Western Waves

by Brittainy Cherry

  When you were used to living on your own and then put in a situation to live with others, you became extremely aware of your small habitual behaviors, like washing dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Or tossing dirty clothes straight into the washer instead of into a basket. I couldn’t do that anymore because the washer was more of a community thing now.

  Though, even with my grumpy mood, Stella didn’t do much to piss me off too much. She was a very clean and organized person. She hardly left anything out of place, and sometimes, she’d even ask me if I needed anything from the store when she went out. She was beyond considerate even though we had a rocky start.

  I was somewhat surprised that her boyfriend didn’t wife her up already. I didn’t really do intimate relationships, but I could see Stella being a hot commodity to men. She was goofy, yes, but gentle, too. Kind and considerate. Beautiful. The kind of beautiful that sometimes made me stare when she wasn’t looking. Sometimes, I’d catch her in a room laughing by herself at something on her phone, and she’d toss her head back with such a look of glee. Her mouth would be wide open as she chuckled, and she’d even slap her thigh in jolly, completely losing herself in the moment. Sometimes, she’d even snort, and well… when I’d catch those moments in action, I understood what pure happiness looked like.

  It made me envious. I could see it when I looked at her—that joy. My brain just couldn’t comprehend what something like that felt like.

  I did sometimes wonder, though, what she’d be like if she got mad. Did she get mad? Did she ever snap? Or did she simply go from happiness to sadness? To hurt? I wondered what angry Stella looked like.

  Though, I didn’t know why I was wondering at all. Still, every now and again, she’d show up in my thoughts while I was working.

  Every evening, she’d go out to the water fully clothed and dive into the ocean, too. I began leaving her fresh towels out by the coast for her to use to dry off afterward. I never asked why she dove in fully dressed. I was certain she had her reasons. Reasons that I, or any other, didn’t need to understand.

  I kind of hated my thoughts—how they allowed her to enter my psyche whenever they wished.

  On Thanksgiving evening, I sat down in my office, trying to work. Stella had invited me to join her for their holiday dinner, but I wasn’t interested. Plus, I couldn’t fly back to celebrate with Connor and Aaliyah, seeing how I couldn’t be away from the house for more than forty-eight hours due to the will arrangement.

  I also was trying to shake off an odd kink I had in my lower back from my weightlifting session earlier that day. It felt as if a ton of tension was pulling at it, and whenever I turned slightly, a shot of pain would course up my body. The discomfort was unruly, making it almost impossible to work.

  A knock on my door broke me from my work and pain.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  Stella appeared with a smile against her lips because she always had a smile against her lips. “Hi, there.”

  “Hello.”

  “I brought you a plate from my Thanksgiving dinner and a spread of desserts, too. I put them in the fridge for you.”

  Thoughtful, Stella.

  She was good at being thoughtful. Most people weren’t. Stella excelled at it.

  “Thank you,” I told her.

  “Welcome. Also—” She paused, alarmed when she looked my way. “What’s wrong with your back?”

  “Nothing,” I said, not even realizing I was cringing and rubbing my lower back again. The pain was intense. I hardly knew how I’d be able to tackle my workout the following day.

  “You hurt yourself. How?”

  “Just tweaked a nerve working out.”

  “Here, let me help,” she offered, walking over to me. “I’m a licensed masseuse.”

  “No, really, it’s fine. I—”

  Am melting into your touch.

  Stella’s hands landed on my back, and she gently began to knead my lower back. Her fingers dug deeper into my skin with the perfect amount of pressure.

  I shut my eyes and sighed. “Lower,” I stated. “Harder,” I echoed. “Deeper, deeper, deeper.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, that feels good.

  “Those are normally the comments I say to men,” she joked.

  I didn’t expect my commentary to sound as dirty as it did, but her laughter made me realize how inappropriate it could’ve come off.

  That sweet, joyful laugh…

  Pure happiness.

  I didn’t have a chance to respond because she went deeper, and I moaned.

  Yup. I moaned out loud from her hands pushing into my lower back.

  Leaning forward, I rested myself on my desk, allowing Stella more range of motion, and with that small adaption, she went to town. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered as my legs trembled from delight. My hand made a fist, and I pounded on the desk repeatedly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, right there, right there.”

  She giggled because I probably sounded ridiculous, but I didn’t care. Her hands were made of magic, and I somehow became spellbound.

  When she finished, she took a few steps back. It took me a few moments to sit up, but I was shocked by how I felt when I did. I was sitting up straighter. I hadn’t even known I’d been that bent out of shape. Though, I was certain some of my employees would’ve pointed out that fact.

  “That was…” I breathed out, a bit in a daze. I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

  “How many days a week do you lift weights?”

  “Six.”

  “And how often do you stretch?” My silence was deafening. “Damian!” she scolded.

  “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “It’s a massive deal!” she hollered. Was this it? Was this her level of angry? Or… no. It was concern. Dammit, Stella, what did you look like when you were pissed? Why did I care?

  She continued, and I was a bit locked in on her concerned expression. “You’re wreaking havoc on your body. You need to add stretching to your workout routine.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. That’s an order. Also, you should get a massage weekly. You’re very tense, and your body would thank you for it.”

  “I don’t have time for a weekly massage.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m a busy man.”

  She smiled. “Your body is crying out for help. If you keep ignoring the calls, it will break down to the point where all you have is time because you’re too broken to move.” She grabbed a piece of paper and pen from my desk and scribbled down the information. “This is the name of my massage studio. Call in, and we’ll set you up with one of the best employees.”

  “Why do you even care what happens to me?” I asked deadpan.

  She gave me a puzzled stare. “Because you’re a human. Therefore, you deserve people to care about your well-being?”

  “Do you know most people don’t think like you?”

  Her shoulders rose high and then dropped. “Just because people don’t think like me doesn’t make their thoughts right. We need more people who care about others in the world.”

  “Yes, but that’s a make-believe world.”

  “What can I say? I love good fiction. Besides, I think there are more good people in this world than bad.”

  “You’re delusional to think such a thing. Most of this world is shaped by evil. You’re ignorant to think differently.”

  Stella instantly showed her hurt by my comment on her turned-down lips. Maybe it was my words, but I felt it was more so my delivery of the words. I came off cold more often than not, but I never felt bad about it. If people thought I was cold, it made it easier for them to want to stay away.

  Correction: I used to never feel bad about it. Something about Stella’s emotional reactions made me almost feel… guilt. No. Not almost. I felt like a dick. She wore her feelings right on her face. I kept mine buried deep within my soul. She and I were so opposite in so many ways.

  “What’s the reaso
n that you’re so grumpy all the time?” she asked.

  “There has to be a reason?”

  “There’s always a reason.”

  My mouth parted to respond, but I didn’t want to share the thoughts filling my head. I knew my reasons for being the way I was, but I had no desire to share those details with my wife.

  My temporary wife—a woman I’d only be tied to for a few more months.

  “I need to get back to work,” I said, the chill of my words almost making me cringe. I couldn’t help it, though. She had my mind going to dark places, and the last thing I wanted was for her to see me when the clouds darkened over my head.

  “Who hurt you, Damian?” she whispered, her words soaked in concern.

  “The world,” I replied without a second of thought.

  I wished I would’ve thought that one out more because that seemed to be enough to break Stella’s delicate heart. I winced a bit from her look of worry. She stared at me as if I were an abandoned puppy, and she just wanted to take me in and cover me with comfort.

  “Don’t do that,” I warned.

  “Do what?”

  “Care.”

  “Can’t help it.” She gently rubbed her hand up and down her arm and shrugged. “It’s kind of what I do.”

  “Well, go do it elsewhere. I’m—”

  “Busy,” she cut in. “Yes. You’ve made that clear.”

  I looked away from Stella because I couldn’t stand staring into her brown eyes. They almost always made me want to apologize for being the way I was.

  She stood there for a moment, waiting for me to say something, but I wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Truthfully, she made me uneasy. Something about her felt familiar even though I never allowed familiarity to be a part of my life. She smoothed her hands against her bare forearms and nodded once. “Okay, well, okay. Maybe we should talk and—”

  I grimaced, feeling a knot in my stomach. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?”

  “For how I am?” It came out as a question even though it was meant to be a statement. I shook my head and brushed my thumb against my nose. “I’m sorry for making things uncomfortable. I, uh, I’m not used to living with people. I’m not used to biting my tongue. I’m not used to… this,” I said, gesturing around. “Interactions with someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?”

  “A good person.”

  “I’m sorry you haven’t come across many good people in your life, Damian.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It’s not. But I understand. This whole situation is odd, so I get it.”

  “It’s not just this situation,” I confessed. “I don’t do well.”

  “With what?”

  “Other humans.”

  “Oh,” she said in understanding. “Well, people can be a bit overrated.”

  “You love people.”

  She laughed and shrugged. “For better or worse.”

  The corner of my mouth twitched a little as I tried to pull my thoughts together. “I’ll do better, as I said with the vows. I’ll try to be better at not being the asshole that I am. I’m sorry I’m an asshole. I’m working on it. Just, please… Be patient with me.”

  A softness found her brown eyes as she tilted her head to stare my way. Her mouth parted, and I traced the curves of her full, heart-shaped lips with my mind. It was amazingly easy for a human to set their stare on her and become fixated on her perfection. Stella looked like a piece of art that would be highlighted in the Louvre Museum.

  Breathtaking.

  Even when I was a dick toward her, a part of me noticed her remarkable existence. She didn’t know it, but sometimes it was hard simply being around her beauty.

  “You’re not an asshole, Damian,” she whispered, her voice dripping with a kindness I wasn’t certain I deserved. “You just have asshole tendencies.”

  I chuckled a little.

  Her eyes lit up.

  I stopped my laughter.

  Her eyes dimmed.

  “I wished that stayed longer,” she mentioned, speaking of my laughter.

  I didn’t have enough nerve to tell her that I wished it had, too.

  “I’ll let you get back to work, but please, Damian, truly,” she said as she walked away, “get a weekly massage. You’ll sleep better.”

  “What makes you think I don’t sleep well?”

  She smiled once, a very knowing smile, and then went on her way.

  After she left the space, the room felt darker.

  Perhaps she was right. Perhaps darkness did have a way of following me around.

  11

  Damian

  * * *

  I started my morning with a workout in the gym on the property. Lifting heavy shit and dropping it was one of my favorite pastimes. Some people went to therapy—others went to the gym. I was the latter.

  After my workout, I usually showered and then went to prepare breakfast, but on my last set of deadlifts, the doorbell rang, making me grumble with annoyance. I headed to the foyer and opened the door to find an older woman standing there with huge photo albums in her hands. I knew her, well, I didn’t know her, but I’d seen her at the funeral and when she did the wedding ceremony. She lived in the guesthouse on the property.

  She had a head full of gray hair and wore a flowy hippie-type dress with white platform sandals. Even with the inches on the shoes, she only stood about five-foot-six. She was a tiny woman, but her energy felt larger than most.

  “Hi there.” She smiled. “Even though I married you to Stella, we haven’t officially met and held a conversation. I wanted to give you time to settle in. I’m Maple, Stella’s grandmother—by heart, not blood.”

  “She’s not here,” I commented.

  “I know, it’s Saturday. She’s in town taking an art class. Can I come in?” Maple asked. Kind of asked, I should say. Come to think of it, it wasn’t a question at all as she pushed her way through the door. “Did you just finish your workout?” she asked, making herself extremely comfortable in said house.

  “I wasn’t quite done yet,” I lied.

  “Does lying come easy to you?” she asked, moving toward the dining room. She set her basket down on the table as I followed her. She turned my way and placed her hands against her hips. “Or does it make you feel a bit dirty?”

  I don’t feel much of anything.

  “Yes.” She looked at me with such a genuine look of concern as if she could read my mind. “I can see that.”

  “I’m sorry, do you need something or—”

  “I brought you some photo albums of Kevin’s photography. I figured you might like to see it, seeing how you’re a photographer, too.”

  How did she know that? I didn’t talk to anyone about my photography hobby. Maybe she’d seen my cameras lying around or saw me outside taking photographs at the coastline.

  She smiled. “I’m just gifted at reading people, son. Don’t let me freak you out too much. I only believe in good magic.”

  What was she talking about?

  “Anyway, I’m also here about my Stella,” Maple said, though I was still stuck on the magic comment. Was she a witch? What in the hell…?

  “Oh?” I asked, trying not to be freaked out by this odd woman.

  “Now, my Stella, she is sensitive. You can tell her feelings simply by looking at her face, and she is one to speak on her feelings, too. She communicates them. She wants to make sure everyone in every situation is comfortable, even if it’s at the expense of her own comfort.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I’m not like Stella. I’m more like you. A pessimist. A bit cold to the world.” She smiled and nodded once. “Someone who doesn’t feel much of anything. But the small number of things I feel, the small number of people I care for, I feel everything for them. So I just came here to say, if you hurt my Stella—”

  “Maple—”

  “I don’t like being cut off
, son.”

  I shut my mouth.

  She continued. “If you hurt her… I will hurt you.”

  The fire in her soul almost made me feel as if my own skin was set ablaze. “I understand.”

  The harshness of her words evaporated a bit before her face eased up. “I’m sorry that the world hurt you.”

  “Did Stella tell you that?” I huffed.

  “No.” She shook her head. “That’s just how people like you and I are made. The world makes us jaded. I’ll get out of your hair. I just wanted to introduce myself and warn you about what would happen if you ever hurt my girl. Hopefully the message was received.”

  “It has been, and don’t worry. I won’t hurt her.”

  “Thank you, Damian.”

  I nodded once.

  She turned and began walking away but looked over her shoulder. “You’re a good man, Damian. Like your father.”

  I grimaced. “You don’t know me.”

  She smiled. “But I knew your father.”

  “He didn’t raise me.”

  “Yes, but if he had known about your existence, he would’ve loved to be your father. Being a parent was all he ever wanted. I hate that he missed that opportunity with you.”

  “What do you mean by he didn’t know about me?”

  “Just prior to his passing, he found out about your existence. He had no clue you were in this world until the news was brought to him.”

  A knot formed in my gut. I spent most of my life hating my father, thinking he’d abandoned me. I spent my teenage years trying to track him down simply so I could tell him to piss off. Then within one breath, I was told that he hadn’t even known about my existence. I didn’t know how to process that information.

  “Damian, I think it’s important for you to know that Kevin would’ve wanted you. He would’ve been in your world day in and day out if he had the opportunity.”

  I cleared my throat. “You said you were like me. A pessimist and cold.”

  “Yes.”

  “But then you do and say things that are the opposite.”