Chasing the Tide

by A. Meredith Walters

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Flynn didn’t say anything. He didn’t acknowledge that he heard me at all. But his hands paused for a second before continuing his task.

  I sat down on the other side of the table and waited for him to look at me. We sat in complete silence for another twenty minute until he put the sculpture to the side, once the pieces were all glued back together.

  “Are you going to talk to me?” I asked.

  “Do you want some coffee? I’m going to make some,” Flynn said, getting to his feet.

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” I replied, watching him disappear into the kitchen. I absently scratched Murphy’s head, feeling completely wretched.

  Flynn came back a few minutes later with my cup of coffee, just how I liked it.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the mug from him.

  Flynn resumed his seat at the table and opened up a container of clay, pulling out a lump and flattening it in front of him.

  My frustration mounted. “We need to talk about what happened last night, Flynn,” I said sharply.

  Flynn rolled the clay between his palms. “Why?” he asked and I wanted to throttle him.

  “Because we had a fight! We need to talk about it! We can’t just pretend that it didn’t happen,” I fumed. Flynn smacked the wet clay on the worktop with a slap and looked up at me…finally.

  “You upset me last night, Ellie. You made me really, really mad. And you hurt my feelings. You broke my sculpture and my mom’s glass shoe. She loved that glass shoe. I tried to glue it back together but there are pieces missing. I can’t find them.”

  He pushed the reconstructed figurine towards me. “Look at it! It’s different now. It won’t ever be the same. Because you broke it. You threw it against a wall because you were mad. I don’t know why you were mad at me. I was the one who was mad. You didn’t call me. You came home drunk. I should have been mad. Not you,” he stated as though the subject were closed.

  “I was wrong, I understand that. But you’re kind of frustrating sometimes, Flynn,” I argued, knowing that I sounded incredibly immature.

  Flynn’s brows scrunched together. “I’m frustrating? I wasn’t drunk. You were.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “I know that. But you think I’m just supposed to wait here for you to come home? That every single day of our lives is supposed to be the same? Because I can’t live like that, Flynn! I just can’t!” My voice started to rise and Flynn’s face began to flush red. He buried his fingers in the clay and balled up his fists.

  “You live with me. We’re supposed to be together in the evenings. I know when you get a job that will change. But I like having dinner with you. I thought you liked it too!” He was getting upset again. This was heading towards dangerous territory.

  His mention of my lack of job fueled the blaze. “I do like having dinner with you, Flynn! But not every goddamned fucking night!” I declared.

  “I hate it when you cuss,” Flynn muttered.

  “And I hate it when you’re completely inflexible!” I fired back.

  “I’m trying not to be!” he stated, rolling the clay into a ball. His movements fluid.

  I sighed, knowing we were getting nowhere. I was feeling overwhelmed. My head hurt and the last thing I wanted was to get into another screaming argument that ended with Flynn throwing things and me feeling like a total asshole for provoking him.

  I was starting to feel…trapped.

  “I’m going to New York,” I said suddenly.

  Flynn nodded. “I know. We’re planning the trip,” he said.

  I braced myself and then continued. “No, I’m going to New York by myself.”

  Flynn looked confused and bewildered. “No, Ellie, we’re going together. We talked to Leonard about it, remember?”

  “I know that was the original plan, but I think…” I took a deep breath. “I think I need to go by myself. I need a break. I need to think about some things and get my head on straight.”

  Flynn dropped the clay on the table with an audible thud. “You don’t want me to go with you,” he surmised, his voice now flat and unemotional.

  “I just think it would be best if I went on my own. I know you don’t really want to go anyway,” I said quietly, not meeting his eyes. I stared at his fingers, still molding the clay. I could see the tension in his wrists and it hurt my heart to know that it was because of me.

  But all I was doing was hurting him.

  Since coming back to Wellston I had been trying to build a life that just didn’t seem to be going anywhere. And my unhappiness was affecting Flynn. He was trying…but maybe he shouldn’t. Perhaps the best thing I could do would be to let him live the life he had created without me in it.

  But the thought of that was like a knife to the gut.

  “You’re going to New York,” he repeated, as though needing the confirmation.

  “I’m going to New York,” I said.

  We were quiet, letting the words hang in the air.

  “Will you come back?” he asked.

  I winced at his question. But I had to answer him truthfully. He deserved no less.

  “I don’t know.”

  **

  I left for New York the following morning.

  Our last evening together was stilted and uncomfortable. Flynn barely spoke to me and I knew that I had wounded him deeply by choosing to take this trip on my own.

  I almost changed my mind at least a dozen times. Because when Flynn hurt, I hurt.

  But I was in a tailspin that I didn’t know how to get out of.

  I just needed some distance to put things in perspective.

  I needed to be reminded that there was an Ellie outside of Wellston. That I had been that girl for three years. Because I felt as though I was losing the girl who had been independent and competent. Full of hope and belief in a better future for herself.

  I put my small bag in the back of my car. I stood there with my keys in my hand, staring up at the house that had always been my sanctuary. With my mind in such a bad place, it no longer felt that way. It felt like a prison.

  Flynn hadn’t come out with me. He had stayed in the house. I could see Murphy through the window.

  I had told Flynn I wasn’t sure I was coming back but could I bear not seeing this house again?

  How could I ever live with losing Flynn?

  I didn’t know anything anymore.

  I had started to get in my car when Flynn appeared in the doorway, his hands jammed firmly in his pockets.

  “Goodbye,” he called out.

  My chest constricted painfully at his words. “You know, sometimes goodbye is just see ya later. So let’s say that instead,” I said, with a hint of smile. A smile he didn’t return.

  He stared at me for a time and then turned around and headed back into the house. No more words.

  Why did this feel so final?

  Why did it feel like an end?

  I didn’t linger. I got in my car and left before the tears could fall.

  I had called Nadine and told her I was coming for the weekend…by myself.

  “Potato chips,” I whispered when she answered the phone, not able to say anything more than that.

  “Shit. You’re using the safe word. I don’t have any cavalry, Ellie! Crap, where am I going to get some cavalry?”

  “No cavalry, Nadine, I just need to get away.”

  “By yourself?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered tiredly

  She didn’t grill me for more but I knew I wasn’t off the hook. She would want to know exactly what had happened. I wasn’t sure I could explain it myself.

  Driving up through New York City made it impossible for me to dwell too much on my problems. After almost getting t-boned twice and nearly sideswiped a half dozen times, I was lucky I still had my own hair by the time I parked my car outside of Nadine’s walk up in a quaint neighborhood in Queens.

  Her apartment building was loud. Music and laughter, voices
and conversation echoed through the walls.

  Nadine lived on the fifth floor and my legs were burning by the time I reached her floor, since the elevator was out of commission.

  “Ellie!” Nadine shrieked after I knocked on the door. She gave me a quick hug before pulling me into her apartment. I dropped my bag on the floor.

  “Bathroom,” I said, feeling as though my bladder was about to burst.

  “That way.” Nadine pointed to a door just off the small living area. I all but ran towards it. The bathroom was tiny, even by my standards. The shower stall (no bathtub), toilet, and sink were crammed into a space the size of Flynn’s closet. I banged my elbow on the wall when I bent over to pull my pants back up.

  I walked back out into the living room and Nadine handed me a beer. “I’m so glad you’re here!” She grinned and tapped my bottle with hers.

  “Thanks,” I said, though I didn’t sound very convincing. Now that I was here and my bladder was thankfully empty, I thought miserably about how I had left.

  The look on Flynn’s face when he walked back into the house.

  Our argument.

  The horrible feeling that things were changing.

  “Let me give you the grand tour,” Nadine said, snapping me back to the present. She looped her arm with mine and tugged me toward the window on the far wall. “This is my window that overlooks the Deli and Grocery.” She turned me around to face her living space, which was, like the bathroom, ridiculously tiny. “This is the living room slash kitchen.”

  “Where’s the kitchen?” I asked, looking around.

  Nadine pulled me across the room and stopped in front of a tiny stove and mini fridge. A small length of counter top stretched along the wall. There was no separation between the kitchen and the rest of the room. Nadine had put a café style table and chairs in the corner to delineate the “eating” area.

  “Check out the flat screen,” she enthused, pointing to the TV attached to the wall. I cocked my head to the side.

  “Is it crooked?”

  “Yeah, my neighbor Tommy hung it for me. I just figured guys would know how to do that stuff. I was wrong. But it’s bolted in there with heavy-duty screws so it’s not going anywhere without use of a jackhammer,” she huffed.

  “I guess you can just watch TV with your head to the side,” I suggested, snickering.

  “Shut up, Ells,” Nadine laughed and led me to the only other door in the place.

  “And this is my room,” she said with a flourish. Her bedroom consisted of a twin-sized bed shoved under the window, a bookshelf made of plastic egg crates and a garment rack for her clothes.

  “Wow, Nadine, it’s…uh…”

  “Small. Cramped. The size of a fucking shoe?”

  I chuckled. “I was going to say functional.”

  “Yeah, well for $1500 a month, it should be.”

  I almost swallowed on my tongue. “$1500 a month? For this?” I gasped, looking around, wondering if the faucets were plated in gold and I had missed it

  “Ellie, babe, that’s cheap for New York. I was lucky to get this place. The other apartments in the building go for $1900 for a one bedroom. But they’re in a lot better condition.” She pointed to the cracked and peeling ceiling and the obvious mold in the corners.

  “But who cares about the apartment! It’s the city that matters. This neighborhood is great! Over there at that bar, they have live music every weekend. The Pixies used to play there back in the day! The restaurant next door has the best Serbian food in New York. The vintage record store on the next block has Radiohead and Tom Waits bootlegs. There’s this clothing store on Gates Avenue that sells couture knockoffs that look so much like the real thing that the designers don’t even know they’re fake!” Nadine rambled until she lost her breath.

  “Well, damn, who doesn’t want to eat great Serbian food and jam out to Tom Waits bootlegs?” I asked wryly.

  Nadine smacked my arm. “You’ll see. Mock all you want, but this place is amazing,” she stated.

  I sat down on the couch and Nadine joined me. I wanted to share her enthusiasm. I wanted to be excited to be here. Isn’t this what I claimed to need? A chance to see what else was out there?

  So why couldn’t I think about anything but a heart I left in West Virginia? Damn, that sounded like a country song.

  “So you want to tell me why you’re here? Not that I’m not thrilled to have you here, but it’s strange that you showed up without Flynn. Did he not want to come?”

  I ran my hands down my face, exhaustion hitting me hard. “No, he planned to come. But then we got into a fight and I just needed to get away.”

  Nadine looked concerned. “You got in a fight? What about?”

  I shook my head and gave her a forced smile. “I really don’t want to talk about it. Why don’t I get cleaned up and you can show off this city you’re always bragging about.”

  Nadine clearly didn’t like the change of subject but she agreed. “Okay, we can just wonder around here today. Tomorrow I’ll take you into Manhattan. Oh! There’s this great pub we can go to tonight. They serve authentic English pub food. Their fish and chips are amazing!”

  “Sounds great. Do you mind if I get a shower? I need to rinse off the travel funk,” I asked, grabbing clothes out of my bag.

  “Sure. Go ahead. I’ve got to tell you though, the hot water only lasts five minutes so you’ve got to make it quick,” Nadine warned.

  “Five minutes. Got it.” I pulled out my cell phone to see there were no missed calls or texts. Not that I expected Flynn to do either. I needed to let him know I was here. Even though we were fighting, I knew that he’d be calculating the time on my trip, counting miles traveled and when I should have arrived.

  I’m at Nadine’s. Made it here in one piece. It’s loud and kind of awesome.

  I texted.

  I stared down at my phone and finally his answering text came in.

  Okay.

  I tried not to be disappointed. Flynn didn’t do long texts. But this felt different. He was upset. I could feel it from here.

  I love you. I texted back. No matter how messed up I was in the head right now, he still needed to know that. Because that was one thing that hadn’t changed, even if I felt I had.

  I know.

  His simple reply did little to reassure me.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  -Ellie-

  I woke up from the dream, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest.

  My apartment was quiet. The room still dark.

  I tried to close my eyes and will myself back to sleep but I couldn’t.

  My mind turning over the images of my dream, mulling them over obsessively.

  I ran my hand down my face, wincing as my fingers made contact with the sore spot on my cheek.

  I was arrested two days ago for criminal damage. The cop had been less than gentle when he had cuffed me and slammed me down on the hood of the police cruiser. My face had collided with the hood of the car, resulting in a nasty bruise.

  Dania had screeched and screamed about police brutality when she had come to pick me up from the precinct after posting my bail.

  I had done a lot of stupid things over the years. This was just the last in a long line of poor decisions.

  I rolled over onto my side and stared out into the murky shadows.

  I hadn’t thought of him for a long time. I had purposefully evicted him from my mind and my hardened heart.

  So why was it that my subconscious mind found its way back to him now?

  I swung my legs over the side of my bed and sat up, turning on the bedside lamp.

  I picked up the tiny Parthenon that I had bought on a whim.

  It was pretty and detailed and I liked how it fit in the palm of my hand.

  Since receiving it I had thought about him more than I was comfortable with. Maybe it reminded me of watching him draw in his notebooks for hours.

  Whatever the reason, I was here, wide-awake. And it was all his
fault.

  Because I had dreamt of Flynn.

  The harder I tried to remember, the quicker the images faded. Glimpses of his face. Memories of touching his hand and his soft, shy smiles.

  The recollections of fluttery warmth in my belly whenever we were together.

  He always came back to me when I least expected it.

  When I had convinced my head and my heart to never think…to never feel anything for him again.

  But he was there. Wedged deep. Unmoving.

  In the silence of the early morning, I let myself feel something that wasn’t hatred and rage.

  It was something quieter. Something dangerous.

  And it was only, ever for him.

  But I squashed it under the heaviness of bitter resentment and it washed away the good. The warmth.

  It was like it was never there.

  **

  “I’m stuffed!” Nadine groaned, patting her belly. I tried to finish my dinner without hurling my fork at the guys sitting at the table beside us who had been checking us out since we arrived.

  Nadine had insisted on getting dolled up. I hadn’t brought much in the way of clothing, so she lent me a low cut, black shirt, which I paired with my dark skinny jeans and black boots.

  I felt more than a little uncomfortable and had spent most of the evening pulling the neck of my shirt up over my boobs. Nadine wasn’t quite as well endowed as I was in that department.

  As bummed as I had been when I arrived, I enjoyed exploring her neighborhood. It was vibrant and exciting. There was a lot going on and it was hard to find a quiet place. Even the coffee shops and record stores had a vibe that was full of energy. I could see why Nadine enjoyed living there.

  Even if she was apparently living off Raman and using single ply toilet paper.

  “It’s totally worth it, Ells!” she had claimed and I could tell she meant it.

  I handed the waitress my empty plate and ordered another whiskey sour. I kept checking my phone as though Flynn would magically develop less of an aversion to texting and message me. But there was nothing but radio silence.

  I tried not to obsess about Flynn and how he was feeling. The whole point of this trip was I needed distance. I needed to sort through this gnawing doubt that refused to go away. Doubt that seemed compounded the longer I lived in Wellston.