It's finally Sunday. This week has shoved me down, dropped me in the middle of a swell, leaving me gasping for air. I'm barely hanging on, but today does have one thing I can look forward to. Sunday's carry a small moment in my day, in my week, where I have a moment of peace.
Running on Sunday started out as a way to step away from any of the stresses from the week. A moment to myself in order to check out from the realities of life. Over the last few weeks, those runs have been something I look forward to more and more. It's not just the escape either. I found even on days where I actually had a great week, or mornings where I was just too tired to lace up my shoes, that I still made my way to the beach. It wasn't the motivation to stay fit or follow a routine, it's the possibility of seeing those blue eyes and fluffy adorable little four legged friend.
Ever since our second encounter, we've managed to run into one another every single Sunday. I usually start my run alone, finishing it out with a walk alongside good company. There's something about walking that beach with Tommy. I look forward to it. To the ease of conversation, to the light humor he exudes, and that damn smile that always seems to appear when I'm attempting to be funny.
I've never had that with anyone. That pull toward someone where you spring out of bed just hoping to see them. That's what Sunday mornings have become. An inevitable desire to be on that beach at the same time each week. I'm sure this has been his routine for years. One that I seem to keep crashing, but as far as I can tell, he doesn't seem to mind it.
Seeing him yesterday was nice. It was a change in our usual encounters, a pleasant bonus to my weekend. The thing is, we weren't on the beach. We weren't alone either. There's something about being with him on this sand, looking out at the sun glistening against the water, that allows me to fully open up. It's like out here we have our own little bubble. Our own world.
What I know right now as I make my way down the beach is that I could really use the comfort of that bubble right now. To talk to someone about the shit of this week. Not just anyone either. Someone who reads me without having to say anything. Who understands what I'm saying when no words have actually been shared. The one person who I've come to this very beach for every single week.
Just as I make it to the same spot, my favorite ball of fluff joins me by my side. An automatic smile spreads across my face, bringing me a sense of joy that I was lacking these last few days. I'd be lying if I said it was just the dog that had my chest feeling a bit lighter. I slowly stand from Stella, pulling my eyes to my left to see Tommy standing with his usual smile.
"Hey," I automatically smile back.
"Hi. You ready to walk?"
I slowly nod before tapping the side of my thigh, signaling to Stella to join us. Her tail jolts her up, falling in at my side before she chases a bird toward the water. I can't help but laugh at her excitement.
"How was your week? Besides the hand, of course," I ask Tommy, bringing my eyes to his now. I'm really getting used to seeing those eyes looking back at me.
He glances down to his hand, examining the damage. I remember reaching for him yesterday without even thinking. After all of our interactions the last few weeks, we've remained physically distant, never reaching out for one another. I saw that cut and before I could process what I was doing, I was holding his hand between mine. It was instinct to reach for him. Once I did, I seemed to enjoy his touch a lot more than I probably should have.
"Good. Nothing too exciting. Just a few of the usual customers along with a couple newbies," he so casually answers, pulling my thoughts away from his touch.
A small laugh escapes me at his nonchalant response. "I like how you make it sound like just another day as a grocery clerk or something."
I have actually really enjoyed his work stories. Some of them are so ridiculously outlandish that I have to question if he's telling the truth. Though, I seem to have an instant sense of trust when it comes to him.
He responds to my comment with that laugh that seems to appear more often than I have been used to in a while. I like it. I like the little dance my heart does and the slight flutter in my stomach. Something that has become a regular lately when I'm with him. Yet another thing I look forward to on our walks.
"I mean, there is a sense of routine to it. A pattern if you will. But there's always the unexpected to throw you off. Sometimes it's something small other times it's a bit more of a rush. Requires me to be a little more alert," he responds.
I think about what he's saying. Sometimes with the lighthearted stories he tells me, I forget about the other side to his job. The absolute shit he has to see. It's the stories he purposefully chooses to withhold that probably weigh on him the most. The ones that ultimately need to be said out loud.
"Do you ever get scared?" I ask without actually thinking about my question. I don't mean to go deep or to pry about something he doesn't really want to talk about.
He doesn't immediately respond and the change in his expression has me second guessing my rash question. I quickly start to speak to take back my words when he beats me to it.
"I think everyone gets a little scared at some point," he says, letting his eyes connect with mine again. He's not just speaking for himself at this moment. He's doing what he always does, reading me. "But that's when the adrenaline and tactic take over. When your brain shifts into a gear above normalcy. Putting everything on high alert. It's like all of your senses come alive, working together to make the right decision."
I consider his use of words, reflecting on my own struggles lately. "Have you ever made a wrong one? Decision, I mean."
I see his mind sorting through my words. He's digging for the deeper meaning. Doing what he does best, the very thing I need him to do.
"Depends on what we're talking about. If we're talking I should have ordered the steak kind of decision, then yes. I have made plenty of those," he bends down to pick up a stick from the ground, throwing it into the water for Stella. I watch as she dives into a shallow wave, coming out with the piece of driftwood. She runs to me now, dropping it at my feet as I bend to pick it up. I throw it back out, watching as she chases again with joy. I can't help but smile as she dives into the water again.
As Tommy begins to speak, I shift my eyes back to his. "Now, if you're talking about the life altering kind, the ones you have to truly trust your gut on, then no. I think when you make those decisions, you're making them for a reason. One that you've usually thought out, that you decided on because it felt like the complete right thing to do. I don't think you can be wrong when you trust your gut like that."
I slowly nod my head in agreement, though I can't say I actually fully agree with him. That twist in my heart every time I see Mia missing her father. Each time he can't be there for something because we're here and he's there, that's because of the decision I made. That's because I left.
My eyes are trained on Stella now, trying to ignore the pit growing in my stomach. I can feel myself spiraling. I can feel the twisted thoughts of what I've done to rip our family apart. I can hear his voice so clearly in my head reminding me that this is my fault. I know that's not all completely true, but a part of it is. I did move us out here.
As my chest begins to pound, I feel a soft yet firm hand slide into mine, gently pulling me to a stop. The feel of his hand in mine doesn't feel foreign or frightful. It feels calming and warm. Not to mention the tingle that's making its way up my arm, swirling around the panicked beat of my heart, pulling it back into a steady rhythm.
"Is that what you think, Amber? That you made the wrong decision in coming here?" he asks, using those damn powers of perception to pull from me what I have been struggling to say.
I slowly nod my head, using those eyes of his to keep my tears at bay. "I think I could have still left him and not uprooted our lives so far away. I could have separated from him and not chosen literally the furthest possible place from him, without leaving the country that is."
"Amber, I think what you did, coming out here, took a tremendous amount of strength and courage. More than anyone I know, including myself."
His words are meant to comfort me, to make me feel better. People say things like that all of the time in order to make you feel like you did the right thing. Yet somehow, looking back at him, I don't feel like they're just words to him. I honestly think he means them. That doesn't make sense to me though. How can he possibly believe that about me? How can he know something about me that I don't even know about myself?
"I don't know about that," I reply candidly. "I think it was just me being selfish. Wanting to start over with my family to support me."
"That's not selfish, it's smart," he quickly jumps in. "Not to mention, I'm sure you made an entire pros and cons list about coming out here. You probably examined it for months, considered what it would mean for you, for Mia. I'm sure you tried to reason with every single pro of coming here, trying to make them a reality if you stayed. Trying to see if you could find that same sense of hope in New York. But you couldn't. Because something in your gut told you that no matter how many cons were on there about moving back, the pros were greater. There's a reason you're here, Amber. You have to trust that."
He's right. I did have a list. I went over it every fucking day. I tried so damn hard to figure out how I could stay in New York and still stay away from Vince. How I could manage to live a life apart from him, free from his hold, while still down the street. I thought about moving only a few hours away, but the fear that he could show up any day, any moment, consumed me. I feared that his anger would boil over and he wouldn't only take it out on me, but on her. I feared that if I stayed too close, he would still keep his talons in me. I feared that if I didn't have a support system that I would be vulnerable. But I also fear that after everything, I'll lose her. That she'll resent me for taking her from everything. From her friends, her life, her dad.
"Hey," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of my hand, sending a sense of calm throughout me. "Do you think she's been happy being here?"
All of the uncertain voices swirling through my head begin to quiet. She's missed her dad, but I can honestly say that she has been happy. I've seen her smile more here in the last few months than I think I ever have. I slowly nod my head.
"Have you been happy being here?" he asks, searching my eyes for the answer before I give it myself.
I look back at him, focusing on the deep color of his eyes, on the warm feeling of his hand in mine, on the fact that he seems to have taken a step closer though I don't remember when he did. "Yes," I whisper.
"So given everything you know, everything you've gone through in moving here, everything you've experienced while being here, would you do it all over again? Would you still come back out here?"
I don't have to think about that answer for long. I know that every moment I've been here that I've slowly gotten closer to being myself again. I've felt safe to laugh, to joke, to smile. And every single one of those things I have been able to do with the man standing in front of me.
"Yes," I say with certainty. I know that the decision I have made was a difficult one. I know that it comes with consequences. I know that I'm going to have to continue to remind myself of the reasons I did this. But I also know that if I didn't make that decision, I wouldn't be here, in this very moment.
"Then that's your answer. It doesn't matter how many times I tell you how much strength you have. It means absolutely nothing until you can believe it about yourself. You made this decision for a reason, Amber."
I realize that my heart is no longer pounding from my chest, that the insecurities swimming laps in my mind have grown quiet. I stand in front of him, allowing myself to feel the small breeze off the ocean, to feel the pattern he traces against my hand, and the way that damn flutter has yet to leave me.
"Do you really believe that?" I finally question, breaking the silence.
"That you should trust your decision? Yes," he answers with confidence.
"No," I shake my head. "That I'm strong? Courageous?"
He quickly reaches for my other hand, lacing his fingers with mine. "You're the strongest person I've ever met."
I don't have to question him or wonder how much truth is behind his words, because I feel it. I can feel his honesty. I know he truly believes those things about me. Somehow, in the small moments we've interacted, he's been able to see me. The real me. He's found a way to let me be myself. To not be afraid to slowly unleash the girl who has had to hide away for so long.
I subtly, ever so slightly pull at his hand, giving him permission, knowing he'll read the moment perfectly without a single word. And he does. He takes one small step forward before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me tightly against his chest. I don't hesitate or try to pull back. Instead I nestle into his chest, finding comfort and warmth. A feeling I haven't had in the arms of a man in a very long time.
"Blue," I whisper against him.
He doesn't let me go, instead I feel his mouth moving against my hair. "What's that?" he asks.
"Your cape should be blue. Deep, like the ocean," I smile against him, giving into his theatrics. I've noticed his cocky jokes. Ones that he throws out there to test the waters. I usually don't bite, don't give him the satisfaction. But what the hell, I think I might actually be giving into the ridiculous antics that are Tommy Sallow.