Ally

“I’m going to take my lunch break now.” I look up at the clock to see it reads ten minutes to three. I always have a late lunch break, something about the afternoon sun has an effect on me.

Cynthia looks up from the trolley of returned books she is stacking back onto the shelves. I work in the local library where I have been for a few years. There is something about working here which grounds me. I know it may sound weird, but the history and love stories which lie between the pages of the books lining the shelves, lets me get lost in a different world, even if it’s only for a brief time.

“Okay.” She shrugs her shoulders, her voice snapping me out of my head.

I like Cynthia, but it’s not like we’re friends. She doesn’t talk much either. It’s kind of comfortable, she seems to always be in her own world also.

“I can bring you back a muffin if you want,” I smile. I’m not sure why I asked that. I’ve never really talked to her before, unless it had to do with work

“That would be great. Thanks, Ally.” She smiles back at me.

“No problem.”

Feeling a bit out of my comfort zone, I turn and head to the desk to grab my bag.

“Ally?” She speaks from behind me causing me to startle and my heart to beat faster

Shit, get it together, Ally! I take a few deep breaths before turning around to face her. I notice the wide-eyed look she is giving me.

“Sorry,” she apologizes.

“It’s fine, I just didn’t expect you to be there.” I shake my head at my over-reaction.

“I just thought you might want to grab a coffee after work today?”

My first instinct is to tell her no, but when I look into her eyes again, I see a touch of sadness there. Something inside me shifts and maybe a coffee wouldn’t be so bad. I know she recently moved here from Queensland and she doesn’t really know anybody. What harm could come from one coffee?

“Sure, sounds like a great idea.” I feel my stomach twist at the idea of allowing anybody in, but I can’t keep shutting people out. A friend is probably exactly what I need. It doesn’t mean I have to give her my life story. A huge smile spreads across her face and it makes me happy to see she’s excited to have coffee with me.

“We’ll work out the details when you get back from your break.”

“Sounds great.” I head out the door as a feeling of lightness washes over me.

Taking the concrete steps down to the sand, I reach the bottom and slip off my ballet flats. Holding them in my hand, I scrunch my toes in the soft warm sand and let the feeling of calmness flow through me. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and let the warm summer sun soak into every pore while I breathe the salt air in. I always feel at peace at the beach, I’m not sure if it’s the air, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks or a combination of everything. I always remember the times my father brought me to the beach when I was young. We’d build sandcastles, explore the rock pools and swim in the rolling waves. It was like nothing could touch us while we were here, everything in the world settled and calmed. My father was always a happy man, but when we were near the water he seemed relaxed and carefree.

“I miss you dad,” I whisper into the slight breeze as it floats around me.

I feel closer to him when I’m here. Bending down I pick up a shell which is buried in the sand, Lifting it to eye level, I watch as the sun bounces off the water droplets which drip from the edge. My hair is lifted by the breeze and dances around me. That’s when I feel it and my skin prickles. It’s as if someone is watching me, it’s the same feeling every time I come down here.

I look over my shoulder and see a man sitting on one of the old wooden benches. I can’t make him out, he’s too far away, but I can tell by the way the hairs on my arm stand on end, it’s the same man I see every time I come here.

Dropping the shell, I rub my arms as goosebumps breakout across my skin. Turning back to the water, I try to shake off the strange feeling which has settled in the pit of my stomach. I take a few steps forward and let the cool water rush over my toes, calming me. After a few moments, I look down at my watch and notice I have been out here for almost forty-five minutes. Shit, I need to get back to work. I can’t believe how time flies when I’m here.

Turning, I make my way back up the beach towards the stairs. Once I get to the top I rinse the sand off my feet and head back to the library. I’ll stop at a local cafe along the way and grab two muffins and coffees for Cynthia and me to have for afternoon tea. Swinging my shoes in one hand, giving my feet time to dry, I get the strange feeling of eyes on me again. I glance over my shoulder, but nobody is there. Shaking it off, I keep going I don’t want to be late.

A few more hours of work pass and it’s finally time to head home. I’m grabbing my bag when Cynthia walks over to the desk to grab her stuff.

“Are you still wanting to grab a coffee?” I hear the hope in her voice and feel bad that she thought it was such a hardship on me.

“Of course, on my way back from lunch I spotted a little cafe called The 3 Monkeys. I haven’t been there before and it’s just down the road.”  

“That sounds perfect.” She reaches past me and grabs her belongings.

“Thank God, it’s Friday.” She laughs and I nod, agreeing with her.

“What would you usually do on a Friday night?” Cynthia asks as we head out the door.

I try to think what a normal Friday night for me is like and guess I’m a little ashamed to admit, I don’t really do much.

“I usually just stay at home, get take out and curl up in bed with my Kindle.”

“Damn, this friendship might work after all!” She giggles and I laugh at her reaction

“Why, what do you do?”

“Pretty much what you said, but with a side of wine.”

“Well, I don’t drink.” I shrug, not sure what to say and not ready to give her a reason as to why I don’t drink.

“Well, I can drink enough for the two of us, no worries at all.” She laughs and I laugh again. She has a laugh which makes you join in and it also makes me feel lighter. I never really took much notice of her before, but she is really pretty. She has a pixie little face with black framed glasses which showcase honey colored eyes and beautiful shoulder length dark brown hair.

Strolling down the street towards the café, we pass a few businesses which have closed up for the day. We stop to look into a couple of windows to see what they have and I notice a beautiful lace dress which is absolutely stunning.

As we continue to walk, we chat about random things such as what we like to eat and so on. When we near a tattoo shop, Cynthia looks at me and then at the front door of the shop. I keep walking, not interested in going in there. Needles scare the shit out of me and I couldn’t imagine allowing someone to push one into my skin unless it was a medical emergency. I couldn’t think of anything worse.

“Hey, wait up!”

I look back and realize how far ahead I am.

“I’m guessing you don’t like tattoos.” She’s panting a little after having to run to catch up.

“Oh, I love tattoos. I think there are some amazing artworks, it’s the needle part I have an issue with.” I laugh nervously.

“It doesn’t hurt as bad as people think.”

“You have a tattoo?” I sound surprised. She doesn’t seem like the type of person who would have one, but then again, I don’t really know her.

“I have a few actually. In places where I can cover them up if I need to and some in places where I don’t have to watch.” She slides her watch aside and shows me a gorgeous, colorful butterfly.

“Oh wow, that’s beautiful.” I grab her hand to take a closer look the wings which are scattered with oranges and reds with pink mixed in.

“Yeah, I got it when I was eighteen. I have more, but I don’t think taking my shirt off in public would be a good idea.”

“Um yeah, probably not,” I laugh with her.

“Come on let’s have that coffee and maybe I can talk you into getting one for yourself one day,”

“Hmm, I don’t see that happening so don’t hold your breath.”

She links her arm through mine and we laugh as we head to the cafe a couple of stores down.

“You would be amazed at how freeing it can be. If you find something you really like, that you could deal with for the rest of your life. Having it on me, I can look at it and remember a specific time in my life that I never want to forget or, simply having a quote written on me which builds me up when I’m having a bad day.” She looks at me and I notice a touch of sadness in her eyes.

It grips something in me, I know exactly what she means.

She shakes her head as if erasing her thoughts “Does that sound weird to you?”

“No, it makes perfect sense.”

I nod, completely agreeing with her. I get it. I get what she means and maybe, just maybe, it might be what can help me too.