Page 43 of Even After Sunset

I straighten again, then I just stand there for a while, watching Silas; wishing I knew what weight dragged him out of his sleep. Or why he felt the need to seek solitude at five in the morning when he’s already such a lone soldier during the rest of his waking hours.

I start walking again, but instead of veering right off the walkway toward the pier—toward Silas, I head left into the small town instead. Nothing will be open on the boardwalk yet, but maybe in town I’ll have better luck finding somewhere to get a coffee. Because it may have only been three days, but it’s still long enough for me to have learned that trying to deal with Silas before a strong cup of coffee is a bad idea.

I eventually find a small 24-hour convenience store slash coffee shop slash smoke shop. And I’m heading back in the direction of the beach just ten minutes later, balancing two large coffees and a bag of stale danishes.

The sand that seeps into my flip-flops when I reach the beach is warm and sugary-soft. It feels like home and it makes me wonder what Meryl and Richard are doing right now. Or Xavier and Sebastian and the rest of my friends.

Sleeping, I guess. No one else I know would be up at five-twenty on a summer weekday morning.

I squint up at the sky, which has lightened to pinks and golden yellows. The light brushing against the boardwalk stilts casts long shadows across the sand, and they ripple and blur every time the waves lap up and then retreat into the ocean. It’s sort of hypnotic.

Silas is still sitting against the same post. His legs are pulled up and one arm rests casually on his knee, the other one holding that stupid cigarette. Probably not even the same cigarette from a few minutes ago. Probably a new one.

He must hear me approaching because he cranes his neck to look over his shoulder. His muscles stiffen when he sees that it’s me, and I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt.

His hair looks darker in this light; his eyes, a more bluish-grey tinge. He scans me with an expression that’s unreadable. Not angry exactly, but also not like he’s happy to see me.Definitelynot that.

“Hey,” I say, but he doesn’t answer.

I lean down and twist one of the cups into the sand next to him. “Coffee… If you want it. ”

I set the bag on the sand beside it.

“And danishes that look like they were probably made sometime last week.” I toe at the bag with my flip-flop. “But they’re chocolate-filled, so you know… they can’t be that bad.”

He looks down at my offerings and nods. He still doesn’t say anything, though.

I wrap both hands around my coffee and take a long, slow sip. I swallow.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” I motion with my chin toward the horizon. Silas grunts in agreement.

Apparently, he’s back to the mono-syllabic responses. His mood swings are almost dizzying.

“The colors seem more orange than back home.” I continue, desperate to fill the quiet.

There’s no response at all this time, and I drop my gaze to study him. He’s staring off into the distance—not looking atanything,really. He looks exhausted, to be honest.

“Have you been awake long?”

He shrugs. “A while.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes, but geez, talk about evasive. Maybe I should have just left him alone once I saw he hadn’t run away. He clearly wants to be left alone. But I stand there for another few minutes, sipping my coffee and toeing at the sand with the end of my flip-flop—hopingmaybe his mood will start to thaw.

Once I’ve downed the last dregs of caffeine, I give in. I roll my shoulders.

“Well, um… I guess I’ll get back, then.”

I turn and start walking, because I know better than to expect a response. But his gruff voice interjects.

“It’s fine, Jax,” he mumbles. “You don’t have to go.”

I stop.

He just called me Jax.

Again.

I take a breath and turn slowly to face him.

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