Page 9 of Chasing Lynda

There are outside showers on the beach and I guess those will have to do but that means that I’ll have to keep something on because I can’t shower naked on a crowded beach.

I hate what I’m about to do but I go through the beach bag that’s lying on the floor, under the wooden bench.

I smile when I find a dark red bikini, a pair of flip flops and denim cut-offs in the bag. There’s also a smaller canvas bag inside with some books. I don’t want to take the beach bag because it looks expensive and I can’t risk having the owner recognize it on the beach; so I empty the books into the beach bag and take the canvas bag. It looks plain enough with the Pleasure Beach logo.

I change into the bikini as quickly as I can and I put on the flip flops, glad that I can save my worn, hole ridden converse shoes for when the weather will be colder.

I take the towel I used as a blanket too, so I can dry myself off once I’m showered.

There’s also a plain, pink t-shirt that I hope the owner of the beach bag won’t miss and I can’t believe my luck when I find a small designer shower caddy full of miniature sized toiletries. They’re all freebies from the Pleasure Beach Hotel, so I don’t feel too bad taking them. I do leave the caddy though, because again, it looks expensive and I’m not a thief.

Ok, fuck.

I guess I am a thief, looking back at how this isn’t the first time I’m taking someone else’s stuff without the owner’s permission. However, it isn’t like I want to steal. I just have no other choice if I want to survive.

I get out of the cabana, cautious that no one sees me coming out of here. Luckily it’s in the last row, further away from the water, so there aren’t as many people around.

I enter the beach public bathrooms and go use the toilet, relieved that these facilities look spotless. In the past year I’ve had much worse, I think shuddering at the memory of a particular service station somewhere between Shell Cove and Bridgeport.

After doing my business, I walk to the sinks, washing my hands and using my finger and the miniature whitening toothpaste to brush my teeth. There was a toothbrush in the caddy but it wasn’t brand new and I know I’ve hit rock bottom but I really can’t bring myself to use someone else’s toothbrush.

Already feeling better with mintier breath, I walk outside to the outdoor showers that the resort guests use to avoid trailing sand everywhere.

The water is as cold as expected but it’s a relief to wash my hair and my body even if I have to keep the bikini on.

The shower gel smells fresh and fruity and I make sure to spare some for tomorrow. It would be great to grab some more of these toiletries from the hotel, but I have to be extremely careful not to get on the radar of the security that patrols the entire resort.

Feeling more human now that I’m clean and sure that the warm end of May sunshine will finish drying what the towel won’t, I wonder what to do with my day.

I’m starving but I only have two dollars on me and spending any money is the absolutely last resort since I can’t get a job.

I sigh, feeling a familiar pang of bitterness twist my stomach into a painful knot. It’s certainly the thought of Aaron but I can’t fool myself, it’s also that I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. The couple of chips I managed to eat on the beach, before those guys turned from friendly to rape-y, really don’t qualify as a meal.

I walk on the boardwalk toward the resort’s amenities, smelling baked goods in the air and entering one of the old style arcades. I make the rounds of the slots, relieved that right now there’s only a couple of pensioners playing the ones on the front rows. Sometimes people leave money in the machines. It’s mostly a few cents here and there but you’d be surprised how quickly you can get a couple of dollars.

“Aww.” I groan, disappointed when my search proves fruitless. I really should avoid spending the little money I have on me. Maybe I can go check out the big grocery store a couple of miles from the resort later on. If I go at the right time, I can get my hands on the unsold items from the bakery. I can’t believe that they throw that stuff away at closing time.

I turn on my heels, debating if I can last until tonight when I freeze in shock at the sight of my own face staring at me from one of the “missing person” posters that are present everywhere in the area.

I look around, making sure that no one’s watching and tear the flyer off the slot machine it was attached to.

I make sure to shred it before tossing it in the trash can right next to the arcade’s door.

The sun outside is bright and I have to close my eyes as I exit the arcade, willing my racing heart to slow down. Aaron hasn’t stopped looking for me and I wonder if he ever will.

I’ve wondered more than once why he reported me as a missing person and didn’t have the cops looking for me in connection to Harold’s murder.

The conclusion I came to is that he’s keeping that as a last resort if he can’t flush me out with other methods.

I wish he had called the cops and had handed me to the authorities, because the fact that he hasn’t only tells me that he still wants me as his wife.

My hunch is confirmed by the fact that Harold’s death was all over the media but it was considered an accident. I don’t even know how Aaron managed to cover it all up.

Of course the sheriff must’ve had a hand in that, he was one of Harold’s inner circle.

My “husband” has been looking for me constantly and relentlessly. There were appeals on TV and on all social media and cops looking for me everywhere around Shell Cove for months. I knew I had to leave town if I didn’t want to be found but where could I go?

I’d be stopped immediately if I tried to board a flight and I had a few real close calls when I used a bus to go from Shell Cove to Azure Bay.

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