by TL Alexander
He wads up a paper towel and throws it at me. “I asked you to marry me, and I believe you said yes.”
I dump the eggs into the hot pan. “I said yes, but I didn’t say when. I don’t understand this… urgency. What’s the rush?”
He runs his fingers through his bed-head hair. “I just don’t understand why we should wait.”
I flip the eggs.
“I’m not going to Vegas,” I repeat.
“It doesn’t have to be Vegas. We could go to Reno.”
“Seriously?”
“Carson City?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He frowns as I slide the eggs onto a plate and place it in front of him.
He grabs my hand. “Will you at least think about it?”
“You do know you’re crazy, don’t you?”
He swallows his eggs. “Crazy in love.”
“I’ll think about it,” I lie.
A PAWN IS USUALLY PROMOTED TO A QUEEN
The numbers stretch and turn into dashes and then lines. I rub my tired eyes and blink several times. When I look back at the computer screen, numbers reappear.
Vik steps into the back office. “I’m off.”
I look up from my work. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay; pay bills and figure out the payroll.”
“Nope. I have a date.”
I put down my pen and give her my full attention. Vik and I have never been close, but our relationship’s now bordering on friendship, and I’m glad for it.
“That smile says a lot, and yet, not.”
“He’s a regular.”
“Sam?”
She nods.
“Wow, that’s great. I’m glad you’re giving him a chance. He’s a great guy, Vik.”
Sam’s a regular pub patron and a super nice guy. He’s asked Vik out dozens of times, and then one day he just stopped asking. Apparently that’s what it took to get her attention.
“I don’t know why I turned him down every time he asked. It seems crazy now that I’ve gotten to know him.”
“Sometimes all we need is a chance.”
“Well, I better get going.”
“Things are slow. If you want to take the day off tomorrow, I’ll cover you.”
“Thanks, Bri. Sam has—”
“Thursdays off.”
“Well, this Thursday you won’t be seeing him.”
“Have fun.”
“We will.” She waves and leaves.
I get back to paying the bills. An hour later, I start on payroll.
Mark comes in and sits on the corner of the desk. “New flowers?”
I look up from my work. “Yep.”
“Just marry the guy and put him out of his misery.”
“His misery?”
“Okay, my misery.”
“What’s up?”
He hands me an invoice and points. “No tomatoes. Again.”
“Could you go to the market and buy some?”
“Sure.”
I unlock the bottom desk drawer, remove three twenties from petty cash, and hand them to him. “Don’t forget the receipt.”
“While I’m at it, I might as well do our shopping.”
“Great. I have a list.” I hand him a Post-it note.
He takes it and looks it over. “Seriously?”
I nod.
“There is a reason they call it chunky monkey.”
“Apples are on that list.”
“Oh, so a couple of apples are going to undo the damage to your arteries and your ass three pints of ice cream cause?”
“Speaking of asses, get your skinny one off my desk.”
He chuckles and stands. “All right, I’m out of here.”
“Don’t forget the receipt.”
He salutes me, “Aye, aye, Captain.”
I roll my eyes as he walks out the door.
I pull up time sheets and get back to work.
Mark walks in less than an hour later and hands me a receipt.
I take it and place it on top of my pile of receipts.
“They only had two pints of chunky monkey, so I got a pint of rocky road.”
“Rocky road? That sounds wonderful. You did well, my friend.”
“Or course I did.”
“So go and get—”
He retrieves an item from a grocery bag and hands it to me.
I smile and take the ice cream. “And a—”
He reaches behind him and removes a spoon from the back pocket of his jeans and hands it to me.
“I think I’m engaged to the wrong guy.”
“Sorry, girlfriend, your equipment doesn’t do it for me.”
I wad up a piece of paper and throw it at him. “Get out of here. You’ve got work to do.”
“About that. Would it be too much to ask—”
“If you could leave early? Go ahead. But let Kat know you’re taking off.”
He salutes me, again. “Anything else, Captain?”
“That will be all. You’re dismissed.”
He grins and disappears.
I open the pint of rocky road and eat several fortifying spoonsful before I get back to the payroll.
When I’m done with the payroll and the pint, I shut down the computer and join Kat up front.
Two regulars sit at the bar. I look at my watch.
“Whatever happened to subtlety,” Kip says to his friend Steve.
“I wouldn’t know subtlety if it bit me on the ass,” I tell them.
They laugh.
“Pay no attention to Bri’s poor customer service. You still have thirty minutes to finish your pints,” Kat tells them.
I frown her way, and they laugh even harder.
“I’m going to use the restroom. You better have the glass washers loaded and all the tables wiped down by the time I get back, sister.”
“Only if it takes you an hour to pee, sister.”
“Score one for Kat,” Steve says, and they high-five.
I roll my eyes as I make my way to the restroom.
I pee and wash my hands.
I walk out the door and—bang. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see…” Standing in front of me is the man who looks just like Terrance Thomas. “Who are you? And why are you following me?”
“I’m not following you, Morgan. I’m not even real.”
I stare, not able to speak or move as he walks down the hall, pushes open the door, and disappears.
My head begins to spin. I lean back against the wall and force myself to breathe. “He was real,” I tell myself. “He bumped into me. I felt him.”
When the hallway stops spinning, I return to the bar. “Did you guys see that man?”
“What man?” Steve asks.
“The man who just came out of the restroom. Tall, blond, wearing jeans and a black leather jacket.”
“I didn’t see anyone,” Kat says.
“Are you sure?”
“I was in the back for a minute or two. I guess he could have slipped by.”
“Sorry, Bri. I didn’t see anyone go in or come out,” Kip adds.
Kat places her hand on my shoulder. “You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good.”
She frowns. “Why don’t you take off? I’ve got this.”
“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you to close alone.”
“We’ll stick around. Make sure Kat gets off safely,” Steve says.
“Are you good with that?” I ask her.
“Of course. Go, get out of here.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Bri, I’ve got this. Now shoo.”
A buzzing sound wakes me. It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s my phone. I pick it up off the nightstand and look at the screen. I press Accept. “Kat?”
“Oh thank God.”
I sit up in bed. “It’s—” I look at the time on my phone. “—3:00 a.m. What’s wrong?”
“Turn on the TV, channel eight.”
“What?”
“Just do it. And call me back.”
“Okay,” I say and disconnect. I grab my robe from the end of the bed and put it on. I then make my way into the living area, turn on the light, and look around for the damn remote.
I spy it on the floor, pick it up, turn the TV on, and select channel eight.
“Oh my God.”
Mark walks in rubbing his tired eyes. “What the hell’s going on?”
I point to the TV. He sits down next to me on the sofa.
“Turn it up?”
I turn up the volume, and we listen to the reporter.
“If you’ve just joined us, we’re covering breaking news. A fire has destroyed a warehouse located near the Newport aquarium. Harper Gains is on site. Harper, can you hear me?”
The reporter adjusts her earpiece. “Yes, I can hear you, Paul.”
“What more can you tell us?”
“Not much more than what I’ve already reported.” She takes a step back and turns slightly as the camera pans the warehouse. “As you can see, the warehouse has collapsed, but we’ve been told that the fire is 80 percent contained. We’ve also been told that a spokesperson for the fire department will be briefing us soon.”
“Harper, can you tell us about the building. Was it occupied? What was it used for?”
“It was originally a cannery, built sometime in the 1950s. Since then, several companies have owned it. The current owner is Waterfront Enterprises. That name might sound familiar to you, Paul. They’ve been buying up old warehouses and such close to the marina and turning them into retail spaces. I was told by their spokesperson that they had planned to begin their renovations on this particular warehouse sometime this next spring.”
“So, it wasn’t occupied by anyone associated with them.”
“That’s correct, Paul. No one associated with Waterfront Enterprises was in the building when the fire started.”
“You said earlier, Harper, that the body they found is thought to have been a vagrant.”
“That’s right, Paul. I was told that it’s not uncommon for people to be living in these abandon buildings near the water.”
“Do we have—”
“I’m going to cut you off, Paul. It looks as if the spokesperson for the Newport fire department is ready to brief us.”
The camera pans to a man in uniform. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. We wanted to update you on the three firefighters who have been injured.”
“Oh my God. What if…?” I can’t finish my sentence because I won’t allow myself to go there.
Mark puts his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sure he’s fine, Bri.”
“Please, God, let Ethan be all right.”
“As I last reported, three firefighters have been hospitalized. One remains in critical condition from injuries and burns sustained when the roof collapsed. Our contact at Newport General has informed us that they cannot make or release a prognosis at this time.”
“Can you give us a name,” a reporter shouts.
“Not at this time. His family has yet to be notified. I can however release the names of the two other firefighters whose injuries are not critical, Joel Weaver and Beth Hilton. They are stable, and it’s expected that they will be released in a few days.”
“Do those names sound familiar to you?” Mark asks.
“No.”
My phone rings. I look at the screen. “It’s Kat.”
“Answer it?”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
He takes it from me and presses Accept. “Kat.” He looks at me. “She’s fine. She just—Oh, thank God. Okay, I’ll tell her.” He disconnects.
I breathe for the first time in what seemed like forever. “He’s okay?”
“Yes, he’s okay.”
“And Gary?”
He nods. “No one on Gary’s crew was injured. All three injured firefighters were from another crew. Lincoln City, Kat said.”
I sit back into the sofa and let relief wash over me.
“He’s okay, Bri. All’s good.”
“I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.”
“You didn’t lose him.”
“My heart—it felt as if it literally stopped pumping blood.”
“Well, girlfriend, I think that’s your answer.”
“My answer?”
“We have a wedding to plan.”
“Do you know how crazy this is?”
“Of course I know.”
“Well, you have your answer now.”
“What answer?”
“You thought you were losing it, having a breakdown. It’s more than clear that you were right. This is insanity.”
“So be it then.”
“So be it? Stop and listen to yourself. You’re the smartest woman I know, and I know a lot of women, smart or otherwise. You don’t think with your heart. You think with your head and your gut. And they have never failed you.”
“Are you talking about me or yourself?” I ask my dad.
“This is not about me. Stop twisting my words to fit your agenda.”
There’s a long pause, and then he says, “If you love him as much as you say you do, you won’t do this. The foundation of your marriage will be built with lies. Lies are always uprooted, and once yours are, your marriage, your life will crumble.”
“I’ve told him as much as I could. I told him I have a past filled with good and not so good. And he doesn’t care, Dad. He loves me, unconditionally.”
“You call what you’ve done ‘not so good’? What you did, what you continue to do, is well beyond ‘not so good.’ And you damn well know that there’s no such thing as unconditional love or unconditional anything. It’s a myth. Everything we are, everything we do has conditions and constraints. You’re the one who told me that. Do you remember when you told me that? Do you even remember the person you use to be?”
“I’m still that person. That’s my biggest mistake, not recognizing that you can pretend to be someone else, give yourself a new identity, but you can’t stop being you. That’s the myth, Dad.”
“I’ve made tons of mistakes.”
“We all have.”
“I’ve never considered you a mistake until right fucking now!”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do mean that. If you do this, I’m out. I no longer exist. And that letter you wanted me to send, forget about it. Your mother would be ashamed of you. And she would never forgive you.”
“I know you’re disappointed. And if you must cut all ties, I understand. I’ve asked more than a daughter has a right to. But don’t you ever tell me that my mother wouldn’t have forgiven me. She forgave you.”
Silence.
“Yeah, I know about the affair. I found letters in Ta—in her apartment. F.G. and Mom had remained friends. They wrote letters to each other for years. She wrote him, telling him about her separation. He must have written her and asked if there was still a chance for him, because in her last letter she told him sorry, but no. She said she’d forgiven you and was still in love with you. That’s why Mom flew across the ocean that night. She was coming home to you. She’d forgiven you.”
“That’s a lie. She was working. Mr. Fe… He was meeting someone in the States. That’s why she was coming back. She was coming back for you, not for me. You killed her.”
“And the truth shall set you free. You do blame me for her death. I knew there was more to it than looking like her, having her eyes—eyes you always told me taunt and haunt.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“You did, and it’s okay. I needed to hear the truth. At least now I know why I was raised by nannies. You couldn’t bear to look at me. I’d killed your one and only.”
More silence.
“You don’t have to send me her letter. Send me yours instead. I’m dead to you, so you’re dead to me,” I say and disconnect.
I stare at the phone
for how long, I’m not sure. I wish and pray he’ll call me back, but he never does.
With a heavy heart, I smash the phone with a rock and dispose of it. Then I walk a mile back down the beach and sit on my log. As I look out at the gray ocean, I pray. I pray that my dad will forgive me and that someday we’ll see each other.
“There you are.”
My smile takes up the lower half of my face. Seeing him makes everything right again.
It has taken a fire, one that took a soul from this earth, and critically injured another, for me to admit the truth. He is my one and only. We are meant to be and can’t stop it, even if we try.
I don’t know how long we have together, or what our future will look like, but I do know that we are connected in a way I don’t understand. But I don’t need to understand it; I just need him.
He kisses me breathless.
When we come up for air, I ask, “What was that for?”
“Does a guy need a reason to kiss the woman he loves?”
“Not if they’re like that.”
He smiles and takes my hand.
We sit, fingers entwined, in comfortable silence as we look out at the ocean.
“You come here a lot and look out at the ocean.”
“I guess I do.”
“Why? What do you hope to find out there?”
“It’s not what I hope to find, it’s what I hope to hear.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you close your eyes and listen real hard, you can hear the ocean whisper.”
“What does it say?”
“Different things to different people. But whatever it says to you, it never lies. It always tells you the truth whether you want to know or not.”
“What is it telling you right now?”
I look at the ocean, close my eyes, and listen. “It’s telling me to…”
“What?”
“Run.” I open my eyes and look into the bottomless blues of the man I love.
“I… Maybe you should.”
“If you’re going to run, Ethan, you need a place to run to. Where am I going to run?”
He looks out at the Pacific and closes his eyes. After a minute, he looks at me. “I don’t hear anything.”
“It takes practice, I guess.”
“If you did have a place to run to, where would you go?”