes in her locker. “You want to head out to the lake after this?” she asked, changing the subject. “Charlie’s having a bonfire. There will be boys, music, and beer. Maybe even a little moonlit skinny dipping.” Her voice hitched up in excitement on those last two words.

  “Sure,” I said, giggling as I tucked in my sweater.

  “Okay, cool.” She moved to the mirror, working bobby pins into her hair. When we were both finished and looking like girls plucked straight from a 1950’s Sears catalogue, we poked our heads out of the room, watching as the guests started filing in through the main doors.

  “It’s showtime,” she said, and then we headed out, pinning smiles on our faces.

  “I WANT EVERYONE TO SPREAD out into a line,” Hannah said into the mic.

  The usual guests did as she said, nervously laughing and looking to Hannah and me for guidance.

  “We’re going to play a quick game of heads or tails and, whoever wins, gets to dance with the lovely Maggie,” Hannah said, using her free hand to showcase me.

  I did a small twirl and bowed as some of the guests clapped. Tried to ignore the few who waved us off and headed back to their tables in the back of the room. This was one of our many ways at getting the guests to dance. They’d been sitting or standing along the walls chatting for the last hour, rather than filling up the dance floor.

  “Okay, this is how it works,” Hannah said, holding up a quarter. “I’m going to toss this and, before it lands, you pick heads or tails. Heads,” she said, touching her head, “or tails.” She touched her backside.

  A few of the guests chuckled, including Mr. Codwell.

  “Here we go,” she said, tossing the quarter. Eight tosses later and somehow, Mr. Codwell ended up by my side, his arm draped around my back.

  “Cue the music,” Hannah said to the DJ as she moved out of the way.

  Mr. Codwell spun me around and then pulled me in as we swayed to the rhythmic hum of music. He was a tall man with grey, bushy eyebrows and neatly slicked-back silver hair. His skin was wrinkled at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He was a smiler, and he wore an air of pride that touched on older days when appearance and reputation were more valuable than belongings.

  Hannah told me that he was in the oil business. Owned one of the major companies that struck rich back in the seventies. He recently decided to vacation here since his wife just divorced him. And so he spent his nights with us, and his days on the golf course.

  “You’re a lovely girl, Maggie,” Mr. Codwell said as he held my hand and moved me around the floor. Little by little, couples filtered in around us.

  “Thank you, Mr. Codwell. You’re quite dapper, yourself.”

  He chuckled to himself. “You remind me of this girl I knew back in the sixties. Loretta. She had a spirit like yours. Wild. Free. And her hair was the color of strawberries. I used to love watching her dance. The way her long hair would sway under the sunlight.”

  His smile was distant. I could almost see the girl dancing in his eyes as he thought of her.

  “Strawberries are flattering,” I said, smiling up at him. “I’ve recently been told I looked like a basketball.”

  We both laughed.

  “I never did ask Loretta for her hand,” he said distantly, his smile disappearing.

  “Why not?”

  His eyebrows dipped. “Fear, I suppose.”

  “What could you have possibly been afraid of?” I asked, bending back as he dipped me.

  He pulled me back up. Looked right at me. “Caging her in,” he said honestly.

  I could relate to that. Part of why I hadn’t been with anyone for so long was because of just that. They always wanted more. Wanted restrictions and routines. Needed devotion and attention.

  I couldn’t love like that. Couldn’t stand the thought of being suffocated by the one emotion that was supposed to set us free.

  So I decided not to. At least, nothing serious. Heavy.

  Mr. Codwell spun me again, and my eyes locked like magnets on the one person I was sure I wouldn’t ever run into again.

  Phillip.

  I’D SPENT TWO HOURS TOO long strolling the docks, looking at yachts I cared nothing about with Sophia. Two cringe-worthy hours of my life that I’d never get back. And for what?

  To look like a complete ass. That was what.

  After I had walked away from the girl on the basketball court, flustered and just a slight bit unhinged, I might add, Sophia had wedged her arm through mine and proceeded to guide me along the dock, squealing over the lineup of multi-million dollar boats with names like ‘High Roller’ and ‘Miss Fortuna’.

  “Believe it or not, Phillip, size does matter,” Sophia had said, brushing the slope of her breast against my arm.

  Inwardly, I cringed, but I kept a mild look of interest on my face. “Larger boats do handle the seas better, I suppose.”

  She tittered beside me, squeezing her fingertips against my bicep, pulling me to a halt beside one of the larger boats docked at the end of the inlet. “Isn’t she lovely?”

  I murmured my appreciation, not really knowing what else to say. It was a boat. A very big boat. Large enough that I had to crane my neck to look up at the bow of it.

  “Come along, Phillip. The captain will be waiting for us inside,” Sophia said, urging me to keep up with her as she led me over to a set of stairs specially built to board the massive vessel.

  With no choice but to be a gentleman, I escorted her up the stairs, suppressing the urge to pry her fingers from my arm and make a mad dash for freedom.

  No sooner did our feet touch the deck, than the captain strolled out, beaming a smile from ear to ear. “Miss Kennedy, how lovely to see you! The vessel’s been made ready and, with your word, we’ll set sail.”

  “Thank you, Captain West,” she answered, tilting her head ever so slightly in her regal way.

  I staggered back a step. “Uh… what do you mean—set sail?”

  Sophia turned to me with an iced smile and pinched eyes. “I’ve scheduled a trip around the harbor, Phillip. I can’t very well buy a boat without knowing how it will handle on the water.”

  I felt myself turning a pasty, sickly shade of panic. Sophia. On the water with only the wait staff and the captain.

  No way in hell.

  She’d have me at the altar claiming I’d ravished her while at sea.

  Backing up another step, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Inhale. Exhale. There had to be a way out of going with her without creating a scene.

  “I believe the gentleman might be getting a tad seasick, Miss Kennedy. Maybe it’s best he stay behind,” Captain West said, eyeing me as if I’d just tossed the contents of my stomach up on his shiny, teak-wood deck.

  I’d never been one for theatrics, but maybe it was high time I dipped my hand in that pot. Mother said my face was as readable as an open boo
k, but I’d be damned if I’d spend the afternoon marooned with Sophia Kennedy.

  “The captain’s right, I’m afraid. Just being here, tied to the dock, is making my stomach roll. I’m sorry. Have a good trip!” I said, turning on my heel and making the quickest escape in the history of escapes.

  “Meet me for dinner at five, Phillip!” Sophia called out after me.

  I pretended I couldn’t hear her and kept moving down the dock as fast as my legs would carry me. Meet me at five… I don’t think so, I thought, wondering what sort of activities were going on that I could make my escape to. I’d be sure and check as soon as I got back to the country club.

  “A WINE TASTING AT THREE and a 1950’s-themed dance at six is what we have on schedule today,” Daisy, the activities director’s assistant said, looking over her computer screen at me.

  “Drinking or dancing? Sounds like a good combination. Mark me down for the dance.” I slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter to her adding, “And if anyone asks, please tell them I’ve had this booked for two days.”

  Her eyes creased at the corners as her fingers hovered in front of her, not sure if she should take the bribe.

  “Please? You’d be doing me a huge favor,” I added, sliding the bill to where it hung over the edge of the counter.

  “I’ll make note of it, Mr. Warrington,” she said, folding the bill in half and tucking it into the pocket of her crisp white shorts.

  “I appreciate it very much,” I said, tapping my knuckles against the counter before turning to leave.

  I felt the impending doom of Sophia Kennedy’s maneuvering fall away. I just needed to steer clear of Mother for a few hours, and I’d be home free.

  Father would be too wrapped up in catching up with business acquaintances, old and new, as he always did when we went on our family vacations. I couldn’t recall the last time where we’d actually spent a full day together doing something with just the three of us. Family vacations for Father meant that Mother and I were left to our own devices until the last night where we’d sit down together for dinner.