Page 22 of Tell It To The Waves

I lay there blocking the sun with my free hand, scrolling through her feed. Moments captured forever, showing me what I missed all these years.

“We’re going to head back to the marina,” Kai screams at us.

Baylee and I both hold up our thumbs at the same time and bust out in a belly laugh.

Docking, Kai helps us off the boat, and I see a few more that weren’t here before we left. That’s good to know they’re getting business.

“We’ll drive you back to your car,” Baylee tells me.

Smiling, “Thanks.”

Heading to their car, “I don’t think so,” is called out behind us. Turning around, Mrs. Julie is standing on the pier and starts walking toward us. “You’re not leaving again without telling me goodbye, young lady.”

I give her a sad smile because she isn’t wrong.

Mrs. Julie hugs me, rocking back and forth. “He hasn’t been the same.” She quietly tells me; I freeze. Because she doesn’t have to elaborate on who he is.

“Stay in touch, August. You still have family.” Her words pierce right through my heart, but they mend something at the same time.

“I will, I promise.” And I plan to keep that promise.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Baylee asks me as she’s pulling out of our hug in the parking lot of Sippy’s.

“Late morning, I have to get back to Luna.”

She raises her eyebrows, “Luna?”

Laughing, “My cat.”

Baylee steps to her car. “I’ll be over in the morning with coffee. I want to see you before you go.”

“Sounds great.” I wave at her and Kai before they turn onto Main Street.

I don’t wait around, hurrying to get into my car and back to the cottage, not wanting another run-in with Molly or Bohdi.

The drive back to the cottage takes no time as I think about the day I just had. The trust Bay showed in telling me she was pregnant. Seeing Mrs. Julie and the words she spoke. I still can’t believe Bohdi is practically estranged from his family. That part just doesn’t make sense to me. But again, people change.

Throwing my car into park, I leave my stuff in the car and walk to the beach. Is it weird that this is where I feel the closest to my mother? I feel her in the sea, in the tides and in the way the waves roll wildly.

Standing, letting the water lick my sandals, I say, “I’m so confused. What am I supposed to do?” I tell the waves as they roll in. “I just need to know what to do. I don’t know where I belong or where to go from here.” My words and worries get swept away to the sea, swallowed down by the tides.

Breathing deeply, I turn to head back to the cottage, looking up at it. There is someone standing on the porch. Squinting, I can’t make out if it’s a man or woman. As I get closer, the figure comes into focus; I stop. “You got to be kidding me.” Molly stands on my deck, staring at me. Her long blond hair getting whipped around by the slight breeze flowing off the ocean.

I look at her like she’s lost her mind. “Can I help you?” My words come out clipped and not one bit friendly.

“No, I’m here to help you.” Her voice is raspy as if she’s been screaming. “Stay away from Bo and do yourself a favor and get out of town. You’re not wanted here. We haven't missed you these last eight years, and I promise you, we won't miss you the next.” Her words overflow with hatred. I stand there and just look at her. You can tell she tries to cover up her insecurities by adding expensive labels to them.

“Molly,” I bite her name out. “You don’t need to worry about me. I don’t even know you. And I want nothing you have, because it looks to me like you turned him into a reflection of who you are,” I sneer at her.

Her mouth drops open, and I smile at her. “Now get off my property.” Walking up the stairs, I pass her and head to my car, grabbing my tote and keys. I can hear her heels clanking on the wooden planks as she angrily storms off. I don’t look back at her, just unlock my front door, shutting it and her behind me.

Leaning back on the front door, I try to catch my breath, confused and pissed at the audacity she had to show up at my home… How easily that one word came out. Home.

“Ugh.” I let my tote drop and immediately need to busy myself and my mind.

Going to the record player, I turn it on, shuffling through my dad’s vinyls until I find the one I’m looking for: Stevie Nicks. Placing it on the platter, gently bringing the arm over it, easing the needle down, the silent words of Stevie become alive in the living room. Turning it up, Bella Donna fills the quietness.

I decide to start in my old bedroom, opening the window, letting fresh air come into the stale room. In under an hour, I have the closet fully cleaned out, the bedding stripped, and no sign that a girl used to call it her room.