Reclaiming the Sand

by A. Meredith Walters

  “That’s a wonderful visual there, Kara. Thanks for that.” I looked at the clock on the wall and saw that I only had fifteen minutes until I needed to be at my advisor’s office. I started to pack up my books and shove them into my ancient bag.

  Ever mindful of Flynn’s location in the library.

  “I’ve seen him around campus. He keeps to himself. But I’ve heard he’s an amazing artist,” Kara was saying but I barely heard her. I was too busy trying to escape without Flynn noticing me.

  “Yeah,” I said, distracted.

  “He’s definitely a cutie but he seems a little weird. But I do like me an oddball,” she teased and I felt myself snapping back at her.

  “He’s not an oddball!” I said much louder than I intended.

  Fuck. I had the attention of everyone in a three-table radius. Including Flynn. He lifted his hand in a wave and I waved back before I could stop myself.

  Kara’s mouth was hanging slightly open, her face flushed red. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole,” she said, her feelings clearly hurt.

  Flynn was standing at the circulation desk. The girl was still talking to him but it was obvious he was ignoring her. I got the impression he was waiting for me. So much for avoiding him.

  I looked back at Kara and did the only thing I knew to do when I was feeling uncomfortable. I lashed out.

  “Well stop being one then,” I bit out, putting my book bag on my shoulder and walked off. So much for our burgeoning friendship. Something told me she wouldn’t be so keen to say hi the next time we saw each other.

  And my thawing heart didn’t feel particularly good about that.

  “Hi, Flynn,” I said, knowing there was no way out of the library without him seeing me. And hiding wasn’t my thing anyway.

  “I haven’t seen you lately,” he said, getting straight the point like he always did. The flirty librarian noticed she was being ignored and finally stopped her incessant talking.

  “Flynn, don’t forget the rest of your books,” she said, interrupting. I thought about growling territorially, but I wasn’t quite sure where these unreasonable feelings were coming from.

  Flynn didn’t bother to look at her; he simply scooped the books off the counter and carefully placed them in his bag.

  “I can’t wait for your workshop next week! I’m coming with a friend of mine. We love your work,” she continued.

  Flynn nodded and then turned back to me, cutting her off. I couldn’t help but laugh at his rudeness, which I totally appreciated.

  Librarian girl’s mouth hung open for a second in shock at his blatant dismissal and then slunk off as quickly as she was able to.

  “You have a workshop next week?” I asked.

  Flynn nodded, walking ahead of me to leave the library. He didn’t hold the door open, instead letting it fly back and knock me in the face.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, rubbing my nose.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, my sarcasm lost on him as always.

  “One of my conditions for using the art studio rent free is I have to provide workshops twice a semester. I have one next week. It’s on sculpting with unusual mediums. I’m using scrap metal,” he said as I hurried to keep up with his long strides.

  “Wow, you’re going to teach a bunch of people to sculpt with scrap metal? That sounds pretty cool,” I told him, finally falling into step beside him.

  “I don’t teach them. I sculpt. They watch. They try to do the same thing I do. I don’t like talking to people. I don’t like them looking at me either. Kevin says it’s a good step for me. So I’m going to try it. He says he might try to come up from Greensboro,” he said. And the long stream of information he had just given me surprised me.

  He was doing an art workshop for students. His therapist was in Greensboro. So he must have lived there at some point.

  “I’m sure you’ll do great,” I said, though my encouragement felt flat.

  Flynn shrugged. “Kevin says so too.”

  “Kevin is one cool guy,” I smiled.

  “Yes. He helps me. He tells me when I do something I shouldn’t. My mom used to do that,” he said swiftly.

  “What sort of things do you do that you think you shouldn’t?” I asked him.

  “Telling people they’re fat or ugly. Or yelling when they make me mad. He tells me when I should stay quiet and listen instead of talking. He also helps me know when people are happy with me and when they’re mad. But I’ve learned some of that on my own. Like I can tell you’re listening to me because you’re looking at me. You’re not mad because you’re not frowning but you’re not happy either because you smile when you’re happy. I know your face and what it looks like when you feel things.”

  I couldn’t help but feel good at his words. I grinned.

  Flynn pointed at my face. “See, now you’re happy. And you’re happy because of what I just said. Why is that?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, his hair falling into his face, making him look so much younger than his twenty-two years.

  “Because you know me, Flynn. No one else pays attention to my feelings like you do,” I admitted.

  Flynn chewed on his bottom lip and looked at me. He never once met my eyes but he stared at me intently all the same.

  “I like making you smile. It makes me smile,” he said, his lips stretching into a beautiful grin.

  I hesitantly reached out and took his hand, the same way I had done when we were teenagers. I linked our fingers together, pressing my palm against his.

  The first time I had done this many years ago, he had pulled away. It had taken a while until he was comfortable enough for me to touch him. And I wasn’t sure we were at that stage now. So much time had passed since I had last touched him.

  But seeing him happy, knowing how in tuned he was to me, I couldn’t help myself.

  I shied from physical affection as much as Flynn did. That was one of the many reasons I had felt so connected to him in the early days of our friendship. Neither one of us could handle the implications of touch. Both of us were so isolated.

  But then we had somehow found each other.

  And here we were again. We were still those same disconnected people that we had been years ago, only now a little older and a little more damaged.

  Once again I found myself reaching out to the only person I had ever felt safe with.

  Flynn Hendrick.

  The freak with Asperger’s. The boy whose life I had made miserable before I had made him happy. And then I had destroyed him before I could enjoy the changes he exacted in my life.

  Or maybe I hadn’t destroyed him.

  Maybe I had only succeeded in destroying myself.

  Because Flynn didn’t seem ruined.

  He seemed healthier than he had ever been before. His confidence, while still beleaguered, had grown by leaps and bounds.

  This wasn’t a man who had been beaten down by circumstances. This was someone who embraced life the only way he could. The only way he allowed himself.

  I pressed my hand into his and gave him a slight squeeze. I felt him stiffen and then pull away. His fingers escaping, recoiling.

  Flynn clasped his hands together in front of him and started that incessant rubbing that I recognized all too well.

  I curled my fingers into my palm and clenched them tightly. I felt his rejection acutely. I knew it wasn’t his fault. I knew his physical limitations. I felt them as well. But I had hoped…

  That was the problem. I had hoped.

  It would be so easy for me to get angry. To reject Flynn as surely as he had just rejected me. To call him names. To turn my back and walk away.

  But I didn’t.

  I dug my nails into my palm and gave Flynn a smile like he hadn’t just hurt me.

  He had no idea what he had done.

  “Where are you going now? Can I walk with you?” Flynn asked me. He was still rubbing his hands and I wished he’d stop. His anxiety was catching.


  “I have a meeting with my advisor to talk about classes for next semester. I’m not sure I’m going to go though,” I said, telling him the thing I hadn’t quite admitted to myself yet.

  Flynn stopped rubbing his hands and tucked them into the pocket of his pants. “Why wouldn’t you go? You have to pick out classes. That’s important,” he said, as if it were that easy.

  “Did you go to college, Flynn?”

  Flynn nodded. “Yes, I went to Guildford College. I graduated last year before Mom died. I majored in fine arts.” I wasn’t surprised. Flynn was smart. He was talented. Even at fifteen I had known he was destined for greater things than Wellsburg, West Virginia.

  “I never went to school,” I murmured, looking down at my feet. The pair of us must look ridiculous, standing there, neither looking at the other.

  “You’re at school now,” Flynn said, sounding confused.

  My shoulders rose and fell in an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know if I can keep it up. It’s a lot,” I said, giving voice to fears that I had tamped down with a lot of effort.

  “I don’t understand.” I could hear the frown in Flynn’s voice.

  “I just don’t know if it’s right for me,” I replied almost belligerently. I could tell him that a sad, little kid, raised in the system didn’t have a chance for happy, shiny futures. That I had accepted that I would my days in Wellsburg, living with Dania, hanging out with Stu, Shane and Reggie. Getting wasted on the weekends and barely paying my bills.

  It may not be the life I had hoped for, but it was the one I was given.

  “You should do it. I liked college. You will too,” Flynn’s reassurance washed over me.

  I startled when he took my hand in his. He twined his fingers through mine, just as I had done a few minutes before. My head shot up and I met his eyes. His intensity made me shiver.

  His fingers trembled in mine but he didn’t pull away. Our hands were joined together, his arm stretched out in front of him. He didn’t move any closer. We did nothing to close the distance between us but his palm pressed against mine was more intimate than if he had been holding me.

  “You should do what makes you happy. You are smart. You are beautiful. You can do anything. You don’t belong here. You belong out there,” he said. I was struck speechless. I never expected something so poignant from Flynn. He surprised me.

  He pushed me just when I needed it. Despite his social awkwardness, he had given me the words that I needed.

  His hand clung to mine and I never wanted him to let go.

  “I’ve got a meeting to get to. Will you walk with me?” I whispered, scared that if I spoke any louder I’d lose my nerve.

  Flynn nodded.

  And he held my hand the entire way.

  -Ellie-

  “Where’s Murphy?” I asked Erin after arriving at the animal shelter later that afternoon.

  Flynn had walked me to the Dunlop building and had let go of my hand.

  “I have to go,” he said.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” I had responded but he hadn’t heard me. He was already walking away.

  I had met with Professor Au, another English teacher at Black River Community College and I told her of the classes Professor Smith had suggested. She had agreed they seemed like good options. I needed to make another appointment at the financial aid office to finalize the grants to cover the costs.

  Then Professor Au had asked me, “Will you be looking to transfer to a four-year school for the fall?”

  And even despite Flynn’s pep talk and the huge step I had taken by confirming my continued enrollment for next semester, I just couldn’t commit to anything beyond that.

  So I had brushed off her question in my brash, rough way and our meeting had ended shortly after that.

  But I felt good. I had been given some cautious optimism. And that was a hell of a lot more than I had ever had before.

  I was in good spirits when I arrived at the animal shelter for my volunteer hours. I needed some fur and slobber and puppy adoration. It was with a dawning grief that I found his cage empty.

  I knew that he was scheduled to be euthanized next week, though I had purposefully kept this out of my mind. I didn’t want to think about my big beautiful dog being put to sleep. But I couldn’t commit to bringing him home with me, as much as I cared for him.

  Not now with my future so up in the air. Not when I was being pulled in so many different directions.

  Murphy deserved better than my flaky selfishness.

  Erin came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. I tensed and instantly pulled away. Her sympathy smothering me.

  I was too late.

  Murphy was gone. And I could have saved him. Once again my inability to make the right choices had cost me something that mattered.

  “He was adopted,” Erin said and I was so lost in hating myself that I didn’t register her words right away.

  When it finally dawned on me what she had said I felt my chest constrict.

  “What did you say?” I demanded.

  Erin chuckled but didn’t touch me again, though I knew it was killing her not to pat my back. She was the touchy feely type.

  “Apparently someone came in over the weekend and adopted him. I saw the paperwork on my desk when I got here this morning.”

  “He was adopted? He wasn’t put down?” I asked, needing the clarification.

  Erin shook her head and smiled. “Nope, he was really adopted.”

  She was already heading back to her office so I followed her. “Who adopted him? Can I see?” I asked.

  “I’ve already put the information in the system and shredded the paper.” She looked at me with that goddamned sympathetic stare of hers again. “You know, it really doesn’t matter who adopted him, it’s that he was adopted. He found a home,” she said.

  “But how do you know he went to a good home? What if they aren’t nice people? What if they hurt him?” I was feeling more than a little panicked. I thought about Murphy and his soft, loving eyes and laughing mouth. What if his new owners were assholes?

  “I’m sure they’ll love him as much as you do,” Erin said and I drew myself upright.

  “Don’t get carried away, Erin, I just want to make sure he went to a good home, is all,” I blustered, hating that she called me out on my feelings.

  What was wrong with me lately?

  But she was right. I loved Murphy. And even though, deep down, I was happy he had been adopted and I wouldn’t have to face the prospect of him being euthanized, it still hurt knowing he’d found a home with someone that wasn’t me. Even though I had the opportunity to give it to him and hadn’t because of my inability to commit to anything.

  But that was the story of my freaking life.

  Erin grinned at me like she had just learned some big secret. Instead of growling at her like one of the dogs in the shelter behind me, I turned on my heel and stalked off.

  Murphy being gone left a huge gaping hole in my chest. I enjoyed the other dogs. Some of them were pretty damn cute, but they weren’t Murphy. And I hated how attached I had become to the fur ball.

  I caught myself obsessing about his new family. I thought maybe I could get into Erin’s computer and see who they were. I had to stop myself from attempting it several times during my shift.

  Because Erin was right. The who really didn’t matter. He had gotten out. Someone had wanted him. They had given him a home when I couldn’t.

  I had to be okay with that.

  I felt heavy when I left the animal shelter later that night. I was supposed to go by Dania’s to hang out but I wasn’t feeling up to it. I wanted to go home and curl into a ball and sleep until I could wake up and feel semi-normal again.

  As if reading my mind, my phone chirped in my pocket and I pulled it out to see a text from Dania. We had maintained a tentative truce since our argument. It wasn’t the first time I had resented how she expected me to apologize for her behavior. But it was the first time I couldn�
��t let it go.

  I had always been able to tell myself that Dania was family. I could repeat the same facts over and over to make myself feel better. She had helped me when no one else had. She was there for me when I needed her after being sent to juvie. She had my back, always. Blah, blah, blah.

  But now those words felt hollow and fake. And I was beginning to see the massive holes in our friendship.

  I opened the text and saw a picture of Dania holding a bottle of vodka and Shane licking the side of her neck. The text read, Get over here bitch!

  I thought about texting her back and giving an excuse but I knew that would never fly and I didn’t have the energy for another round of fend off Dania’s crazy.

  I wrapped myself up in my I don’t give a shit shield and made my way to Dania’s apartment. I knocked on the door and tried not to sigh as I heard the sounds of laughter and loud music on the other side.

  It was only seven o’clock and it seemed Dania had a party in full swing. I heard a door open down the hallway and an older woman poked her head out.

  “You a friend of hers?” she asked, pointing to Dania’s door.

  I thought about denying our relationship.

  No ma’am, I’m just selling Bibles.

  “Yeah,” I said, already knowing what she was going to say.

  “Then you tell her to turn her damn music down. I’m sick and tired of banging on the wall,” the elderly lady wagged her finger and glared at me as though I were the one being a public menace.

  “Sure thing,” I said just as she slammed her door closed. I rolled my eyes. It was no wonder Dania was being evicted. She most certainly didn’t understand what it meant to be a respectful neighbor.

  Hell, she didn’t know what it meant to be a respectful anything.

  The door swung open showing a scantily clothed Reggie. Her short brown hair was sticking out on all sides of her head and from the glassy focus of her eyes, I knew she was on something.

  “Ellie…” she slurred, pulling me inside. I took in the usual crowd of people. Some weren’t nearly as inebriated as Reggie, but it was clear that they had been at it for a while.