My heartbeat sped up as I crossed the bridge to Wrightsville Beach. Ryan wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to live by the ocean. This wasn’t a ten-minute drive to the water. He lived on the water in a tiny oceanside apartment. It took me a few minutes to find. His apartment was actually one of several that made up a massive beach house. I imagined his rent was astronomical no matter the size of his home.
The front door faced the ocean, I realized, and despite a stone pathway leading to the entrance, I decided to take off my flip flops and walk in the sand. It was soft and silky, worming its way between my toes. When I got to his front door, I froze. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. I hadn’t seen Ryan in three years, refused to talk to him before his family moved up north. I regretted that decision ever since, but my heart still warred with my mind, refusing to forgive, believing he was a monster, ignoring Lucy’s pleas that he was anything but.
I knocked on the door before I lost my nerve. It didn’t occur to me that he may not be home. It was five in the evening; perhaps he was still at work or in class. I had no idea if he was even attending college. I made Lucy promise to stop giving me updates about him after the first year. She talked to him weekly and tried to slip in information here and there during our conversations. It just became too painful for me, and I told her I didn’t want to know anymore.
I jumped when the door opened. It was a woman. And she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Shiny black hair, dark eyes. Her blue shirt hung off of one shoulder to reveal a thin pink strap. She wore jean cut-offs—very short cut-offs that highlighted thin, tanned legs.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought someone else lived here,” I said.
“Someone else does live here,” she replied with a smirk. “I’m just a visitor.”
“Oh.”
I felt strange—a little lightheaded and ridiculous. I show up after three years, and what? Expect him to be single? To be pining for me? I had a lot of fucking nerve.
I turned to leave.
“Hey, wait!” the woman called. “You looking for Ryan?”
I stopped cold. I didn’t want to tell her “yes.” I didn’t want her telling me that she was his girlfriend now and that I could piss off. But I turned around to face her anyway, head bobbing up and down in a desperate nod. I must have looked on the verge of tears because she closed the door softly and darted my way.
“It’s okay,” she said, wrapping me in a hug.
I had no idea who this chick was, and I’m pretty sure I was supposed to hate her if she was Ryan’s girlfriend, but I was so emotionally exhausted and drained of adrenaline that I didn’t care. I let her hug me as I cried into her shoulder.
“I’m a total lesbian,” she said into my ear. “It’s okay.”
I drew back and wiped awkwardly at my face. “Huh?”
“I’m not Ryan’s girlfriend. I’m Alyssa. One hundred percent gay,” she clarified.
“Okay,” I said. “Why are you telling me this?”
She laughed and grabbed my hand, pulling me down to the beach.
“Oh my God. Are you serious? It’s obvious you’re in love with him and you thought I was his girlfriend,” she said, walking me along the water’s edge.
“Why are we down here?” I asked.
“Because you need to get your shit together,” Alyssa said. “Now breathe deeply and stop crying.”
I didn’t realize I was still crying. But I think my tears transformed from shock and pain to elation. I had never cried tears of joy before. It felt weird, and I didn’t like it.
“Seriously, girl. Straighten the fuck up! You come all the way to see Ryan after how many years? And you’re gonna give him—” She paused, looking me up and down. “—this?”
“How do you—”
“Oh my God, Brooke. Get a clue! You’re all he ever talks about. It’s getting so fucking old, too. You know, the second I opened that door, I knew it was you. He described everything about you, right down to your fucking nose.”
“My nose?” I asked, instinctively touching it.
Alyssa nodded. “Now calm down and wipe your face. Get yourself together before you go back to that door.”
I swiped my fingers underneath my eyes and asked Alyssa if I wiped the runny eyeliner clean. She nodded.
“He still talks about me?” I asked, my voice quavering slightly.
“For three loooong years,” Alyssa replied.
“But he never called,” I said.
“You changed your number.”
“But he never came to see me at school.”
“You transferred schools. Remember?”
How did she know all of this?
“If he really missed me, why didn’t he try to find me?” I asked.
Alyssa sighed patiently. “He did, Brooke. He did find you. And he wanted to make things right. But then he thought he shouldn’t bother you. If you never tried to find him or talk to him, he wanted to respect your space.”
“I was scared,” I said quietly. I felt defensive, like I needed to justify my behavior to this stranger. “Do you know what he did?”
“He told me everything,” Alyssa said.
“How can I still love a person who did that? What does that say about me?” I felt the fresh tears pooling fast inside my eyes.