“You know Indian Beach is going to be insanely busy today,” she tells me.
“Yeah,” I sigh and look out the windows onto Cannon Beach. The waves aren’t hitting as hard here, but they’re big enough. “Let’s stay here then.”
“You sure?”
“We can wake up early and hit Indian tomorrow before the crowds get there.”
Nice weather is short-lived around here. Once the grey skies clear and the rain slows, everyone swarms to the Oregon coast, and Indian Beach is the spot that draws in the most people.
Hopping off the couch, she says, “Sounds good. I’ll go grab my wetsuit.”
We spend the next hour in the water until I hear my mother calling my name up on the beach. Paddling in, I walk out of the water, and my mother knows me too well when she starts taking a couple steps back, but I rush in and wrap my arms around her, soaking her clothes.
She laughs, and when I let go of her, she grumbles, “Now I have to go in and change. Thanks!”
“You’re welcome,” I tease.
Shaking off the mock irritation, she says, “It’s good to see you, honey.”
“You too.”
She tucks a lock of her short blonde hair behind her ear and asks, “How much longer are you guys going to be out here?”
“Not too long.”
She gives me a smile. “Okay. Well, I’ll be inside whenever you two are done,” and turns to go back in.
When I paddle back out, Tori is sitting on her board, and I join her as we bob up and down in the choppy water.
“What’re you doing?” I ask.
“Taking a break,” she responds as she looks out to the setting sun.
I can tell something is bothering her, so I come out and say, “Talk to me, Tor. What’s up?”
She looks over at me, annoyed that I can read her like I do. Letting out a big sigh, she questions, “You ever wonder what it is we’re doing?”
“Meaning?”
“Life,” she says, taking a pause before continuing, “I guess I just thought I would feel more content than I do. Truth is . . . sometimes I feel like I’m too settled. Kids. Husband. Like I’m stuck.”
When she looks over at me, I grab her board, steadying it next to me. “You’re not happy?”
She doesn’t respond.
“No,” I answer for her.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. You’re thinking too much.”
“Are you happy?” she asks.
It’s a loaded question. I’m numb most of the time. Friends are dropping off the scene, settling down with girls, and I’m still doing the same old shit. But the fear outweighs the jealousy, so I don’t get too hung up on the fact that I’m emotionally incapable of having that. I never have had that. Never allowed myself the opportunity. All I know how to do is care for myself. I’m selfish just like he was. I’m not a provider the way a man should be; I’m a taker. I stay disconnected—and take.
“I’m as happy as I can be, I guess.”
Tori never knew about my father, that he was a dick who used to pound his fists into his wife and son. Black eyes, broken ribs, bruises, and concussions. We kept it hidden well, my mother and I. They knew he drank, maybe not as heavily as he did, but that much they knew. Everything else, we never spoke about. Once he died, Mom was determined to start a new life. A life that had nothing to do with our past.
“Do you ever think about settling down?” she asks.
“No,” I respond with forced ease.
“So you’re happy? Having a different girl in your bed every night?”
I laugh. “Every night is an exaggeration, and those chicks aren’t in my bed either. They stay downstairs.”
“How is it that you haven’t gotten the shit beat out of you yet?” she jokes in disgust.
My laughter grows as I say, “Lucky, I guess.”
We sit for a minute or two when I finally ask the kicker, “Are you not happy with Trevor?”
It doesn’t take but a second for her eyes to gloss over as she admits, “I don’t know.” When the tears fall, she reveals, “Maybe it’s supposed to be this way. Maybe what I was expecting just isn’t reality. My reality is . . . I’ve lost myself along the way somehow. Between two kids and not working, I’m just lost. I don’t know of any other word to describe what I feel.”
“What does Trevor say? Does he even know?”
“He doesn’t want to hear me complain after he’s been at work all day.”
“Talk to him, Tor. Whatever is going on with you, he loves you and the kids. Maybe it’s time for you to get out of the house. Go back to work.”
She wipes her face and laughs softly. “The thought of not being with my kids kills me. I know you’re right, but mommy guilt is a bitch.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t know about that,” I chuckle. Shifting, I lie down on my board and say, “Come on. Let’s drink,” before paddling back in.
After dinner, I walk into the kitchen to grab a beer and check my phone while Tori and my mom talk in the living room. Popping the cap off the bottle, I take a long sip before picking up my phone. I scan through some new emails that have come through and forward a couple to Michael.
Setting my phone back down, I lean against the counter and take another swig when my eye catches the cracked wood in the corner of the kitchen island.