JAMESON
I nearly caused a pile up on the half hour drive from Sarasota to Bradenton, stopping every minute to see if I could spot Soph. I drove back and forth along each street in my neighborhood, scanning every shadow and person in hopes of catching her. She wasn’t anywhere. She wasn’t on the beach, near the hotel, in my neighborhood. My next stop was her aunt’s house.
Pulling along the curb, it was a haunting reminder of Soph’s life. Peaceful, destroyed, and still beautiful. I remembered the first time I ever drove there, when I forced her to come to the beach with us. It was just a month ago, but felt like an entirely different life from which we had already been reincarnated. We had become entirely different people, both losing and gaining each other’s innocence and fears. If I don’t find her soon, I might lose my mind.
I wasn’t underestimating her; I knew she was entirely capable of functioning in this violent world. It was just that I didn’t want her to function alone. She needed someone; she needed me and I wanted her.
Like the creeper I had become, I entered the shambled home in the vain hope she might be inside. I never did get an answer to my question of what happened earlier within those walls. A million ideas ran through my head. Was it something bad? Something dangerous? Did someone say something? Did Soph say or do something? Was she hurt? And I couldn’t fathom it being something good if Elizabeth and Soph wouldn’t simply provide an answer. But I couldn’t even begin thinking about anything from the hotel because it made my heart crumble from guilt. We had made it through the hurricane, but this storm was worse. It threatened us from the inside.
The ceiling was dangling, heavy from water and threatening to collapse, so I clung to the wall while walking in the narrow hallway toward Soph’s room. The door was open, revealing the diorama of a beach within the confines of her sacred space. Clothes were scattered, soiled and damp, as well as everything that defined Soph. Her history had been destroyed in one day. Everything she brought from Oregon, everything she owned in Florida; all of it was obliterated. My chest began to heave, my heart filling with anger toward whatever higher power continued to battle against my precious love.
She wasn’t there. She would never go back there. I wouldn’t allow it. She doesn’t need to feel the hurt of seeing her life literally upside-down, taunting her. I jumped over the puddles, avoiding the loose wires that threatened my life while resting in the water, and started to frantically search through Soph’s belongings. I needed to find something tangible for her to remember her life, to keep her memories alive.
The small bookcase to the left of her shattered bedroom window was leaning forward, book spines beginning to slip off in distress. There were some soggy paperback books. I had no idea she read so much. Jane Eyre, To Kill A Mockingbird, Rebecca, JD Salinger’s Nine Stories, a Winston Churchill biography…she has quite the variety of taste. My sweet Soph.
I imagined how often she would read, which I assumed was a lot because she was so reclusive, and I found myself smiling at the daydream of us sitting together on a beach in the Gulf or under a canopy in Oregon, reading. She could lay on me, take a nap, I could read to her. I had to pull myself together and get out of there because I was running out of lingering daylight left to find Soph. I scanned the spines, searching for…a photo album. It was barren but for four photographs: a baby picture of Soph in a swing, and three other pictures of Soph with a woman almost as beautiful as her. In each frame, their smiles were blindingly radiant and full of hope.
Having what I needed, with the exception of my actual girlfriend, I left Soph’s house and began searching the strip of downtown where I knew she might be comfortable on a night like this because she was familiar with the area.
There were people out, despite half of the businesses being torn apart. Our ice cream shop was there, holding strong and full of families. People were walking down the sidewalks as though we hadn’t just had a hurricane. Just like people at the hotel pool.
I kept my eyes focused, looking for something to signal her presence and my eyes lit up with emotion when I saw Olivia exit a storefront, Owen slow to follow her. I jumped from my car, barreling down the sidewalk toward Owen and Olivia. They were bound to one another, desperately clinging to each other while walking down the street; something I could never do with Soph while living there. But it’s not a secret anymore. I love her. I should be able to hold her. She should be snuggling my arm just like Olivia is doing with Owen. We should be able to walk down the street like them. But we couldn’t, not as long as Bellini was trying to get to us.
“Owen.” I stepped in front of them, causing Olivia to jump.
Her sweet face faded into torment before she pulled from Owen’s side and her knee came up to my groin. It was a pathetic kick, but still did the trick and forced the air from my lungs while I bent over.
“Jesus, Liv,” Owen snapped, holding back his laughter, “You have to stop doing that to people!”
“What the hell, Olivia?”
“Don’t make me do it again, Jameson,” she snarled at me, a finger pointing in my face. “Because I will.”
“Trust her, dude.” Owen laughed.
I watched Olivia’s temper flare, her protection of Soph evident in the wiggling finger inches from my nose. Pulling my hands from their shielding position below my waist, I lifted them in defeat.
“Olivia, stop. Please. I’m not here to cause trouble. I need to talk to you about Sophia.”
“Sure you do.” Her head shook.
I was shocked, but not surprised. Olivia was never this angry, never this punitive. As far as she knew, had Soph kept our secret, I was a dick who abandoned Soph. Of course Soph kept your secret, you twisted idiot. You sound like Thomas.
“Listen,” I tried to get her attention, watching her hands ball into tiny fists at her side. “…I can’t find her.”
“Stalk someone else, Jameson Burke.”
“Liv,” Owen turned to her. “Let him talk. Cripes, girl.”
Olivia glanced at Owen, her mouth gaping, “Are you kidding me? Were you not there helping me get Sophia home after this jerk tossed her aside like crap left out here from the hurricane? Owen, seriously! It was you who slept between us on her bed because she was a hot mess. Remember?”
My eyes heatedly lifted toward Owen, turning from hazel to a bright, envious green. I couldn’t imagine him sleeping in bed with Soph. To be with her while she slept was something sacred, something intimately protected. I know he did it as a friend, but the idea still boiled my temper.
“I remember being a good friend,” Owen interrupted Olivia’s rant, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I remember I had no idea what was going on between Sophia and Jameson and helping her when he was a jerk. But I also haven’t talked to Jameson since the day after that, so who knows what has been going on, Liv?”
“What’s been going on, Jameson?” Olivia’s foot was now furiously tapping against the sidewalk. She was a pistol, just like Soph.
“Have you seen her?” I questioned, battling in my mind with what I could discuss with Owen and Olivia without divulging too much. I was so over hiding.
“Maybe.” Olivia impassively stared at me.
Owen’s hands uncomfortably pulled from her shoulders and wiggled into his pockets while he watched our silent exchange. My heart warmed at how angry Olivia was with me, how protective she was of my sweet Soph, but then I understood why she had such rage toward me and, again, my heart broke.
“She was with me during the storm,” I whispered. “We were together this morning and she left.”
“So are you two…are you two together?” Owen inquired, eyeing me questionably.
“I thought so,” I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, filling with nerves. “Look, I can’t explain everything right now. I just need to find her. It isn’t safe for her out here alone.” Shit.
“What the hell do you mean?” Olivia’s voice was slow and deliberate.
“She doesn’t know Bradenton like we do. It’s getting dark. This place is a looter’s paradise. She doesn’t have her bike.”
“We saw her,” Owen admitted. “We found her by your neighborhood. She was looking for her aunt. Couldn’t find her either, so we took Sophia for dinner.”
“Then what?” I looked at Olivia, pressing her with my stare in hopes she would drop her anger and just admit where Sophia was.
She sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat. “She didn’t let us follow her, but she went to some place near the beach.”
What is near the beach? My cove?
“She said,” Owen looked at Olivia before turning back to me, “she needed to think and knew of some spot that was safe. She promised she’d get back to her aunt’s before it was too dark. She’s smart, Jameson. She won’t be anyone’s victim.”
“Besides…” Olivia smiled. “We helped her steal her aunt’s car.”
“Olivia!” Owen groaned, shaking his head with widened eyes. “Shut up.”
***
I sped like a crazed whack job, weaving through traffic at dusk. My brakes slammed against the emergency lane, flashers violently glowing while I climbed from the car and onto the gravel. The car parked twenty feet ahead of mine must have been her aunt’s. If she told Owen the truth, Soph’s safe place was my safe place. Well, it was my safe place before she became my safe place. I climbed down the dune, my heart pounding through my ribcage. All breathing, pumping blood, conscious thought, all of it, stopped the moment I stepped onto the sand and saw her. My mouth gaped, unable to talk, entirely mesmerized by her.
“It hasn’t changed since you brought me here the first time,” she whispered, noticing my entry from her periphery. “Even after the storm.”
I hesitantly approached, unsure of her body language. She was balled up, her arms wrapped around her legs and her small chin resting against her knees as she stared out at the water. I wanted to pull her into my lap and rest my head on her shoulder, staring at the same peaceful waves as Soph.
In one regard, she looked entirely carefree while she studied the horizon, but I knew inside she felt caged and trapped, void of the freedom her heart deserved. I joined Soph at the edge of the cove, my feet pressing into the sand.
“But so much else has.” Soph looked up at me, her soft blue eyes full of swollen pain, tears threatening the rims of her eyelids. “What took you so long?”
“I’m stubborn,” I sighed, studying her cautiously. “And I needed to get gas.”
I was washed with relief when Soph’s head rested against my shoulder and a soft giggle escaped her lips.
“I used to feel like nothing was behind me when sitting here,” I continued. “But now I’m in this weird place.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everything is next to me now.” My eyes drifted toward hers, nervous of her reaction. “My past, the present, our future…”
I waited for her head to move, but she didn’t. Her breathing stopped—I felt it. I pulled my eyes away, worried I had overstepped, and stared at the waves. I wanted to pull my hands along my face in frustration. I’d overstepped. I’m scaring her again. I lifted a hand to scratch my head, but Soph’s clenching grasp tightened around my wrist, pushing it from my head with such a force that I considered a potential sprain. The wind was knocked from my chest once my back slammed against the sand, but the pain was nothing compared to the exultant feeling of Sophia straddling my waist. Her hands pinned me down at my biceps, and I could feel their insecure tremble.
“You say our like you mean it.” Her lips quivered, those haunting eyes scanning mine as though I had every answer to any question she would ever seek.