I heard a loud thump and looked over to where Ed stood, hand spread out against his heart. “That hurt, mate,” he said, staggering over to fall on his bed.
“Shut up. You know what I mean,” I said, grabbing my pillow and hurling it at him.
It fell short, landing on the floor. Ed rolled over, scooped it up, and tucked it under his head. With an exaggerated groan of appreciation, his head lolled to the side. “Thanks, Phil.”
“Give me back my pillow. And stop calling me Phil,” I said, hearing the condescending, almost dick-ish tone in my voice.
“What’s wrong with Phil?” he asked, snorting as he sat up, gripping the pillow in his hands but not returning it.
“It’s not my name. That’s what’s wrong with it. My name is Phillip,” I answered, scowling at him.
“And my name is Edward George Henry Alcott, but that’s a mouthful and damn pretentious, truth be told. So I’m Ed and you’re Phil. It’d do ye a bit o’ good to get that self-righteous stick out of yer arse for a bit, I think. Not saying yer a complete wanker, but ye need to lighten up… Phil.” He tossed my pillow back at me with a grin, ending his dressing down.
I jabbed my middle finger up in the air at him, and then we both broke out laughing. Leave it to a complete stranger to tell me like it was. Stick in my ass and all, I couldn’t help but agree with him, no matter how much it bruised my ego.
“So about that party…” Ed picked up his earlier conversation.
September 7, 2014
Phillip,
You’ll never guess who I met…
Are you guessing?
Arnold-freakin-Schwarzenagger!
I know, right? He came into the shop I work at asking about a surfboard for his son. I nearly fell on my ass (because I tripped over my own feet like a damn loon).
You’ll be glad to know I didn’t though. I totally just played it off (or he was kind enough to pretend not to notice), and helped him pick one out.
Can you believe it?
Well, if you don’t, I’ve included a Polaroid. He even signed it for me. It’s for you, so don’t send it back. I also added a couple of others, but I’ll explain further down.
Anyway, how’s life? It’s weird sitting here writing to you as I stare out across the shore on the opposite end of the great, old US of A. I can still picture your face—your smile—and the paper almost feels alive beneath my fingers. Almost feels like it’s you… even though it’s not.
Yeah… so.
I’m staying in a studio above the shop I work at. Mike’s the owner. He’s a good friend of my dad’s. He used to work the docks back home, but now he runs this shop on the beach, taking a charter out daily with people who want to deep sea fish or dive.
Right now, he has me on shop duty, just to feel me out, but if I do a good job, then he’ll let me work on the boat he takes out by the end of the month. I’ll be living the good life, being the mermaid I’ve always dreamed of being.
(You know what I mean.)
Sorry that it’s taken me so long to write to you. After you left the Hamptons, I had so much packing to do. I ended up donating most of my stuff to local shelters because there wasn’t enough room in my Jeep for it all. I guess that’s what happens when you procrastinate.
And then it took me a week longer than I expected to get here. I decided to drive. I wanted to take my time to see the country, but of course, with my luck, my radiator had a leak, and I had to wait for the part to be ordered. So… I ended up in Roswell, New Mexico for four days, learning about aliens and praying I didn’t get probed (I added a Polaroid of this neat McDonalds that looks like a UFO).
But I still have my Jeep.
I wonder what you’re doing right now. Who your roommate is? How you’re feeling? I know you’re going to do an amazing job. You can do anything you set your mind to.
I just wanted to tell you that I’m glad I met you. I’m glad we have this. Even now, my stomach has butterflies just thinking about you getting this, and then writing me back.
It’s almost like we’re kids again.
But, I guess I should go now. Can’t wait to hear back from you.
“I’ll be back,” (hehehe)
Maggie
I SEALED THE LETTER IN an envelope already addressed to Phillip’s dorm, and then dropped it in the box outside my door, flipping up the little red flag. Heading back up to my room, I grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and sat at the worn, blue-flecked table I’d picked up from a consignment shop down the street.
It’d had been almost a week since I’d settled in. A week since I’d dumped my suitcases on the sagging, old mattress and set out to make the tiny space my own.
The smell of freshly painted walls brought a smile to my face as I looked at them with a sense of accomplishment. They were a vibrant banana yellow. The kind of yellow that makes you happy just by looking at it.
The cheery color also helped make the open-floor plan seem bigger than it was. Just from where I sat, you could make out the entire apartment. Turning from the table, I looked over at my bed, only feet away, and then let my eyes roam past it to the ornate, teal folding screen I’d found at the same shop I got my table from. Behind the folding screen was the sink, toilet, and shower, all snuggled together in the corner, but cleverly hidden.
The apartment, while basically big enough to be a shoebox, was livable, and it was all mine.
All thanks to my dad.
The night before I left, he sat with me at the kitchen table over coffee. I closed my eyes, almost able to smell the rich scent of it wafting up from the cup.
“So, you’re all packed and ready, then?” my dad had asked.
I nodded, taking a sip of coffee and holding it in my mouth to savor the bitter brew.
“I changed the oil in your Jeep and checked a couple of other things. She should hold up for the journey,” he said, lifting the cup to his lips.
“You worry too much, Dad,” I said, smiling at him.
The weathered corners of his eyes deepened as he returned the smile, reaching for my hand. “I’m proud of you, baby girl. Not everyone has the courage to go after what they want.” He set the mug down. “Hell, even my wallet wants to thank you for it.”
“Dad,” I started to say, laughing.
“No, I’m serious, Maggie girl. You could have gone to college. Could have chased the dream that breaks banks, but instead, you followed your heart, which is why I wanted to give this to you as a sort of going-away present.”
He reached into his back pocket, and then slid a folded-up paper across the table. It was a check for eighteen thousand dollars.
“Dad, I can’t—”
“Please,” he said, holding his hand up to shush me. “It’s the very least I can do. Your mother and I, we had already decided that if something should ever happen to either one of us, we would save this for you, just in case you did decide to go. Now, it’s your financial cushion. Or it’s the start to getting that boat you’ve been talking about.”
My eyes burned as bad as my throat. It was more than enough. With all that I’d saved up the past few years from working, it would cover the cost of the boat, just not what I’d need to survive for the years’ worth of traveling I intended to do.
But that could be saved up through my time at the dive shop in California.
“You can do better for yourself. Better than your mother and I did. Get out of this town and experience the world the way you’ve always talked about. The sea’s waiting for you, Maggie girl.”
My eyebrows dipped as a lump formed in my throat. I never thought my life was less than. Never felt like I had been jipped as a child. I had everything. Loving parents, a roof over my head, endless days in the sun playing… and he felt like I could do better.
I hugged him, telling him that, and that I hoped when the time came for me to become a mother, that I would meet a man as good as him, and would be able to give my children the life he gave me.
We talked for a little while longer, and then we s
tuffed ourselves with a feast of crabs he’d caught that morning. It was the perfect farewell dinner, and it almost made me wish I could stay a little longer, because who knew when I’d have the chance to come back.
But then the sun rose and fell, and I left that small town behind.
I threw the empty yogurt cup in the trash can, swallowing down the swell of emotion rising up like the tide inside me. I’d do right by my father.
I’d make him proud.
“MAGGIE, WE NEED THE BOAT re-stocked with bait. Think you can handle it?” Mike asked as he came in through the rickety, old back door.
I quickly folded up Phillip’s letter, tucking it in the back pocket of my shorts. “Got it,” I said, heading for the fridge where the bait was kept.
I wasn’t sure how many times I had read through Phillip’s words, but if I had to guess, I’d say I had just hit the twentieth time.
He was doing good. Had even told his mom to back off when moving into his dorm.
I smiled at that, feeling like maybe I had rubbed off on him.
And he had an English roommate. I could only imagine what those conversations were like. Hopefully, the guy was laid back. Phillip needed someone to keep him from burying himself in books since he decided to double up on classes.
“What are you grinning about?” Mike asked as I walked by him toward the boat, carrying a bucket filled with bait fish. The waves slapped against the beach not too far from us, carrying in the fresh scent of salt on the early morning breeze.
“You know the smell of dead fish always brings a smile to my face,” I joked, heaving the bucket onto the side of the boat. I climbed up the ladder, and then grabbed the bucket, using every bit of muscle in me to pull it over the edge.
A little bit of fish water sloshed over the rim of the bucket, landing on my feet. And here I thought I had left home behind, I thought, smiling to myself.
Mike chuckled and grabbed two of the many fishing poles we kept stocked for these trips. Trudging over to the boat, he said, “Listen, Zach isn’t coming in today and tomorrow. Want to try out the sea legs?” He set the poles near the boat and turned back for two more.
My heart stuttered in my chest. This was my chance. Maybe Phillip’s letter was the good juju I needed. “Yeah, of course,” I said, feeling like I was on top of the world as I dumped the bucket of bait onto a large amount of ice in one of the many coolers kept on the boat.
A few of the seagulls that sat on the roof of the shop swooped down over the boat, cawing and squawking like they do every morning.
“Good,” he said, handing one of the poles up to me. I grabbed it and rested it against the seat, then leaned over the edge as he handed me the next one. “Today, we have a small group… a bunch of guys coming for a bachelor party fishing trip. So be ready for that. Tomorrow, we have a couple and two of their friends coming on board. One of them just got their diving license last week. They want me to be their guide, so I’ll need you on board keeping an eye on the markers and other boats. Think you can handle that?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Okay. I called Jackie in. She’ll run the shop while we head out. Go grab your gear and meet me back here in twenty.”
Jackie was Mike’s for-now girlfriend. She covered the shifts at the shop on my days off. With sun-bleached dreads that hung down to her tailbone, she fit right in with the local people my age who moved in and out of the shop.
I dropped the empty bucket over the edge of the boat and hopped down, not giving him a chance to back out of taking me.
After rinsing it out and setting it outside, I headed up the stairs behind the shop to my room. All my gear was kept by the door, just waiting for a moment like this, so there wasn’t much prep-work I needed to do.
Taking Phillip’s letter out of my pocket, I changed into my bathing suit, applied a good helping of sunblock, and then slid my shorts back on. I stopped in front of the small whiteboard I hung on the wall by the door.
Get to California.
Get Mike to let me work the charter.
Save up every penny for my dream.
Head out for the biggest adventure of my life.
I crossed out the second goal, feeling like the sun lived inside my soul.
“One foot at a time, Maggie girl,” my father had told me the morning I left. I just needed to work enough to save, learn every little thing I could about running a shop like Mike’s, and then, one day soon, I’d set sail for my next adventure. My next job. My next life experience.
My stomach growled at me, so I grabbed a granola bar and smiled at the thought of writing Phillip. I had to tell him about this, even if the letter wouldn’t reach him for another four days or so. Aside from my dad, he was the only other person who I wished was close by so I could jump up and down and tell them how excited I was.
I was going to be working on the ocean. Just like I’d wanted to do ever since I was little. Just like I’d imagined myself doing for as long as I could remember.
My dreams were only just beginning to come true.
December 8, 2014
Hoops,
It’s bitterly cold here. I can only keep myself warm by tucking your newest letter in the pocket of my shirt, next to my heart, so that I may feel the love of your words and maybe even a trace of heat from the sunshine you’ve been soaking up.
New York in December is, as Ed would say, feckin’ cold, mate.
I’ve been trudging along with my classes and can proudly say I’m holding a fairly decent GPA this semester. Now I just need to get through the rest of this year and I’ll only have two more left. Yes… only two! I was approved for the accelerated program since I’ve done so well to date.
Ed thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am.
So far it’s been quiet on the home front. Other than a brief phone call the other day from Mother reminding me that I am to make an appearance for Christmas, I’ve not heard much else from her. I dread it. Going home for Christmas, I mean. I wish I were hopping a plane to California instead to celebrate it with you!
Ed offered to come along with me and give my mother something to really go on about. Can you imagine? It’s almost tempting to bring him just so I can get through the two days she’s requested my presence for.
I’ve finally broken down (at your insistence) and bought a Polaroid camera. I have a feeling I’ll be spending a fortune on film since Ed snatches it up every chance he gets to take pictures. I think he broke the record yesterday by going through an entire packet of film. He insisted you have all the many ‘faces’ of Ed… which is why I tossed most of them and sent you only the one of him and I together.
For all his quirks, Ed really is a good friend. I lucked out in the roommate department and was at least blessed with someone who has a witty, and sometimes shocking, sense of humor.
He asks how you’re doing every time I get one of your letters. And it’s genuine, not in that stuffy, nose-in-the-air, waiting-to-judge way in which I’m accustomed to. He’s keeping me grounded, yet not, if that makes any sense.
But enough about Ed!
What are your plans for Christmas? I hope you’ll have someone there to celebrate it with. Thinking of you alone kills me, especially at this time of year. In a perfect world, we’d be celebrating it together. My world is far from perfect right now, but I’m working on it.
And speaking of far from perfect… Sophia stopped by my dorm unannounced last weekend. To say I was shocked is sort of an understatement. I won’t fill you in on all the eye-gouging details because it would be like living through that torturous day all over again. Her poorly timed visit caused me to miss a class, but I was able to rush her out the door by telling her I had a meeting scheduled with the dean. A complete lie, but it worked. It was actually Ed’s idea, come to think of it. He pulled me aside when Sophia was her normal rude self and decided to call the wedding planner to go over, of all things, the seating chart.
Her visit was a waste of time and money. I even told her that! Can yo
u believe it? And I even went as far as to tell her not to pop in unannounced again because it was thoughtlessly inconsiderate to not only myself, but to my roommate as well. When she left, she did it in a huff, but she still managed to tell me she’d be sending me an emailed list of dates I’d need to put on my schedule so we can discuss the wedding details.
I don’t want to marry her. I have no plans to marry her. And I plan on telling her the next time I see her. I don’t care that it’ll cost me the ‘highly coveted’ position her father would give me. Marrying her for a job, any job, is something I will never lower myself to do.
I can’t let this charade continue. The guilt of it weighs on me, making it feel like I’m wrong for not saying anything. I’ve let it go on too long now as it is, and I just can’t do it anymore.
God help me, Maggie. I need strength for this, because as surely as I’m sitting here freezing my ass off, the opposite side of all this will be the fires of hell scorching my ass when I end my mother and Sophia’s delusion of the perfect wedding.
Think of me, and maybe toss in a prayer, some good vibes, or some kind of magical spell that will help get me through this. I’ll need all the help I can get!
Always yours,
SS Phillip
December 31, 2014
Phillip,
It’s raining outside, if you can believe it.
Mike’s given me the week off for Christmas, but I go back to work tomorrow. He says I work too much, but the thing is, it doesn’t even feel like work. Being on the water just about every day… working in the shop meeting awesome people… I don’t think I’ve ever felt more at home in a job before.
Which is why it will be sad when it’s time for me to leave.
Because of the ridiculously amazing tips I receive, I’m currently a quarter into the goal of what I need to have saved up for my big trip on the ocean. If all goes well, then I’ll be hitting the seas sooner rather than later.
Love Always, Page 15