"Was He Yours?"
I spent a better part of seven days surfing. Alex went through every single one of his books and made it halfway through my pile, which I hardly touched, and we headed back again. By the end of the time I was salt, wind, and sun burned. Alex’s tan complexion didn’t usually burn but even he was looking a little ruddy. Both of us were harboring small piles of sand in our packs, body, and clothes. At each break we took from driving on the way home we kept discovering more of it. At first, Alex tried to clean it out, muttering in frustration as he lost each little battle.Eventually, though, he just gave up.
We camped in the same spot we had on the way out and drove into the city just as evening was falling. Even though I had loved my week at the beach I was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower in my own bathroom, and cleaning the sand out of my hair and ears.
We pulled up to my house right before sunset and just before I got out to grab my sandy backpack Alex leaned over to talk to me.
“Autumn, I mean this. If you need anything call me. If you get sad or miss things, or just want to go back to the beach, let me know.”
“Thank you Alex.”
“I know we can’t love here. And I know for some reason you miss that because you understand it in some way. You’ve tried so many times this week to explain to me. And I know that I don’t understand it and you are starting to, like you are waking up. And I’m sorry that’s happening to you because it’s hard and it hurts.”
I gasped, because I had no idea he had any sense of what was going on but he had listened carefully. I wasn’t surprised, though.
He continued. “I might be wrong, Autumn, but I think it has something to do with that newcomer that you met when we were still working at the opera house. The tall one with the long black hair. He seemed like a ghost out of your past, like he was one of the rare wretched newcomers who remembered who he loved and he remembered you and he...”
“Stop.” I cut him off.
“Did he used to be yours?” he continued, ignoring my request.
I looked up at him, my eyes brimming and threatening to spill over.
“No, Alex.” I hesitated, wondering how much to say. Before I could moderate my explanation it fell out of me, the words escaping with their own weight. “He could never be mine, was never mine, but it was like he held all sorts of memories of me hostage, and he gave them all back and it’s heavy and it hurts and I want everything back so badly.”
“Everything?”
“Life. I want to be alive. I didn’t want to die so young.”
“It’s not fair,” he said consolingly. “He shouldn’t have given you any hints. He should have known what sort of damage it would be.”
“He owed it to me.” I mumbled as I opened the car door.
“Autumn,” he said. “I’m completely serious. If you ever need anything, call me.”
“Thank you, Alex.” I said softly. “You know I will.”