I follow Chris to his Wrangler, a step behind and a bit apprehensive. Why couldn't one of the girls be going out to pick up supplies? As I climb into the red Jeep, I'm embarrassed by my own insecurities. Just last night I felt I could conquer the world. Just because I haven't made any new male friends since I met Bosley, doesn't mean I can't now.
The wind whips my hair furiously as we drive along the main strip. I wrap it into a twist and hold it with my hand, watching gas stations and stores pass by.
“So where you from?” Chris says, shifting his weight, switching which hand is on the wheel.
“Up North.” I look out the side of the vehicle, hoping it'll keep him from asking more. At the sound of his voice, I feel an attraction to him but shake it off. I'm married. ...sort of.
“What brings you down here?”
I look at the road ahead now while I think of how to answer. “I just needed a change.” ...not a very social way to start our relationship. After a silence, I turn to him and smile. Trying to guess his age, I put him around 30. “Have you lived here long?”
Sunlight glints off his wedding band. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved.
“Yeah, most of my life,” he says, pulling into the middle lane and flicking on his blinker. “I love it here. Have you had a chance to look around yet?”
“No. I just got here yesterday and I -”
“Yesterday? Serious?” He looks at me wide-eyed – I assume - behind his sunglasses.
“Yeah.” I drop my gaze to my lap as traffic holds us there on the highway, waiting to turn.
“You didn't waste any time getting a job, did you?” he says and laughs.
“No.”
“Where you staying?” He watches the traffic for a break.
“In a motel for now,” I say, hoping he notice my vagueness.
An opening in the traffic comes and he takes it, shifting me against the door as he speeds into the parking lot.
“Sorry,” he says. “I hate Croaton. It's a mess this time of day.”
“No problem. Thanks again for the ride.” I'm ready to jump ship before he even comes to a stop.
“Hey,” he says when I'm half out the door. “There's a party on the beach tonight at Kill Devil Hills near the pier. You want to go?”
A party? I haven't been to a party since I was eighteen. “John's got me on 'til closing. Thanks anyway though.” Thank God I have an excuse. What would I do at a party? I can't even make conversation with one person.
“Me too. It doesn't get going until eleven anyway. I'll be going after closing.”
Crud. I stand looking at him with my hand on the door.
“You can ride with me from work if you want,” he says when I don't respond.
“Maybe.” I feel like I should be more thankful. He's offering me a new start, an easy way to get to know people and a night of fun on the beach. But all I can think of is how awkward I'll feel.
Inside the store, I load up my basket with whatever basics I think I can fit in my motel refrigerator. In the produce aisle, a pint of blueberries screams for my attention. At the deli, I pick up a quarter pound of roast beef and a few slices of American cheese for sandwiches. On an end cap hangs freezer bags. I stop to consider how long it will take me to walk four or five miles back to the motel in eighty degree weather and toss one in the basket. Hopefully it will do the job. I grab buns to complete the sandwiches. In the cereal aisle, I browse colorful boxes, spot Lucky Charms – on sale! - and grab a box for Bosley. He'll be happy.
Delivery stops midway from the shelf to the basket as a flash flood of realization hits me. The colors on the box hold my surprised gaze. I don't need cereal for Bosley. Will I ever? I miss him so much. My eyes well up and my breathing grows shallow. If only I could snap my fingers and make it all go back to the way it was. I want his arms around me. I want to say good morning with a hug in the kitchen while we wait for the coffee to percolate. I want dinner at the Kostas no matter how annoying they are. I want Damian to be flirty Damian again, not dangerous ...whatever he is now.
The sound of tears dropping onto the cardboard box brings me back to my current location – Food Lion, Outer Banks, North Carolina ...far away from Bosley. My free hand wipes the tears off my hot face while the other returns the now-stained box to the shelf.
“Tough decision. Isn't it?” I hear a man say behind me.
I ignore him and wipe my tears again. I can't even fake a smile.
“Lucky Charms?” he continues. “Or Fruity Pebbles?”
Does he really think I'm upset over which cereal to choose. I turn to look at him indignantly over my shoulder. He smiles. I realize it was a joke and smile too, lowering my head in embarrassment. Out of the corner of my eye, I can still see his white shirt and dark blue jeans. But my focus returns to the cereal boxes.
“Are you okay?” he says, his voice indicating a change of tone.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, shooing the thought away. “I'm fine.” I have to turn my back to him as I say it or he'll see that I've begun to cry again. “I just can't find Special K.” I pretend to focus on my search and hope he doesn't hear the quivering in my voice.
“You mean this?” He stands a few feet away, holding up the white box with a red K on it.
“Yes.” For a moment, I hesitate to step forward and take it from him. “Thanks,” I say, tossing it in my basket.
“Wesley,” he says, presenting his hand to me.
“An-...d I'm Mollie.” I get a good look at him now, long hair pulled back into a ponytail, several days stubble, a hemp necklace with one shark's tooth around his neck.
“You going to be alright now or do you need help finding the milk?”
I laugh. “I'll be okay. Thanks.”
He remains in my thoughts throughout the remainder of the store. Around each corner, I worry about running into him again. I could not be more embarrassed.
The cold items just barely fit into the freezer bag. The rest of my items are tossed into two plastic bags. The heat hits me as the automatic doors separate. Crossing four lanes to get across the main strip almost kills me. Between the heat and the stress, I drip with sweat.
I figure it'll take me half an hour or longer to walk back to the motel. That will give me about two hours or so before I need to go to DuneBurger. Then... the party. A list of pros and cons occupies my thoughts on my long walk back. I'm not feeling very social. I'm not cool enough to fit in down here. Up north, snobby was cool. Being an anti-social artist was cool. Staying in and reading was cool. Down here, it's beaches and parties, burgers and grease, summer fun and meeting new people. I'll have to adapt eventually if I'm going to stay here – and I'm not planning on going anywhere soon. But walking towards a beach party at midnight will be harder than walking into the lunchroom on the first day of school.
~~ Should Ana go to the party? ~~
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