It felt as if I was blossoming.
Parker and I have had experiences and exposures in life which mirror one another. Considering this one aspect of him alone, it would stand to reason he would understand how and why I feel a particular way more accurately than any other person who doesn’t have the experience or exposure he has.
As time passes he’ll eventually become who he truly is. If it so happens and he is who he appears to be, I could spend a lifetime enjoying our time together. If he eventually materializes as a different person, and his true self emerges in contrast to what I believe him to be, I’ll be forced to make a decision. For now, my decision is to give him the benefit of the doubt. Based on how he makes me feel, I’d be a fool to do otherwise.
And a fool I am not.
“It’s like magic. Magical. Whatever. I love it,” I slowed my pace of walking slightly and inhaled deeply.
“I think part of it is the smell,” Parker said, his arm trailing behind him with my hand still in his.
“I agree. I have always loved the smell. It’s soothing. Sometimes a really shitty day for me is turned into a peaceful night if I get a whiff before I go to bed,” I smiled and took a long step to attempt to catch up to him.
The smell of the beach was peaceful to me. It was almost as if it cleansed me as I breathed it in. Although I lived in a coastal city, it was not always easy for me to find the time to make it to the beach. I’ve often wished I could just plop a home down in the sand and stay there forever, going to sleep and waking with the scent and the sounds it brings. As we walked along the edge of where the ocean meets the sand, I pressed my toes into the sand with each step, leaving my best impression of our existence.
My mark.
Victoria’s beach, stay away.
As he lightly held my hand in his, he turned and smiled. I looked down at his pants, which were cuffed to mid-calf. He looked cute. Knowing his dress shoes were in trunk of his car – because they wouldn’t fit in his blazer pocket – made him just a little bit cuter. He didn’t need much help in the looks department. His facial expression was generally one of someone in the middle of a business negotiation, but he was beyond handsome. His brown hair was always perfectly cut, as if it were trimmed daily. He kept it short on the sides, close to the length of the Marines stationed along the coast. The top was long enough to fall into his face if he’d allow it to.
But he didn’t.
His eyes were brown, but not brown like mine. My eyes are primarily brown, but have little flakes of green in them. Parker’s eyes were brown as if someone had painted them with brown paint. I hated to stare at them, but something about them was the same as Parker himself – different.
“Personally, I enjoy the sound. You know, when there’s not a tremendous amount of people here. When it’s quiet. The sound of the waves against the beach, it’s almost hypnotic,” he lightly squeezed my hand as he spoke.
I turned toward him and smiled without speaking. Walking along the beach on a summer night while holding the hand of a member of the opposite sex wasn’t on my list of to-do’s when the summer started, but now it was a reality. I must admit I could get used to this without much effort.
On the east coast, facing the horizon and staring out into the ocean, the sun rises from the ocean every morning. On the west coast it sets into the water at night. I’ve never decided which would be best to witness, but for now at least I was stuck with the sunsets.
Parker and I had walked along the beach for a mile or so, turned around, and were walking back toward where we began. Together, we were able to witness the sunset along the beach, and now it was slowly getting dark.
“I could get lost in watching your face express your moods. Your face changes as you walk, think, and probably smell the things you enjoy,” Parker said softly.
I tilted my head and considered making a smart-assed comment, but chose to smile instead. Pushing him away would be natural for me, but I wanted to enjoy this as long as I could. As I stood and smiled, I realized we had stopped walking. I glanced to my left and noticed we had walked back to where we started – our cars parked in the parking area above the edge of the beach was a reminder that this night was over.
It was time for me to go back to the reality of my house filled with the noise of a blaring television and my narcotics induced semi-comatose mother.
“I like looking at your face, too,” I breathed, “you’re pretty.”
“Pretty?” he asked.
I turned and looked behind me, hoping to see the impressions we had left in the sand – proof of our existence along the beach – confirmation this night had actually happened just as I believed it did. The beach was void of our footprints. The waves had washed them all away, leaving nothing but smooth sand where we had walked. The only hint we had been here would be the memory I would carry with me and the impression we were leaving now.
“Yes, pretty,” I responded as I twisted my feet into the wet sand.
“Thank you,” he said as he smiled and tugged my hand lightly; reminding me our time together was in fact coming to an end. I wanted to resist, allowing the night to go on forever. As we walked up the beach I pressed my feet into the sand firmly, leaving an impression deep enough to last a lifetime.
And I did not look back.
PARKER. I’ve never had expectation of doing anything with my life but obtaining the current goal I have placed in front of me. Eventually, I always set another objective and proceed with a new venture. I have consistently set realistic targets, achieved them, and moved on to my newest aspirations. My life invariably has advanced one goal at a time. Striving to obtain them gives me reason to live life.
I have often wondered what – if any – satisfaction is obtained by a person who has few or no goals in life, and proceeds through the course of a day by purely existing. Allowing life to merely happen and accepting whatever may land in your lap has never made a tremendous amount of sense to me.
My life so far has been a series of small pieces which will eventually come together to make larger pieces. I have always assumed the large pieces, over time, would assemble to make a whole. A completed puzzle. The puzzle of life solved one small piece at a time.
Victoria and I had been seeing each other for short periods of time as they became available to her for almost a month. I cherished the time we spent together, and had come to look forward to it more than I would have ever guessed. It was as if I needed to see her to feel accomplished. In her absence, my only concern was when would be our next available opportunity to meet. All of our time together had been a result of us meeting, and not necessarily a date. The fact that we had not been on an actual date yet allowed me to justify not having introduced her to Kenton.
It was as if I felt a need to shelter her from him and him from her. In my mind, to allow her to meet Kenton would be confirmation she was in fact the product of some type of experiment, some test, some game I had played, and she the poor pawn. In my eyes, at least right now, she was not a part of my employment or the contract in any way, shape or form.
Sitting outside on two benches opposite each other, we had been eating frozen yogurt and talking. Today, as time passed, I became more and more satisfied simply sitting, feeling the sun’s warmth against my body, and witnessing Victoria do – without effort – what she did best.
Satisfy me.
“For the first time in my life, I am not concerned with an achievement,” I scooped the small plastic spoon around the edge of the container, hoping for one more taste of the Vanilla frozen yogurt.
“Explain,” Victoria muttered as she spooned another huge wad of yogurt into her mouth.
“Well, I have lived my life by setting and achieving one little goal at a time, and that goal was my only focus until it was completed. Unless I could check it off the list, I had nothing else I focused on. I’ve always had a target in front of me, and it’s my only focus. Right now, I don’t necessarily have one, and I don’t care,” I shrugged.
&n
bsp; I tipped the cardboard container to my mouth and tapped my fingers against the bottom. It was without a doubt empty. Frustrated, I placed it on the bench beside me and inspected my fingers for residue.
“We all set goals. It’s natural. Want some of mine?” she asked as she extended her hand toward my face, the small plastic spoon overloaded with coconut covered yogurt.
I grinned and opened my mouth. Victoria was a different type of person than I had ever been exposed to. Not that I necessarily led a sheltered life, but I had never been much of a social butterfly either. As she spooned the yogurt into my mouth, she giggled. Seeing her smile was far more satisfying to me than I would have ever imagined. It was if I had some vested interest in her happiness. Seeing her smile and sharing something as simple as frozen yogurt with her actually provided me with a form of satisfaction unlike any other.
“It’s just that,” I paused and contemplated my thoughts as I swallowed the yogurt.
“Well, I don’t know that I can even come close to describing it,” I hesitated and looked down at her shoes.
“I grew up with my grandmother as my best friend. Everything I needed was obtained through her. Every ounce of praise, pat of reassurance, and feeling of satisfaction I received was a result of my exposure to her. I didn’t receive nor did I ever attempt to receive it through others. I completed high school, and went on to attend and graduate from college. My completed education was my goal. I obtained it. My next goal was employment. I achieved that one as well. Now, although employed, I don’t necessarily have a goal, short or long term. Oddly enough, I don’t know that I want one. Now, right now, it’s as if something changed in me. I’m happy just being. Simply existing satisfies me as long as you’re part of the existing,” as the words escaped my mouth, I felt as if someone else was speaking through me.
I looked up and opened my arms as if embracing the entire outdoor seating area. The thoughts and feelings I possessed were new to me, and I had not yet spoken with anyone regarding how I felt. Simply stating my thoughts and what I was feeling caused me to come to believe my life may be changing before my very eyes.
“Wow. Huh. Interesting,” she paused and raised the plastic spoon to her lips and bit against it.
“Well, you’ve always lived a structured life and now you feel like you can let loose and become whoever it is that you’re supposed to become. I think we’re all who we are at birth, and it’s just a matter of time before we emerge our true selves. Sometimes it takes longer for it to happen. Maybe, for some of us, it takes an event or some happening to open our eyes to who we truly are. Oh shit. Oh shit,” her voice elevated as she pressed her hands against her thighs.
“The fuckin’ salami. It was the when you choked on the salami sandwich,” she shouted and stood from the bench.
“What?” I stood up as she rose from her seat.
“Last month, when you choked on the sandwich and I saved you,” she laughed, “it was some form of spiritual awakening.”
A spiritual awakening, as Kenton had described. He had described the event in the restaurant with Downes and the mother of the fatherless child as a spiritual awakening. By his own admission, it changed him from being a self-centered asshole into who he is today. Victoria could be right – perhaps it was the salami incident and my almost dying from choking on the sandwich. Maybe it was enough of a scare that it caused me to take a step back and look at my life’s accomplishments as nothing more than life itself. Quite possibly I have lived my life void of any resemblance of true emotion. Or, the presence of Victoria in my life caused me to realize I needed someone more than I had previously thought.
Maybe the path of our life is predestined at birth, as Victoria believes, and I’m simply finding myself. I suppose I could be determining who and what it is that I am to finally become. In a sense, I’m finding myself.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was the salami, I don’t know,” I hesitated, looked down at my shoes, and attempted to mentally formulate the remainder of my response.
I truly felt confused.
“It was,” she said solemnly.
I considered what I wished to say, and shook my head to clear my thoughts. After a brief moment, I attempted once again to speak my mind.
“I’m not sure identifying what got me to this point is even important. Recognizing the changes in me, embracing them, and allowing – or I guess accepting them is what’s important. Earlier I kind of fumbled around with what I really was trying to say. Ultimately, what I wanted to say was that I love spending time with you. Sharing things with you makes me smile. So thank you. And let’s not stop this anytime soon,” as I looked up and into her eyes she smiled.
“I think we’re both seeing changes in ourselves. I know I have. I’ve always hated the thought of spending time with a man. Men suck. They’re all after one thing and one thing only. After they get it, they move on to trying it with someone else. I haven’t got time for their bullshit. And then along came you. Dressed in your little dress shoes, with your perfectly manicured nails – yeah, I noticed,” she paused and pointed toward my hands.
“And your blazer over your designer tee shirt. You interested me Parker,” she turned and tossed her empty yogurt container in the trash.
“But there’s so much more to you, Parker Bale, so much more. The more I get to know you, the more I grow to love who you are. So far, there’s really nothing wrong with you that I can see. You’re polite, kind, and you always say the right things. Sometimes you’re rather wordy with your explanations, but I think I have your grandmother to thank for that, and it’s part of what makes you you. And, what else did you say?” she slowly raised one eyebrow and stared into my eyes.
“Let’s not stop this anytime soon? Yeah, right. You’re never going to get rid of me. Never. Because this?” she waved her hand in a circle as she pointed down toward the sidewalk.
“This is only the beginning,” she smiled.
VICTORIA. I had come to cherish my time with Parker more than I ever dreamed possible. I now not only yearned to spend time with him, I felt it was necessary to survive. I didn’t like feeling as if I needed someone – in fact, it left me rather uncomfortable. I don’t think I’ll soon share my feelings with Parker, because my emotions and desires may be advancing far more rapidly than his.
For now, I’ll sit and hope this never changes.
His absence causes me to question his existence as well as his devotion or interest. I often feel I should send him a simple text message just to have him respond – anything to prove he is still somewhat interested in me. Everything he does indicates his interest in me is consistent, but for some reason I want proof. I have a difficult time believing he’ll maintain this level of enthusiasm considering my position on premarital sex. He claims to possess the same moral standard I do regarding sex, but I find it difficult to actually believe him. For now, I don’t want to believe him, I must believe him. It allows me to hold onto this feeling that fills me every night as I lay in bed. I have fallen in love with Parker Bale.
And I am scared to death.
“It’s green, you dumb bitch, go already!” I screamed out the window of the car.
Either my screaming or the fact she finally emerged from the fog she was living in caused her to look up, realize the light was green, and accelerate. I pressed the clutch pedal, shifted my car into first, and mashed the gas pedal to the floor. As I carefully released the clutch, the car began to lurch forward.
And the light turned red.
Fuck.
I pressed the clutch and allowed the car to roll back into place behind the intersection. I’m going to be late. I squeezed the steering wheel in my hand and turned my wrist. A quick glance at my watch revealed ten minutes time before I was to meet Parker for lunch. I only had to go two more blocks, but for some reason I was having a difficult time.
It was one of those days.
As the cross street’s light turned yellow, I depressed the clutch and shifted into first gear. A
fter a heavy foot on the accelerator, I was ready for this light to turn. I sat anxiously in wait until…
Green.
My tires screeched as I lurched forward and into the intersection. Fuck yeah. I shifted into second gear without letting up off of the gas pedal, released the shifter, and flipped my hair over my shoulder. Confidently and quickly, I glanced in the rear view mirror. As I shifted into third gear, I squinted and moved closer to the mirror. It almost looked like…
Great, I’m covered in sweat.
For some reason, since I started seeing Parker, I began to sweat. Either that or I began to notice I sweat. Regardless, in the last month or so, I’ve been sweating profusely. Without any activity or reason, I look like a gym rat or a professional athlete – one who has just finished a competition. As I attempted to blot my brow with the palm of my hand, I noticed the light at the intersection in front of me turn yellow.
And red.
I pressed the gas and accelerated through the light. A few honking horns reminded me it wasn’t the best of ideas, but it was over now. I pressed the clutch pedal to quiet the engine and turned into the alley which led to the parking in the rear of the restaurant – where the employees park.
Parker wouldn’t see my car if I parked it here.
Parker always parked in the street so he could keep an eye on his car, and for good reason. He had a very nice car and he needed to keep it that way. Mine, on the other hand…I dreamed someone would steal it. No one, however, dared. Hell, maybe several have tried for all I know, and weren’t able to keep the engine running. One advantage of owning a piece of shit car is that no one wants to steal it. In my particular case, no one was probably able to steal it.