Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“A friend,” he tells her. That’s the bad part.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dallas
“Oi,” I hear coming from somewhere behind me.
Needing to clear my head, I was out of the house and on the water by 6:30 a.m. I haven’t been able to focus on anything lately. It’s a miracle my grades haven’t taken a hit. I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been sitting here straddling my board and staring out into space…thinking about Dora.
I miss her. It’s a constant, excruciating experience with no end in sight. I haven’t caught a single deep breath in two weeks and I don’t know how much longer I can stand it. I can’t let her go and I can’t risk falling any deeper. Which leaves me nowhere.
Quinn paddles up and assumes the same position, bobbing on the water next to me. Sunlight catches the new metal in his nose. Since the season ended he’s added more piercings and tats. It makes me think of Dora’s tattoo…and how many times I’ve had my mouth on it. Everything makes me think of Dora.
“Are you gonna let them all pass you by?”
I don’t respond and we both fall silent as we watch the first rays of light break over the Malibu hills and hit Catalina.
“Any word from Rea?” Quinn says after awhile.
“Nothing.” It’s been four months and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever hear from him again. I know why he had to go, I get it, but a text, a call––anything to let us know he’s alive and okay––would be helpful. “He’s obviously not gonna graduate with us.”
“Yeah,” Quinn grimly returns.
We fall silent again, the time marked by the sun rising higher in a cloudless blue sky. It paints the Pacific in shades of blue and purple.
I never tire of this. The only sight that does a better job of quieting the restlessness pushing against me from the inside out is Dora’s smile. Making my girl happy kills every doubt I’ve ever had about myself.
My girl…
“What’s next for you?”
Glancing sideways, I find Quinn as lost in his own thoughts as I am.
“Working for the family biz.”
“Junior beer king in the making?”
There’s no bite to his dig. Which in itself is unusual. This is the most time we’ve been in each others company without the conversation turning sour.
“Something like that. You?”
“Entry level at CAA. Sports division.”
“Sports agent. Cool.”
“What happened with that fit little bird of yours? I haven’t seen her around.”
“Bird?”
“Hen. Chick.”
“Oh…” Smiling now. “Hen. Yeah, I like it.” But the smile drops shortly after. “We broke up.”
“Why?”
The shrug is involuntary. “Life, I guess…She’s leaving for the East Coast after she graduates next year. She wants to be a vet and grad school is in New York, and I’m going to be working at our plant in Temecula.”
“What a bunch of cock and bull,” he deadpans.
“Come again?”
“I know you like her, so what gives?” He studies me for a beat. “Wait…did she dump you? God, please tell me she dumped you.”
The smile that grows on his face at the mere possibility that I was dumped is downright evil. Which makes me laugh.
“No, she didn’t dump me…” the humor deserts me, “but eventually it all goes that way, doesn’t it? People change their minds. They leave. Life takes over…what’s the point of dragging it out.”
“What a sad little bitch you are. You know what pisses me off most about you, Van Zant?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.” His usual baiting doesn’t work on me anymore. When you’ve lost everything you care about, nothing really gets your goat.
“You have no fucking idea how lucky you are. So you went through some shite. We all have. Get over it. When I was thirteen, one of my mother’s boyfriends caught me jerking off to his rugby magazine and broke my arm in three places––and he was the nice one. You don’t see me crying about it in the mirror.”
It’s a credit to Smith that he could make me chuckle with a story like that.
“I’m not you…I don’t know how you do it.”
He looks off, pensive. “One day at a time, brother. One day at a time. But I’ll tell you something––I stopped expecting the worst to happen.”
Damn, maybe he’s right. Maybe I fucked up this relationship because I was expecting the worst.
People leave, I remind myself. Dogs die. And I’m left to pick up the pieces once again. But the voice isn’t as loud this time.
“An old surfer I know in Venice––homeless guy,” he starts again. On the horizon, another wave builds and neither one of us makes a move to catch it. “I bring him food from time to time, and we chat. He likes to chat and doesn’t have anybody to do that with…When I asked him why he doesn’t get off the streets, he said something that really stuck. He said, ‘Ride the wave you’re given. Make it a great ride. Make it the best ride possible. But don’t try to turn it into something it isn’t. That goes for life and people too.’”