As she turns out of the parking lot, I watch the large three story building fade from my vision and thank God I’m out of there. I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes. I pay no attention to where she’s taking me. Dahl turns the radio off and we drive in silence. When she gets off at an exit, I open my eyes. We pass so many familiar places in Laguna Beach and a rush of memories from days long gone flood me. This town is our old stomping ground and we spent so much time here. She pulls into the corner coffee shop that I know so well and turns to look at me. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
She hops out of the car and I look around. I love this place. Why did I leave? This is where I belong. When she gets back in it’s with a tray of two coffees. The sun starts to rise as we sit in the parking lot and I tell her everything—everything that I hate in my life, everything I am, and everything that I don’t want to be. I even manage the excruciatingly embarrassing details. And most of all, I apologize. I apologize for the way I treated her when I first came back. I saw she had a new life and that she was happy, I should never have thought I could change that. I had to get it all out—to confess my sins, to cleanse my soul.
By the time we pull into my mother’s driveway I already feel a little more like myself. We get out of the car and she starts toward the old weathered plank bridge. I keep my distance, not wanting her to think anything other than how grateful I am for her help. She stops to wait for me before crossing and when I catch up, she grabs my hand and locks our thumbs, then leads me to the beach. This is the one place we always held hands. Every time we walked over this bridge our hands were connected, since we were five years old. But now, those fond memories are just that—memories. I look at the girl leading me and smile at the woman she has become.
The beach stretches for miles and we sit close to the shore. I throw myself back in the sand and cover my eyes with my arm. “What am I going to do, Dahl?”
She pulls her knees up to her chest and looks over at me. “Ben, it’s okay to grieve, it’s even okay to be a little lost, but you have a life in front of you. I can’t tell you what to do with it, but I hope whatever you decide makes you happy.”
Silence passes between us for a long moment as I think about what she’s said. “Are you happy?”
She stretches her fingers out and looks at her ring. Her face lights up. “Yeah, I am. Really happy.”
“Dahl, I know I’ve fucked up a thousand times. But I am sorry for everything I did. I just need you to know all I ever wanted for you was for you to be happy.”
“I know that now, Ben. I may never understand it. But I get it.”
I sit up and bow my head.
She looks at me. “Ben,” she says softly.
I glance up at her.
“You need to figure out what is going to make you happy.”
“Yeah, happy. Shit, I don’t remember the last time I felt that way.”
Waves crash against the rocks and birds fly overhead squawking. I shift my eyes toward the water and we sit there in silence for the longest time, but it’s not uncomfortable or awkward.
“You know me so I’m going to tell it to you like it is—you need to get your head out of your ass and get on with your life because life’s too short not to.”
I can’t hold back my grin. That’s the girl who was always my friend—the one who told it like she saw it.
A few moments later, I see her shiver. I stand up and wipe the sand from my pants and then extend a hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
She takes it and I pull her up. And as we walk over the old weathered plank bridge, I turn and look back at the refuge I’ve sought so many times in my life and I know it’s where I belong.
Chapter 12
New Beginnings
Memorial Day weekend has always been one for barbeques and hanging out at the beach. That’s just what I plan to do.
My heart races as my hair whips in the wind. I run as fast as I can across the sand, my breathing heavy. I open my mouth wider to get more oxygen in my lungs.
“You got this Uncle Ben,” Trent cheers.
I come to a halt and look into the bright blue sky. Where is it? I shield my eyes from the sun and crane my neck further back. I follow the lead from the plastic in my hand to the string to . . . son of a bitch, there it is—the rainbow-colored diamond bobbing and weaving in the wind at least ten feet above my head. For a moment, I’m entranced. I watch as the kite dances wildly in the wind and beam at my nephew.
“We did it!” I shout.
“You did it,” he responds.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” I gloat.
“Boys, come on. That’s enough playing. It’s time to finish packing up,” Serena calls.
I look at Trent and shrug my shoulders. “Playtime’s over for now.”
“Fuck,” he says.
I tug the string down and the fabric loses its sail, descending immediately. When I’m close enough, I pop Trent in the back of the head.
He rubs it and looks at me questioningly. “What was that for?”
“Don’t swear.”
“Are you kidding me? You swear all the time.”
I grin at him. “Yeah, but that’s me. Not you. And you know how mad it makes your mother.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll try to keep it cleaner around her. I promise,” he responds.
I put an arm around his shoulder and walk with him up the beach toward the house. “Did I ever tell you about the time Grandma put a whole bar of soap in my mouth?”