Avoiding the Memory of You

Three

  Immediately tears are filling her eyes and I have a strong urge to run out of the door before I curse at the woman for being emotional. Quickly I box up my food and begin to shuffle out of the booth.  Just as I stand however, the woman's arms are around me, squeezing as she buries her face in my cream colored sweater. 

  I blow out a breath up towards the ceiling and awkwardly pat her back twice and try to step out of her hold. It takes another three pats before she's coming to her senses and pulls away.  Leaving a mass amount of make up smeared smack in the middle of my chest.

  Guess I'll be tossing this in the trash as soon as I get to the rental.

  "You come back anytime now, okay?"

  The old me wants to smart back about how she's probably only saying that in the hopes I'd drop another hundred in for a tip. Instead, I dig deep where I know the new me is trying to break free and just call out a "Thanks" as I'm on my way out the door.

  It's not too much further of a drive before I get to the rental owned by Peggy and Melvin's son.  He told me I'd gotten lucky with this one. Most of his places are booked out for the entirety of the summer but apparently this person backed out due to health matters. 

  The better version of me would hope the person is alright and gets whatever help necessary to keep on going day to day.  But the old version still lingers and I slightly grin at someone's misfortune being exactly what I need to help secure my goals.

  This whole new me thing is going to be a lot harder than I thought.

  I turn right onto the road that Lee told me about, following  his directions rather than the GPS through my phone.  His idea of landmarks isn't quite as normal as someone who would say turn left at the gas station, or even go east til you see a McDonalds. 

  No, this guy tells me to look for things like giant gnome lawn ornaments and street lights that still have Christmas wreaths on them. 

  The South is rather strange. 

  He also informed me that the house is the last one on the stretch of beach. But just in case I lost track of that, he said just look for the mail box that's covered in seashells and I'd find my home for the next couple of months.

  What he didn't let me know is the house looks like it could be on its last legs from the outside.  The sun has already set, leaving the sky with the last remnants of its dying gold rays before the sky will become inky black. Even without it being daylight, I'm not so sure this house is going to withstand even a single gust of wind. 

  Here's to hoping there are zero storms this summer.

  I park the Beemer by the road, not really trusting to pull it under the carport.  In the mailbox I find a note rather than the key that was suppose to be waiting for me. 

  Your neighbor has the key. I don't ever trust to just put it in the box like my wife suggests.

  I may shove the box closed a little too hard and wind up knocking it off kilter, causing a few of the shells to fall. Exactly what  I expect to happen to this place, making me rethink the two month rental time I'd planned on. Pocketing the shells and my keys I look to the closest house next to me, still a good fifty feet away.  Walking through the sand isn't ideal, but when I run out of road and sidewalk, my dress shoes are now being covered in soft sand.  

  Looking up at the two story house, I notice a light shining through from the second floor.  I'm not sure how this family is going to feel when I knock on the door at nine o'clock at night. I'll just hope there's no screaming kids running around.