Page 20 of Whispers on the Water

I’m meticulously folding t-shirts, perfectly aligning the Costa Rica logo on each. If only arranging my emotions was as easy, but no, that’s more like trying to put a twin sheet on a king mattress after three glasses of wine.

Despite the soothing ocean breeze wafting through the door, my mind is elsewhere, tangled in the mess from last night with Greg. His aggressive posture towards Tommy... it was unsettling. It’s too reminiscent of Kevin, the way he’d loom over me, controlling, threatening without laying a hand... until he did. And then, it was a cycle of apologies and empty promises. I was too young, too naive to see through it, trapped by his wealth and the expectations surrounding us. My mother’s excitement over our relationship only sealed my fate faster, pushing me towards a marriage I wasn’t ready for.

The plan to make Greg jealous had worked a little too well. I cast a concerned glance over to each of my friends.

Tilly is working behind the clean bar, drying some cups that have just come out of their dishwasher. Steam still lingered in the air from when it had been opened up. Tommy is absentmindedly sweeping the floor. All of us overdid it at the club. After the little excitement with Greg, we spent the night drinking and dancing, though I hardly saw my friends without their arms around each other.

The sight felt right, but the two are back to their old ways, or maybe even worse than before. As far as I’ve seen, they haven’t said a single word to each other. It’s almost as infuriating as my strange game with Greg.

As I slam another shirt down a bit harder than necessary, the memories continue to swirl, darkening my mood. On ‘Sam’s Rage Scale’ I’m far passed my typical ‘politely annoyed’ and almost to the top at ‘throwing kitchen appliances’. If I don’t do something, I’ll end up taking it out on the first idiot that walks through the shop door. Tilly catches my frustration from behind the bar, her concern breaking through my reverie. “You good, Sam?”

“Oh yes, I’m just fucking peachy. Fantastic even,” I snap. Both my friends wince at my terse tone, but I’m already moving to the backroom of the bar.

“Where are you going?” Tilly asks. I’m surprised she was brave enough to say anything.

“I need to clear my head,” I say, already to the back store room.

In tandem, my friends groan. Clearing my head has consisted of one thing over the last few years, and one thing only. Neither Tilly nor Tommy are fans of the habit.

Seconds later, I reemerge, my hair pulled back into a low ponytail and covered in a bandana. Dragging my electrician’s tool kit, I’m determined to fix that stubborn pinball machine.

“Sammy,” Tommy starts in, laughing as he does. “No good can come from you poking around that thing again.”

I whip around, a pair of pliers in hand. With narrowed eyes, I point them at him. “At least when it shocks me, it’s up front about why!”

Though I can see that Tommy wants to laugh, his typical reaction to any of my misplaced anger, he thankfully holds it in, keeping the pliers from being thrown at his forehead. Ignoring his protests, I slide under the pinball machine, my focus sharpened by the Arctic Monkeys thrumming through my earbuds.

The exposed wires from my last attempt are dangling down, and some of the rods have moved to the side. The circuit board has already been replaced twice. Though the second time wasn’t my fault. Who knew you needed to ground a power supply? But the machine is still refusing to accept coins and actually start. Something is shorting out, and I know it must be crossed wires somewhere.

I’m deep into the guts of the machine, soldering away when a gentle tap on my calf pulls me back to reality. Sliding out, I’m greeted by Greg’s face, which surprises me enough to bang my head against the machine. “Ow!” I mutter, yanking out my earbuds. “What’re you doing here?”

Tilly chimes in from across the bar, “Yeah, I’m curious to know as well.”

Greg shifts uncomfortably, “I erm, can we talk? Somewhere alone?” He casts a suspicious glance over his shoulder, where I can see both Tilly and Tommy watching us.

“I’m not going anywhere. You wanna talk? Talk.”

His giant hand works through his hair, and I have to remind myself that his handsomeness doesn’t affect me anymore. “I wanted to apologize for last night,” he says softly.

I can’t help but roll my eyes as I stand. “Obviously.” I start walking towards the surfboards, Greg trailing me like a lost puppy. But I’m not standing around listening to his pathetic attempts to reconcile. I’ve dealt with half-ass apologies before. Kevin’s favorite line, ‘I didn’t want to,’ is repeating in my head.

“Seriously Sam, that’s not me. I wouldn’t have hurt him. I’ve never hit someone. Not even when I was a cop, not even when someone deserved it.”

I ignore him, pulling Ruby from her spot. “You ditched me, remember? We were having a nice time, and you just… ghosted. You don’t get to care who I dance with, especially if it’s Tommy.” I throw a glance at Tommy, who awkwardly waves back, Tilly’s stern face backing him up.

Greg’s jaw tightens, but it looks more desperation than anger. “I... I thought you were done with me!” He stutters, but his tone’s off, ringing false to my ears.

Damn liar. Damn, men. Always damn lying.

“I asked to come home with you!” My frustration boils over into a yell.

Greg buries his face in his hands, groaning. “The date… it just…” He’s shaking his head, and my patience is wearing even thinner.

I watch Greg struggle to find the word for another two seconds. “It what?” I press, my curiosity piqued despite the uneasy twist in my stomach.

“It scared me!” he confesses, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“Dating me scares you?” I can’t hide my incredulity. Considering my own turbulent past, I would have thought I’d be the one wary of dating, yet here he is, visibly shaken by the concept. He nods and I fling my hands over my head. “Well join the fucking club. We have jackets and patches for every time we make fools of ourselves. Oh look at that, you’d probably already be our Troop Dad.”

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