Page 74 of Sunset Catchers

“No lines were crossed. There was no trespassing over my body with that kiss.” Only over my heart, apparently. He lets out a breathy laugh.

“Okay, Winnie. Glad we cleared that up.”

“Sure thing, big stud.” I subtly inhale a great measure of air when he reaches for his phone in his pocket, the quiet buzzing sound indicating a new text message.

“Benny agreed to lend us his truck to go to the vintage market,” Levi states while tucking his phone away again.

We are set to leave on Friday, and although all the big pieces were now accounted for, for both cottages, I still want to cover our bases and have the means to bring back anything special we might find. Both my car and Levi’s just won’t cut if we find something of a larger scale, so he’d suggested this solution.

“That’s great! Then, I guess we’re all good to go.”

Rooms have been booked in a recently renovated hotel about 30 minutes away from the market, which offered me everything I needed: a seemingly comfortable bed, a big shower with fancy amenities and a coffee shop in a five minutes’ walk radius.

“I saw the itinerary you shared with me. Thank you for doing that. I could’ve helped.”

“It’s fine. I love making lists.”

I made us a loose itinerary, listing down places I found to visit to make sure we got to them all, since some had odd opening hours. I also scoured menus from all the restaurants near our hotel to find the ones offering decent vegetarian options.

I am very excited about our weekend of vintage shopping. It brings back memories from my childhood, when my mom and I would go to yard sales, searching for inexpensive treasures to decorate our apartment with.

Some of our findings have led to some of my favorite memories. A multicolor disco ball light we’d lit up on a rare Saturday night and dance our hearts out, twirling in the living room until we’d fall on the couch, both breathless and sweaty. A cow print plate that would make its appearance once a year to hold the French toasts my mom would make on Easter morning. A lamp shaped like a vase of flowers, so we’d always have some blooms around that never wilted.

That’s the thing about having a complicated childhood. It wasn’t all bad, all the time. Through the most barren and depressing times, there were these moments that were rays of sunshine peeking through a cloud-covered sky that warmed my heart by how bright and vital they felt. When I was a kid, I lived for those sunlit slivers of happiness.

As soon as my mom would walk into the kitchen, early in the morning, harboring a small smile on her face, I knew it was going to be a good day. There were so little of them through the years, and yet, every one of them was imprinted in my brain in their own photo album.

At the worst of our rocky relationship, I would bring that album to the forefront of my mind, going through each of these happy moments that were frozen in time, hoping that the sun would peak trough soon again. Eventually, though, as I turned into a teenager and got closer to the age my mom was when she had me, the wall of clouds grew too dense to see through.

I have grown to learn that my mom could be bubbly and that she had the nicest laugh, the kind that you’d hear and immediately turned around, looking for the source of such a pure and joyous sound, wanting to witness the reason behind it. I was just never on the receiving end of it. I mostly got tired and angry sighs, indifference or plain, viscous silence.

“You doing alright, Win?”

A few flutters of my lashes to clear the past away, and I am back into the present.

Levi’s eyes are pinned on me, roving over my face, then to the hand I brought over my heart to soothe the ache away.

“Yes, sorry,” I say, shaking my head to dislodge the memories. Which I’ve always thought was a funny reflex we did, as if our bodies were trying to flash to whoever was around that we were, in fact, not okay. “Just thinking about how I used to go to yard sales with my mom. Going on this trip reminded me of that.”

“In a good way, or in a bad way?”

“Both,” I reply. Always both.

For a fleeting moment, it seems as though he wants to ask me about it, but then, he doesn’t, reminding us of my rule to keep his questions surface level.

And in my own fleeting moment, for once, I wish he would’ve dug under the surface, scooping out some of the dirt that painted my insides into muddy shades of brown.

Sunset Hour

“Hey, you never told me what your zodiac sign is.”

“Okay…”

I look at Levi, and I wait.

“It’s not a thing people go around sharing about themselves.”

“It absolutely is.”