Amy
My mom was losing her mind.
After a fitful night of sleep, she barged into my room at eight thirty and declared we go shopping for my dorm. I had groaned and rolled over, hoping I was dreaming, and tried to go back to sleep. No luck with that.
So here I was, looking at comforter sets at Bed Bath & Beyond. Shoot me now.
“Mom, we really don’t have to do this now. I was planning on shopping the last two weeks.”
She waved me off. “No. You are not going off to college and doing everything last minute,” she said, putting a hideous green comforter in the basket.
“Mom—” I began.
She ignored me and continued down the next aisle.
I groaned. I needed coffee. This was the last thing I wanted to be doing right now. I slowly followed her down the aisle. Now she was in the candle section going on about keeping my dorm aroma “friendly.” I tuned her out as I smelled different candles. For the most part, they all smelled horrible. I sighed as I felt a headache forming. Great.
I walked farther down and thought about the previous night. It had definitely been different than my typical evening. Never before had I sat alone on the beach with a stranger. I hadn’t been afraid, though; I was just surprised with myself, wondering why I hadn’t just left. It was ironic that he had always spent his summers here while I spent my summers in Florida (up until John joined the family two years ago). That explained why I had never seen him before. I guessed that he had skipped the last few summers.
I turned my focus back on my mom and found the cart almost full with stuff. I blinked, biting my tongue. There were five candles now in the basket. I took each out, smelling them. I almost gagged when I got to the last one.
“Mom,” I said sternly. “Stop it.”
“All of this. The moving boxes, the candles, the constant muttering. I know what you’re doing, so stop guilt-tripping me. I said I was sorry, and I’m trying to give you space. If you want me to go ahead and pack my bags now, I’ll spend my summer in Chicago. Just say the word and I will.”
I started putting the candles back on the shelf. My mom just stood there, staring at me. Maybe I had been too harsh, but she needed to hear it.
She sighed quietly, then walked away from me and out of the store. I pushed the cart toward the front of the store and saw my mom pulling out of the parking lot. I pressed my hand to my head, hating myself. I took the comforter out of the basket and held it up.
“I hate green,” I mumbled.
Two miles later, I sat at the café off the beach. It was only ten in the morning and everyone’s day was just beginning while I sat wishing mine was ending.
I watched Paul make his way across the beach, talking to three girls. They giggled once he turned away. I scanned the beach for Obnoxious Guy. He wasn’t there, and I thought about the night before again.
I still wondered why I had sat down with him, as if I had known him for more than just a day. I didn’t understand why he tested my patience. I could tell he got satisfaction out of making people squirm by staring at them intensely. Little did he know who he was messing with.
I sipped my coffee and racked my brain for some explanation. I came up short and gave up. As I watched the water calmly crashing the shore, performing its daily routine, I figured it out. It was comfort that I found within his eyes.