CHAPTER 2 - JAX
I sit on a brick wall just after sunrise, knowing the odds are against me. I watch the waves twenty yards in front of me—rolling, crashing, spraying, and bringing me solitude. This is where I need to be this morning. I shake the hair from my eyes and let the breeze blow it back. Some days, you can lick your lips and taste a hint of salt; today is one of them. The air is crisp, enticing goose bumps on my exposed arms, awakening my senses, and reminding me why I call this place home.
I look far beyond the whitewash hoping for a sign. The same sign I’ve searched for on so many other occasions. I need to see the smooth, dark-gray back folding over in the ocean as it releases a massive spray of water. That’s my sign. It’s tells me everything is going to be okay. I have a better chance after sundown, but I need to see this now, before my appointment. Some sort of encouragement would be nice when I’m feeling so alone in this. Yes, I’m used to going it alone, but this time is different.
With my hands pressed down and grinding against the brick, I hang my head for a moment. Close my eyes and think. I go over the last few months and wonder about some of the decisions I’ve made. I know it seems as if I don’t care what people think, but this one is big. I have no problem admitting that I screwed up. I can say that; I’m not a hypocrite. I say a silent prayer in my head, but as I often do, I cannot stay focused on what I’m praying for. That’s because as of late I don’t know what I want. I begin to sing “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” by Poison, the first song my dad taught me on the guitar when I was only eight years old. Those are my favorite memories of him, when it felt as if I had a real dad. My voice comes out soft, almost a whisper, and I can hear the music in my head. I tell myself that by the time I get to the chorus, I’ll glance up and find what I need to see.
The familiar smell of eggs and onion from my favorite taco shop on the corner float under my nose, carried by the ocean breeze. I haven’t eaten and now I’m distracted. An egg burrito from Juan’s could be my sign, I try to convince myself. But it’s no use. I hear the mechanical sound of something rolling toward me, so I stop singing. But I don’t open my eyes. I just wait for it to pass.
“Hey, sexy,” I hear behind me.
The voice doesn’t match the words, so I’m curious. The thought of sustenance fades as I pop my head up, shift my body on the wall to face the sidewalk. A boy on a scooter, probably mid-teens, stares at me as he rolls slowly by.
“Hey!” I yell, stopping him in his tracks. My voice is sharp and deep, and for a second, he is frightened by it, but then I smile and see his fear melt into relief. I know I have this power over people—to make them fear me or love me. “C’mere, man.”
His skin is light brown and reminds me of a warm cup of coffee that could whisk my chill way. Braids flutter on each side of his head like some crazy Red Riding Hood as he rolls toward me. His white T-shirt looks like an undershirt, with a gold cross on a chain hanging between the V-neck. His dark blue jeans hang low on his waist. I don’t comment on the blue-and-white checkered boxers that border the top. Worst fashion trend since headbands.
“What’s up, sexy?” he says and then smiles wide. His teeth are gorgeous, straight and white. It’s an effort not to be taken in.
“What do you think you’re doing calling a strange woman sexy?” I’m copying Emily’s tone when she speaks to her kids, though I don’t particularly mind his comment. I want to see what his response is.
He shrugs as he rolls closer and appears surprised to be getting a lecture from someone like me. I’m often told I look much younger than my twenty-eight years. I’m only five-two and my light skin and chubby cheeks don’t help. “And why aren’t you in school?” I can tell this kid has a story.
