“How’ve you been? I miss you. What are you doing tonight? Are you off work?” She asked a lot of questions. Thankfully, she didn’t wait for me to respond to any of them. She told me she was waiting tables at a clam shack on the East side of the island. I agreed I’d stop by tonight and say hello.
“I’m off at eleven!” she promised.
“Great.” I ended the call.
I swear I didn’t lead women on. I was always honest about my feelings or lack thereof. I wasn’t trying to be a player. I didn’t want to get serious with anyone and I’d be the first to admit it. But for some women that seemed to add fuel to the fire. I’d tell them I wasn’t interested and they’d double down, deciding they would be the one to teach me a lesson in love.
What they didn’t know was I already had fallen in love, once. It had sucked. It had felt like my insides had been scooped out with a melon baller. Sure, I’d spent a couple months high as a kite, whirling around in a heady rush unlike anything I’d ever felt before or since. But for every minute of high, I’d paid for it tenfold with hours of scrape-me-off-the-bottom-of-a-shoe low. It wasn’t worth it.
Another call came in, from a guy I worked with enjoying the same 48 hours off rotation.
“You in tonight? Keg by the breakers?”
“Sure,” I agreed. Sounded as good an option as any.
“Knew I could count on you.”
That was an easy call. I liked being that guy, the reliable, dependable, good-time guy people thought I was. I didn’t want the darkness I sometimes felt within. I didn’t want to be the guy chased by sadness, even despair over painful memories. Nor did I want to be a man who only felt truly alive in the midst of an intense Dom/sub session, wielding my power to force another, then another orgasm.
I wanted to be the guy with nothing much on his mind, no worries, just a quick, funny one-liner or an observation about the Red Sox. That was the kind of guy who would have a wife and kids someday, maybe even someday soon. I could picture it in the abstract. Maybe she’d be a nurse like my mom or a teacher. I’d coach little league and we’d have other families over on weekends.
I told myself I’d get there in time. With hard work, I could become an emotional lightweight, a shallow reflecting pool. Then I could chart a direct path right to the safe, if a little boring, harbor of domestic tranquility.
Finally at the mini market, I grabbed a basket and started the rounds. Even during peak tourist season when the crowds swelled, I couldn’t head anywhere without running into a bunch of people I knew.
“Liam! How’s it hanging?” Right off the bat, I saw a guy I’d met on a remodel project last year. He was an electrician and let me tell you, you could do worse than work as an electrician on an island of billionaires who had no idea how to take care of their homes. The guy cleaned up. We caught up quick and he mentioned another project he had going with a different contractor.
“Good guy, I’ll introduce you.” And just like that I got another contact. I could probably make enough money with just carpentry work if I devoted enough time to it. But I liked the adrenaline of being a firefighter, the guys at the station, the camaraderie. And, hell, the handful of times we actually got to rescue someone, that felt pretty damn good.
I grabbed a six-pack and some yellow onions. I had no idea what sage was but a cute girl working there had no difficulty showing me. She bit her lip as she looked up at me and batted her eyelashes. But she couldn’t be much more than 20. She’d probably want to Snapchat and take selfies every three seconds. I thanked her and went to grab myself some protein bars, then butter for my mom.
“Hey, how’s the baby?” I greeted the cashier up front, a girl I’d gone to high school with.
“You’ve got to catch up.” She laughed, patting her tummy. “Baby’s 18 months old and I’m pregnant again.”
“Really?” My eyebrows must have shot up, surprise registering all over my face because she cracked up again.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“No, I just…” It seemed like she and Tom had only just gotten married. They’d both been a year ahead of me in school. But then she’d been pregnant already at the wedding. That had been a fun night. I shook my head. “Anyway, congratulations.”
“Yeah, thanks.” She brushed hair out of her eyes as she swiped bar codes, looking tired. “How’s life with you? Having fun?”
I could hear the edge to her voice, half mocking, half jealous. She was one of the smug, married parents of the world on one side of the fence with a proprietary lock on all that was meaningful in life. And yet at times I bet she still desperately wished she could hop on over where the grass was greener and party carefree and reckless. But life didn’t let you do both.
“Same old, same old,” I answered honestly, sliding my credit card and bagging the groceries myself. The store was busy and nothing drove me more crazy than the number of spoiled shoppers who stood there like their hands were tied behind their backs waiting until someone came and put their food into a bag for them.
“When are you going to settle down, Liam?” she asked, handing me my receipt. “You’re not getting any younger.”
“I’m not 90 yet.” I winked at her and smiled before I turned to go. She’d have no way of knowing that her words hit home. I knew I was young and had plenty of years in front of me to spend any which way I wanted. But I could see change happening all around me.
Last year my buddy Chase had gotten married. That one had shaken me up more than I’d like to admit. He’d been on the boat with me that day everything had gone wrong. When you went through something like that as kids, you became like brothers. He and I had stayed close through the years, even when he’d moved to California and then Arizona to train for competitive swimming.
Then, just like that, he’d fallen in love with a physical therapist named Emma and gotten married. I’d met her and quickly seen why he’d done it. She was lovely and gorgeous and the two of them looked at each other like no one else was even in the room. But it still left me with a strange sense of…what just happened? Like I was at a party with my friends and we were all jamming to the same song, but then one silently slipped off into a new groove. It made me wonder who else would sneak out when I least expected it.
Little Miss Sage was there as I exited the store, trying to wrangle some stray carts. Grocery bag tucked under one arm, my firefighter brawn came to the rescue, taming the carts in no time flat.
“Thank you so much.” She looked up at me all rosy, flushed and appealing. “You’re my hero.”
“Nothin’ to it, ma’am.” I pretended to tip an imaginary cowboy hat and she giggled.
“Do I know you?” she asked, brimming with fresh, youthful eagerness. “You look familiar.”
“I live here.” I shrugged.
“Ooh, year round?” she asked, like it was glamorous.
“Yup, so I’ll likely see you sometime soon.” I headed off to my truck, knowing I’d passed up an opportunity. She might be as old as 22 or 23, on the island for the summer and ready for a good time, ripe for the picking with none of the messiness that could result from hooking up with a local. The island got real small off-season. Now was the time to take advantage of the carnival atmosphere of summer.
Problem was, that was exactly how my father would have thought. He took full advantage of his big, Irish, dashing good looks and made the most of seasonal opportunities. I had his blood running through my veins, but that didn’t mean I had to act the same way.
I revved up my truck, waited for a couple of ladies chatting to get out of the way, then waited for several more people with carts to clear out before I could merge into the line to leave the parking lot. Tomorrow I’d make my trip at six a.m. This was total bullshit.