I never thought I’d feel this way about a woman. I dreamed about Sophie being mine when I was younger, used to imagine what it would be like to be with her. I even compared the girls I dated in high school and college to her, and rarely dated someone who didn’t look like her in some way. It’s a damn sickness, being so attracted to someone. And now that I’ve finally been with her, felt her in ways I’ve only ever thought about, I don’t know how to turn off my feelings. If anything, she’s magnified them by a million.
Sighing heavily, I dip my hands into the water and paddle out a bit to where my feet are no longer touching the sand. I let the waves push me around, up and down, as I look out over the horizon. There are a few boats out, a couple of water skiers, jet skiers, and a parasailer. People are doing their best to wash away the winter blues, even though it’s not even spring yet. I want a boat, something bigger than the sailboat I have at my house that takes me around the lake. I want something where I take it out for days, live on it, and escape. As I continue to look out, I realize I want Bermuda. It’s out there, waiting for a single guy like me to come visit.
A couple of guys drop their boards next to me and holler as they go by, asking if I’m heading out. I nod but stay put. I’m in no mood to surf, not today. I’m of the mindset where I need to find a dingy bar and drink my sorrows away. That’s just what my parents or sister need, a call from the middle of nowhere to come pick up my drunk ass. Sounds really appealing.
I finally give up and make my way to the shore and take my board back. The same group of women are still by the shed, clearly interested in the kid behind the counter. I give him my board and make sure all the necessary paperwork is signed and my credit card is back in my pocket.
When I get back to my Jeep, I don’t bother looking at my phone. I know Sophie isn’t going to call me and I don’t want to see a text or hear a message from Ellie telling me her friend isn’t going to budge. When I left Sophie, I saw it in her eyes, she has no intentions of jeopardizing her relationship with my sister. I should admire her for this quality, but right now I don’t. I want to shake her and tell her to wake the fuck up, but I would never. I’ll tuck tail and do my thing.
On my way back to town, I decide the back roads are going to be my friend. I can keep the top down on the Wrangler and not have to worry about traffic and exhaust from other cars ruining my fun. Except the dingy bar on the side of the road, the one I shouldn’t stop at, is calling my name. I pull off, into the dirt parking lot and park. I don’t hesitate, and grab my wallet and phone, and head into the place.
Grimy, it’s not, but it’s not a three-star joint either. Soft music plays in the dimly lit bar. The female bartender tells me to pick a seat, which is easy because there are only two other people in here. I opt for the fifth stool and tell her I’ll take whatever she has on tap and place my credit card on the bar. She slides a pint in front of me and tells me she’ll start a tab. It’s like she knows I’m not here for one beer, but many.
After I empty the first, I get up and head to the bathroom, where my impression of this place plummets from a low three to a negative ten. There are flies buzzing around my head and it looks like someone had the most explosive situations ever. I have no choice but to hold my breath while I take a piss.
As my luck would have it, as soon as I undue my zipper, my phone falls out of my shorts. I make an ill-fated attempt at trying to catch it—midstream—my little buddy starts flying in every which direction, my hands are fumbling with my device, and I’m trying not to move because who know what the hell I’m going to step in. And just like that, as if my universe is moving in slow motion, my phone flips through the air, mocking the fuck out of me, and lands into the toilet bowl, which looks like it hasn’t been flushed in years. The water is deep dark brown, with caked on . . . no I don’t want to think it. I scream no, but my voice comes out more as an echo, and when it splashes, I use my hands to shield my face, but it’s too late. I’m contaminated.