Landon

It’d been three days since I’d heard from or seen Zara. I swore I often heard the yipping of a dog that wasn’t there. I smelled passion fruit when I strolled along the beach. I even thought I saw her surfing on a long board while wearing a skimpy white bikini, when in fact it was a tall dude in a wet suit. I was seriously losing my mind.

For whatever reason, Zara felt she needed to stay away from me. And although frustrating, it was completely understandable…and incredibly unfair.

The situation became complicated before it could even become a situation. My intention going into this getaway had been simply to escape my reality, find some peace, and honor my brother’s memory through my writing. Yet I was accomplishing none of the above, and instead replacing my original to-do list from before arriving on Lanai with an entirely new one. What kind of man was I to want to spend time with her, get to know her, devour her, knowing I’d then have to leave her?

Between the two of us, she was most definitely the smarter one.

Since arriving on this tiny island in the middle of nowhere two weeks ago, my geographical location had little to do with the overwhelming loneliness I was feeling. Of course one could argue, what did I expect, taking off all by myself as I had?

Needing someone to connect to, I walked to the northwest corner of Hulopoe Haven as Palu had instructed and dialed my mother’s number for the first time since landing in Lanai.

The moment she answered the call, she blurted out, “Landon!” A crackly tirade of endearments mixed with scolding flew over the phone. The call was on a five-second delay, and it took me saying, “Mom…Mom…Mom” a few times before she stopped speaking.

“Landon,” my mother repeated, on an audible exhale of breath. “Are you there? Please be there. Oh, dear, I hope I didn’t lose him.”

“Mom!”

Pause. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Mom. You need to wait for me to respond before you start speaking again.” Only two minutes in and the conversation was torture, between the bad connection and my mom’s emotional state of mind. “The call is on a delay.”

“Okay.” Long pause.

“Sweetheart.” Long pause.

“I’ve been dying to hear from you.” Long pause.

My heart instantly squeezed from guilt. I’d been adamant in asking my parents to not contact me, assuring them I’d be fine and would check in when I could. It was only then, hearing the longing in her voice, that it hit me how insensitive my request was. I was now her only son, and I had cut her off because of my own self-preservation.

“Hi, Mom. I know I should’ve called sooner, but I am fine.”

“I know you are. It doesn’t make it any less torturous for me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. How’s Dad?”

“He’s great. He’ll want to talk to you also, but me first. Is it heavenly? Are you relaxing? Tell me everything.”

Painstakingly slowly, I filled my mom in on the details of my current residence without revealing my exact location. It had nothing to do with not trusting her, and everything to do with not wanting to put her in a position to lie for me. The longer I stayed away, the more I knew Roger or even others in the business would eventually try to get to me through my parents. Just as I had told my agent, if they truly had no idea where I was, then they weren’t being dishonest.

Silence stretched, and I waited for her to catch up.

“What have you been doing with yourself, Landon? I can’t imagine you sitting around doing nothing.”

“I’ve been reading, writing some, taking in the sights.” Sniffing after a South African beauty like a bloodhound, I added in my mind. “Has Roger bothered you?”

“No. It might have to do with the scolding he received, though.” I laughed at my mother’s words. I could just imagine her reprimanding him over the phone while wagging a finger in the air that he couldn’t see.

“Thanks for indulging me in this insane situation.”

“You’re my son. If you claimed you needed to go to the moon to find peace, I’d support you. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d support you.”

“I know. I appreciate it.”

A long pause stretched between us. I imagined her sitting at the kitchen table while wiping away silent tears, trying hard to not let me hear any sadness during our conversation.

I decided to tell her about Spike, giving her the rundown on how we’d met, how I had renamed him out of pity, and even how we were soulmates. I left out details of his owner, except for saying it was a local woman who didn’t understand the torment she’d inflicted on him by naming him Marshmallow. I shared how he kept reappearing at my door, only for him to be taken home to repeat his attempts at running away.

She laughed at hearing about his love of peanut butter crackers. “You really are soulmates. I’m glad you found each other.”

“Me, too. I love that little guy. I may have to get one of my own when I get back and name him Spike out of principle.”

The next ten minutes were spent chatting with my father. He filled me in on his golf game and my mother’s newest obsession, shopping garage sales. “She finds all this crap, and then donates it to a shelter.”

“It makes her feel good, let her be.”

“Of course I’ll let her be, do you know your mother at all? Like I have a choice.” His grumbling didn’t fool me in the least. Mom amused him in the best of ways. Their relationship had survived the struggles of having a special child, and then the horrors of losing that child. Through it all, they had come out stronger than ever in the end.

“Any closer to convincing her to move to LA?”

His weighted sigh drifted over the phone. “Again, do you know your mother at all?”

“Well, keep trying. I love you, guys. I’ll call again soon.”

“Okay, son. We love you, too. Please be safe.”

He passed the phone back to my mother, and she repeated my father’s words. The call helped me feel a bit better, but it also sparked something else…a need.

For adult conversation, company, affection?

I wasn’t sure what exactly made me grab my keys and head into town to find her.