Written in the Sand

by D. B. James

  “Would you like anything else besides water to drink?” Karen asks. It’s not until she does I notice the carafe and extra glass on the table.

  “No, I’m okay with only the water. Thanks.”

  My eyes take in all the plates before me. Every single one of them is filled with…grilled cheese? There’s eleven plates total. Each toppled over with triangles of grilled cheese, sides of marinara, ranch dressing, and pickles. “Is that melted peanut butter dipping sauce?”

  “Sure is,” she answers. She’s yet to reach for any certain plate and I’m wondering why the fuck there’s eleven plates of grilled cheese instead of one for each of us. She starts laughing, and it’s contagious, which causes me to start laughing. I don’t even know what the hell I’m laughing for.

  “Gloria?” I get out in between bouts of rolling laughter.

  “Yeah?” she counters.

  “Why eleven?”

  “Different cheese combinations on each. There’s exactly eleven options on the menu,” she says while holding out one for me to take and pursue the options I now have spread on the table before me. “I started laughing because of the expression on your face. Man, it was a good one. Made me wish I had my phone out ready to snap a picture when Karen came out with the plates. Especially when Mel came up behind her carrying an extra tray full of them. Maybe I should’ve asked if you were hungry before ordering, but I took a risk and ordered anyway. I figured my kids would eat all the leftovers.”

  Until the mention of kids, I forgot she said something last night about why she started making the flowers. It was for her daughter to be able to go on a class trip.

  “Why flowers?” I ask as I slide a triangle from each plate onto my empty one, deciding to try one of each to see which my favorite one is.

  “Because it was already something I knew how to make. And my daughter had the option to go on this once in a lifetime trip. My family didn’t have the extra money it’d require for her to go, but I didn’t want her to go without. With the help of some extremely special book friends, we brainstormed and came up with the idea of my peddling my flowers to the book community. It took off and spread like wildfire. It’s truly been life altering. Now it’s become a business, more than a hobby to send my daughter on a trip,” she informs me.

  It’s admirable. And she’s doing what she always considered a hobby but is now earning enough to send her daughter on this trip. She’s striving to be more.

  “You’re amazing, Gloria. I barely know you at all and I can see you’re remarkable.”

  “Dammit. Stop with the nice words, you’re making watery things form in my eyes again. It’s strange,” she says.

  With her words, I laugh again. It’s a laugh unlike any I’ve experienced in quite a while.

  Joyous.

  “Try the melted peanut butter, I swear it’s not weird. It’s delicious,” she says while pushing a side dish full of melty goodness my way, breaking my laughter and stopping her tears from falling.

  Over grilled cheese dipped in peanut butter, I find a new forever friend.

  Thank you, Michael.

  After dinner we decided to take a walk together, only for us to be able to spend more time talking. I feel as if I’ve known Gloria for years, not mere hours. Her sense of humor is dry and her love is fierce. She’s who I used to be and am slowly but surely becoming again.

  When I leave her company two hours later, it’s with a full heart, knowing I walked away with a new lifelong friend. We were brought together by tragedy, but life is keeping us linked by friendship.

  I can’t wait to see what new beginnings tomorrow brings.

  I’m in the elevator on the way up to my hotel room when my cell phone rings. Pat Green’s familiar voice fills the empty space as he sings about Austin. Sitting my overnight bag down, I begin to search my purse to answer Case’s call. By the time I find my phone, it’s too late, I’ve missed it and he’s gone to voicemail. May as well wait until I’m in my actual hotel room before calling him back.

  My phone beeps, alerting me to his message as the elevator doors swing open, it’s nearly 10 p.m. and he said he’d call once he was home from work, his last appointment must’ve run over. Then again, can you truly put a time stamp on creating art? Tossing my bag and purse on the bed, I walk over to the windows, shutting the blinds and effectively cutting out New Mexico for the night. I’m tired from my long drive in, dinner, and walk with Gloria but I’m not going to bed anytime soon. My fingers are itching to weave words into a story.

  Grabbing my phone, I slip off my shoes and slide down onto the couch waiting for Case to answer.

  “Mo ghaol, how was your day?” His smooth baritone fills my ears, instantly warming my insides. The ice in my veins melts more and more as each new day flies by.

  “Better now, but it was pretty stellar before,” I say, only slightly teasing.

  “Fill me in first, and I’ll fill you in on my day after,” he suggests.

  I proceed to inform him about meeting Gloria over the next fifteen minutes he barely manages to get a word in about his day, but he doesn’t complain.

  “Wait, peanut butter? I’m disgusted but intrigued at the same time. I’m imagining it tasted similar to those peanut butter filled cheese crackers my parents used to sneak in my lunch as a snack when I was a kid, am I correct?” he asks.

  He’s not wrong. Or at least he’s not far off base, it was similar. But yet not if it makes sense.

  “It depended on which cheese was used. The pepper-jack peanut butter combo was repulsive. However, the regular cheddar peanut butter was spot-on. I may have eaten four pieces of the cheddar one. I’m lucky I’m not lactose intolerant or I’d be in a world of hurt.” Shit, I’m talking about literal shit to my almost boyfriend. Boyfriend? Since when? “What are we to each other?” I blurt out.

  “You’re my best girl,” he answers instantly without hesitation.

  “I mean, more along the lines of, am I your girlfriend? Are we dating? What exactly are we doing?” I inquire because suddenly I need to know.

  “Okay, since I obviously didn’t make it clear enough before you left, I’ll say it again. I’m yours. You’re mine. No one else gets to touch me or vice versa. You’re off finding yourself again and I understand, but once you’re done, you’re coming back to me and we’re building a life together. For what’s left of the remainder of ours. Fuck this having to know each other for months or years shit. I know with my whole soul you’re mine. I wished for you, Tenley. Fate brought you to me. Yes, I’m your boyfriend. Clear enough for you, sweetheart?” he says with force, but not a harsh force, one filled with passion and love.

  “Yep.” The word pops from my stunned lips.

  “Great,” he says as if it settles everything. “Now, this Gloria chick is decent people then?” he asks, officially changing the subject.

  “The best kind. It’s funny how Michael found her. It was from the online book community. Through my favorite author actually. Turns out she’s friends with Gloria, and he happened across one of her flowers through the author’s online presence. He contacted her about making flowers for me. It was before she started her business though. But she agreed to make them and send them to me in the future. Strange huh, how everything is connected and comes back full circle?” I contemplate.

  “No, it’s not strange at all. It was meant to be. He knew you’d need these people in your life. In some strange way, he gifted them to you. He knew you better than you knew yourself. He sent the people along your path at exactly the precise time for you to be open to accepting them. The sly bastard knew what he was doing all along. I have to admit, I’m jealous of his smooth moves,” he says.

  I’ve never thought about it quite the same way. Actually, since finding out about Michael’s sickness and his committing suicide I haven’t thought of anything but the selfish way he left me. I’ve not taken the time to appreciate the small details he set up for me along the way. He wanted me to be happy again, and he was making su
re I found my way back to myself…exactly who I needed to be.

  His untimely death started a whole new chapter of my life. He knew in the bottom of his heart I wouldn’t have been able to handle the blessing he’s sent my way until now. What if he’d slipped up and sent flowers last year? Who knows, I may have burnt them. I’d have cried while doing it, but I wasn’t ready to receive the flowers from Gloria until these last few months.

  “You have nothing to be jealous of, you’re doing fine all by yourself,” I whisper down the line.

  Our time together so far may have been limited, but we’ve used each minute together to the fullest. I’m fairly certain I know all of the important details about Case. The smaller features can be learned whenever. Although, there’s no time like the present, right?

  “Let’s play twenty questions,” I blurt out. Seems I’m good at blurting shit out tonight.

  “Okay, I’m game if you are,” he replies. “Do you want to go first, or shall I?”

  Do I? It was my suggestion after all. A silly one, but it’s a way for us to learn more about each other. I know once I make it home to Alabama and declare I have a boyfriend, mama is going to flip her shit. She’ll do it like a lady, but still. She’s going to overreact and cuss me ten ways to Sunday.

  “Sure, I’ll go first.” Taking a minute to give it thought before asking, I decide I want to know more about who he is now. Not a trivial fact, but a meaty one, one I can sink my teeth into. “How long was your last relationship and why did it end? Before you start complaining, I know it’s technically two questions. I would like answers to both.”

  “Wow, you’re pulling out the big guns, sweetheart. Let’s see. Hmm. My last relationship was with Trina and we broke up a little over a year ago. She didn’t love me or see a future with me. We dated for nearly two years. We were…stuck. The breakup was mutual and I don’t have any ill will toward her. She’s engaged now and lives in Colorado.” He stops and I swear I can hear the gears shifting in his head for a question to ask me. It brings out a smile, one of my genuine ones, those have been coming out more and more lately.

  “I’m going to play fire with fire, mo ghaol. Was Michael your only sexual partner?” Case asks.

  It’s a good thing I decided against taking a sip of my water because I would’ve sprayed it all over me and the couch. “It’s only fair, I guess,” I comment while taking a sip of said water. “Yes, he was. Not for lack of boys trying to get in my pants, mind you. It’s complicated. I did have a boyfriend during high school and I thought he was the one, but his family moved away. Not long after, Michael became my world and the rest is history,” I admit.

  We know how the Michael and Tenley story ends. Abruptly, before either one of us was ready to let go. But now I’m ready to move forward, which is why I’m playing twenty questions over the phone with my new boyfriend.

  “Easy one, favorite color?” I ask.

  “The color of the ocean as the waves dance up to meet the shore. The shade of turquoise your eyes are, with tiny flecks of green and the irises rimmed in a golden brown. It’s the most exquisite shade. I’ve tried to replicate it but have never been lucky enough to get it accurate,” he admits.

  I’m stunned silent. I can feel my once frozen heart suddenly beating a steady rhythm it hasn’t beat for over two years. Thud, thud. Thud, thud. The ice has been obliterated. His words have destroyed the little ice left around my heart. I no longer feel like I’m stuck in this eternal winter. The old thud, crack, thud, of my heartbeat is no more.

  I feel…

  Like me again.

  Like I’m a whole person, not a shell of one who’s lost the part of herself vital to living.

  “Tenley, are you there, sweetheart?” Case’s honey-rich voice comes asking through the connection.

  “Um. Y-yeah. I’m here. Shocked is all. Something remarkable happened. I was gearing up to tell you all about my favorite color—by the way, it wasn’t as beautiful as yours—but your words detonated the ice still left encasing my heart and completely shattered it. And it’s weird but shouldn’t be, because you’ve been slowly saving me these last few months. I know I’ve been making progress on my own, but the moment I let go of my fear of hurting Michael by letting you in, the ice started to break up on its own. The ice in my veins also started melting. I’ve been warm again. This permanent winter is turning into spring.” It’s the only way I can explain it to him, the same way I’ve been explaining it to myself…I was stuck in a frozen wasteland.

  Warm tears are streaming unchecked down my cheeks. I don’t see the point in stopping them, I’ll wipe them clean only for more to join them. But these tears are tears of joy.

  “You did it, Tenley. I’ve barely done anything. I’ve sat by and watched from afar. The few days together made a difference yes, but you did it. You’re healing yourself. I’m fucking proud of you, mo ghaol. When this journey is over, wherever it ends, reach for me. I’ll be there to meet you at the finish line,” he offers.

  I could love this man.

  Where did the thought come from?

  It makes me panic for about five seconds until I realize it’s true, I could love Case. He’s exactly the type of person I’d look for in a partner. Playful, affectionate, honest, strong, tender, generous, loyal. The list could go on, and I’m sure in time it will. The more I learn about him, the longer it’ll become.

  After I’m done on this journey of self-discovery, we’ll have to deal with our whole not living in the same state issue. It would make more sense for me to sell the house and move to where he is since he has a business in Austin. A great thing about being an author is I can live anywhere and still write.

  “Thank you, Case. It means a lot to me to know you care deeply about me. And to know you’re there. But…changing the subject, I was going to write tonight, but instead I’m thinking we should continue our conversation. When’s your next guest spot?”

  Maybe we can keep the rest of the questions light and fluffy.

  “I don’t have one coming up. I’ve been thinking about stopping the guest spots when asked, unless it’s a big opportunity. How the guest spots work is, customers want me to be in a certain city, let’s use Chicago for example. I’d go up there and guest at my buddy’s shop for a couple of months. Booking all the appointments in advance for customers of mine I find online who live in or around Chicago. It keeps the business booming. But it tires me out. It’s a lonely life to live. It saves those customers money by saving them from having to travel to Austin to get art done by me. The way I’ve been thinking about it lately is, if they want a piece done by me badly enough, they can travel for it. I’m tired of it. I’m older now and the novelty of traveling all over has worn off. Besides, what if I want babies someday?”

  Babies? Don’t panic, go with the flow. It’s hypothetical.

  “Yeah, I can see how it’d be hard on your wife, raising children alone while her husband’s gone for months at a time.” Solid answer, he’ll never know you’re freaking out inside.

  “Do you want children?” he asks. Shit.

  “I used to,” I whisper back, my voice at its lowest, I know he has to strain to hear me.

  Babies are a hard subject for me. Michael and I had wanted them, but they were never in the cards for us. Now it’s a great thing they weren’t. My uterus is broken and I’ll never be able to carry a baby full-term, after all of our tries and misses, IVF, you name it, we decided to adopt. Shortly after the decision was made, his headaches started. Now I’m thinking I’d like to foster a couple of children, in addition to adopting down the line. Some older children need guidance, I’d like to offer them some.

  “The happy left your voice, I can hear the sadness creeping in. Children are a sore subject, message received. You never did tell me your favorite color. While you’re telling me it, tell me your favorite musician. Only pick one,” he says.

  “Case! It’s not fair to only pick one. Gah. It’s a hard thing to do. But…I’ll tell you my favorite col
or first. It’s the color of the sun rising in the morning sky. The orange golden color with streaks of pink. It reminds me I’ve lived to greet another day. Now for the musician, I guess it’d be Eric Church. If I had to listen to one artist for the rest of my life, I’d pick Eric. I think. Wait, no, Chris Stapleton. His voice. His guitar playing. His voice. Yes, it requires me mentioning it twice. May I have them both please? You’re evil making me pick one. I pick Eric-Chris-Church-Stapleton. Boom. Mic drop, I’m out.” I make it complete with lame firework noises and hand motions on my end, if he could see me, he’d laugh his ass off. He should know I’m acting like a complete and utter idiot even miles away.

  “Eric Chris sounds like a fucked-up hillbilly name. But who am I to judge? My name’s Case. It’s not short for anything either, I’m plain ol’ Case. For a period back in high school, I contemplated going by my middle name, Dylan. Want to know why?” he muses.

  “Oh, I know why,” I say with confidence.

  “Hmmm, you do huh?” he jests. But I do know why.

  “Yep.” Again the word pops from my lips, like it’s my favorite sound in the world, the popping of the P. “You forget we’re around the same age, went to junior high and high school at the same time. I also happen to know a certain show starring Luke Perry was huge back in the day. Hmmm…what was his character’s name again? Donny? Danny? David? Wait…it was Dylan!” I exclaim.

  From the sound of complete silence on the other end, I know I’m right. He wanted to go by Dylan back then because of 90210. I will admit, Dylan was a badass, but I was more of a Brandon fan. Although there’s something sexy about a bad boy. Dylan was a Porsche driving, class skipping, peach pie eating, bad boy.

  “Hey, Case?” I prod after a couple more seconds of silence.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re hotter than Dylan was. Besides, the name Case is hot as fuck. I’d do you.” May as well tell him the truth. He is my boyfriend and all.