To the Sea (Follow your Bliss) (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kira
padded out to the deck adjacent to her room. She watched the white crests of
the waves, bright in the moonlight, crashing against invisible rocks hidden in
the darkness on the shore. Shortly after, someone knocked on the door. Kira
went to check in case it had to do with her departure.

Jamie
filled the doorway, his head resting heavily on the frame. Despite logic,
Kira’s stomach flitted with a vision of him shirtless and pulling Kira to him.
But her frustration and disappointment with him quickly squashed the fantasy.

“Hey,”
he said softly.

“Hi,”
Kira replied, not letting him in the suite.

“I
want to talk. Really. Just talk.”

Taken
aback, Kira relented and let him enter, but led him through to the deck—a
neutral playing field, if they were
just
going to talk. No bedroom
temptations or suggestions; knowing him that was what he’d come for. They sat
on the polished teak chairs with Jamie breaking the awkward silence.

“Listen,
I’d like to brush off the thing—back in the Karoo—and say I didn’t mean to hurt
you. Or that it hadn’t occurred to me that if I slept with Amanda you’d get
upset. But it did cross my mind, and I’m sorry to say that the decision to do
what was right didn’t win against my desires.”

Kira
silently commended him for having at least a little depth in the shallows of
his male libido. But she still simmered.

“I’m
the guy that doesn’t stay in one place for more than a few weeks. Who blows in
on a wave, has a good time, and then I'm gone. No consequences, no messes to
clean up, no commitments. That’s what works for me. Or in this case doesn’t
work,” he said ruefully.

Leaning
back, Kira looked out toward the sea, carefully considering his words. “Jamie,
stung, but it didn’t hurt as much as you might think. We weren’t boyfriend and
girlfriend. We were a fling. We were having fun. We were me getting over
something so ugly I wouldn’t wish it on you or Amanda. I think I’m going to be
okay.” Kira let these words settle over them. “But thank you,” she said
following up.

Jamie
looked at her with surprise.

“Thank
you for the good time,” she said with a smirk. “And thank you for inviting me
here, to Africa. It wasn’t what I expected, but it was just what I needed.
Thank you for having the balls to come to me and say what you did. I sort of
thought you’d be getting busy with one of those college girls.”

“I
can’t say I hadn’t thought about it.”

Kira
shook her head at him in disbelief.

“But
tonight, when I was offering the toast, something didn’t feel right. I looked
at you, and I felt off. You worked your sorcery on me witchy woman.”

Kira
laughed.“Me? Witchy woman? Ha!”

“Yeah,
when we first met all I thought was, hey smexy—”

“What?”

“Smart
and sexy.”

“Keep
going…” Kira said accepting the flattery, even though that expression was new
to her.

“But
you’re deep like the ocean. But when I look at you I still think smart,
hot…sex—?”

“Hey,
wait a minute, if you’re here thinking you and I are going to end up in that
bed—”

He
held up his hands in defeat. “Well no, but you can’t blame me for trying. But
really, I just want to clear the air and let you know that sleeping with Amanda
doesn’t reflect on you. I’m still attracted to you—”

Kira
started to cut him off.

“Wait,
I think you should hear this. You’re beautiful. You don’t need some surfer
bloke to tell you that. But me sleeping with Amanda wasn’t because I thought
she was hotter or anything like that. It was just me being an ass. Do you
understand?”

Kira
nodded, deep in thought. Without realizing it, he told her he wasn’t Jeremy.
However, Kira also understood that someday she needed more than flirting and
sex in a relationship. She required honesty and authenticity. Jeremy was an
epic fail, and Jamie was nearly a repeat, but through those experiences, some
act of grace brought her to understand what she wanted and what she was worth.

Kira
and Jamie went on to talk about South Africa, its beauty, the people, and the
surfing.

“The
word amazing just doesn’t do it justice, but I can’t think of another one
except stoke, but that sounds odd when describing a place,” Kira said fully
integrating the surf slang into her vocabulary.

“I
know what you mean. Stoke is a state of mind, but maybe a place too.” He paused
and then continued, “So will you continue to surf? You’re getting really
confident out on the water.”

“Absolutely,
whenever I can. I started at a time when the rest of my life was suspended, if
you know what I mean. But yeah, even when we were in the Karoo, as incredible
as that was, I was longing to get back in the water.”

“You’ve
been bitten by the surf bug,” he teased, laughing. “I won’t be surprised if I
find you somewhere in the world, on one of my trips, totally gone native,
surfing day and night, hair bleached out, and tanned like a coconut.” They both
laughed at the image. “Live free and surf,” Jamie said.

“You
never know. Oh, hey, I have something to show you.” Kira got her camera, and
plugged it into her laptop setting it on the table between them. She flipped
past the ones she’d uploaded of Ian, excitement rising up and dancing in her
belly in a flurry. They looked at the photos she’d taken of Jamie surfing,
chatting much longer than Kira had intended. When the time came for Jamie to
return to his room, they exchanged a hug and nothing more.

“It’s
been good to know you,” Kira said.

“You
too. I hope we see each other again.”

“I
don’t know, globetrotter. Maybe out in the waves,” she said.

Kira
woke to watch the sunrise over the ocean. The energy of the discussion she and
Jamie had the night before lingered like dusty outlines in the chairs on the
deck. Jeremy and Jamie had guided her to knowing what she truly wanted and
deserved in a relationship. Kira could go back home without any loose ends, she
had closure.

Later
that day, she grumbled at the flight desk in the airport, unable to change her
seat. While waiting in the terminal, a tall, tanned figure plopped down next to
her, sunnies perched on his head.

“Did
you try to change the seat?” Jamie asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah,”
she said slightly guiltily, a smile hinting at her lips.

“Me
too.”

“No
luck?” Kira said.

“None.”

“Can
I ask why?” she asked.

“Too
tempting. I thought for sure we’d sleep together last night,” he said in his
flirty Australian accent.

“Disappointed?”
she asked, her mouth hanging open, though she knew she shouldn’t be surprised.

“Disappointed
that we didn’t sleep together last night or that we have to ride back
together?” he asked.

“Both,”
Kira said.

“We
could repeat our flight over and take care of my disappointment,” Jamie said,
unable to hide a grin.

 “My,
you are persistent,” she said turning to face him. Without thinking, she
planted a big, succulent kiss on his lips. “Better?”

“Definitely,”
he said with a smirk.

“That’ll
have to do. It was the last bit of closure I needed for me, and for you, that
was something to remember me by,” she said.

“Oh,
I will,” he said winking. “Mile high club?” Kira punched him in the arm
jokingly.

After
the flight, they hugged goodbye at the airport. Kira sluggishly gathered her
luggage and returned to the Mercedes. She drove with a heavy heart that didn’t
have anything to do with Jamie.

Returning
to the empty house on Lilac Court had a magnetic effect on Kira. All the
emotions she thought she’d processed, but lingered in the shadowy corners,
under the beds, and in the closets of the big lonely house, found their way
back to her as she crossed the threshold. Kira tried to hold in her feelings as
she had that night at the hospital; she tried to summon the peaceful feeling
she’d cultivated in Africa, but sadness and grief poured out of her in a
torrent.

Without
unpacking, Kira crept to bed, and stayed there only to emerge the following day
to go work.

The
week passed as Kira slunk into depression. Like a robot capable of tears, she
managed to get to the office, and then she returned home and cried. She
regressed into an emotional wreck, only this time even worse because her tears
were unwelcome and not understood.

The
only interruption to this pattern occurred when the real estate agent called to
announce she secured a buyer for the condominium in Boston. More time passed
leaving Kira like a fish out of water, not comfortable in her own skin. Slight
relief arrived when she signed the final papers for the sale of the condo. For
a few days, she felt lighter, like she'd shed a burden. Then she returned to
her despondent routine, slogged through files and reports at work, returned to
Lilac Court, and cried her way through nearly sleepless nights.

Hopelessness
darkened her days until her sister called to let her know she’d had the baby,
another girl at nine pounds, nineteen inches, named Viva. Live. On a late
spring day, Kira drove to Connecticut to visit Winter and her growing family.

“You
look terrible. It’s nearly summer Summer, get some sunshine. Why are you
wearing your eyeglasses, you look like a mom with five kids who hasn’t had a
chance to take a shower in a week, and I’m pretty sure that’s not the look
you’re going for.”

“Is
that a bad thing?” Kira asked looking at her sister with frizzy hair and the
baby in her arms.

“Well
no, but it’s the point. It doesn’t look like you’re taking care of yourself.”

“I’ve
lost too many pairs of contacts from crying.”

Winter
looked at Kira imploringly. “You look skinny.”

She
was right, but the topic held particular sensitivity because of their father.
When he became sick, he refused medical care, growing painfully thin. His long
brown hair, like Kira’s, became scraggly and sparse. He likened himself to an
old bear; he just wanted to go out to the woods to return to Mother Nature
peacefully.

“I’m
not sick and I’m not hopeless, not yet,” Kira shot back. Although the magic of
Africa had worn off, she’d developed the habit of speaking honestly. The days
of polite and withholding Kira were gone. Africa, or maybe the confrontation
with Jamie, had awoken part of her who had the strength to speak her mind. She
wasn’t afraid of her voice anymore, but still hadn’t figured out how to
articulate her sadness.

Winter’s
eyes filled with tears.

“Summer,
don’t upset your sister, she’s postpartum. This is a tender time,” Acacia said.

“I
wasn’t meaning to. But she and I dance around the topic of our parents as if
they’re infectious, like if we talk about them the pain will overwhelm us,
possibly even kill us. I’ve been overwhelmed by pain and you know what, the
only way through it, is through it.”

Kira
told Winter about the drum circle, opening the doorway to an honest
conversation. Through two baby feedings, the sisters discussed their parents,
life on the commune, and they wept and laughed in equal measure.

“I
wonder how I’m going to mess this munchkin up?” Winter asked gazing lovingly at
Viva.

“You
won’t mess her up, you’ll just impart upon her—” Kira paused, thinking for the
right word. “Riddles.”

Winter
grinned. “Yeah, riddles she’ll have to decipher, emotional mysteries that’ll
take half her adult life to decode,” Winter said picking up Kira’s meaning as
she rubbed her daughter’s tiny nose with her own.

Kira
shook her head. “I don’t think it’ll be that bad, maybe just a quarter of her
adult life.” They laughed and Kira knew her relationship with her sister would
be okay.

When
she drove back toward Boston, again she felt lighter. Seeing the new baby,
Viva, and having a heart-to-heart with Winter, buoyed her. Kira replayed parts
of the conversation and the insights they offered each other.

As
Kira walked through of her house, she spun back into a sobbing wreck, and
resumed her work, cry, work routine. She felt herself slipping away on a river
of tears and loneliness. 

One
night, as Kira walked past Jeremy’s office, she stood in the doorway looking at
the near empty space. It was like he still occupied the room. Kira stormed in,
grabbed the wooden desk by the edge, and started to drag it to the door. She
struggled, lowering it down the stairs, not caring that she nicked the wall.
She continued through the front door, out to the lawn. This followed with the
empty filing cabinet, his reading lamp, leather chair, and miscellaneous items
from the garage that screamed Jeremy Annandale. She brought out rowing gear and
golf clubs. She scribbled a sign that read,
Tag Sale
, ready to sell
everything for bottom dollar.