Page 8 of Barefoot Dreams
Quietly, I make my way down the narrow staircase, my feet moving on autopilot to avoid all the squeaky boards that are still there a decade and a half later. The walls all over are lined with pictures of our family. The furniture is well-lived in, and the hardwood floors still bare the marks I’ve made on them as a kid.
Isabella and Andrew Owling wouldn’t be caught dead installing hardwood flooring in their house but seeing as it was already here when they bought the house, they promised to never harm the poor trees again. So the floor stays. Until their last breath.
And knowing my parents, they most likely have it in their will that I never tear it out either.
But I don’t think I would either way. There’s something about the familiarity of it all that soothes all those ragged bumps and bruises inside me.
Each of the scuff marks bear the memories. The good and the bad.
I close the door behind me and take a step. Then another one and one more.
I’ve been home for three days, but I haven’t actually left the house itself—not once. I couldn’t bring myself to do that.
Shame…I think that’s what I can call this feeling plaguing me. Suffocating me. Making me feel like I don't deserve to come out. Shame for so many things. For hating my hometown, for leaving without ever looking back but crawling back to it like a wounded animal when I had nowhere else to go. For despising my parents when they expressed their opinion about my choices.
For shutting them out afterward.
For that mission…damn that fucking mission.
But I need to keep moving. That’s what I promised Caleb. That’s what we all promised to each other before every mission. That no matter what, we’d keep living and we’d have to live the life one or—God forbid—more of us no longer couldn’t.
Only if it wasn’t so damn hard to do. Only if I wasn’t so lost. So uncertain of the next step.
Quietly, I keep walking without looking up, just putting one foot in front of the other across the pebbled walkways, however I know exactly where they are taking me. To our hill.
Loverly Cave is made up of the vast, cold, and angry ocean on one side, and tall, imposing green top mountains on the other. It’s in those mountains Callum and I always found solace. For Luke it was the ocean, he and his whole family loved surfing, and we’d indulge him seeing as he’d always come out hiking with us. Groaning and moaning the entire way but he did it anyway.
I wonder if that grumpy fucker has changed at all in these years. Does he have a family? Did he let down his walls low enough after his teenage breakup to let someone else in?
I have a feeling that isn’t the case, and as we already know myfeelingsare usually right…
Within minutes I’m standing at one of the hills that has the perfect vantage point to see the whole of Loverly Cave. At the very edge—or the beginning as some liked to say—stands the Loverly Cave itself. It’s arch-like and huge, towering over the whole left side of the beach. The locals believe it’s magical and if you tie the knot underneath it your union will be blessed by the universe or tiny cave creatures or whatever else they believe in.
My friends in school always said it was a load of crap, and I agreed. I’ve always agreed with them, but…is it? Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter what it can or can’t do. Not to me, anyway.
From there, the whole town sprawls out and kept going, stretching across the cold beach.
It wasn’t big—only around three thousand people lived here—but they are a loud and ruckus bunch, making it seem like every crack is brimming with life. They like to live a colorful life, and the streets of my hometown are a clear example.
Every curved street, nook, and cranny is lined with colorful buildings. From yellow to pink, green, orange, and all the shades in between, none are plain white or beige. That would be considered blasphemy over here. Not that I can see them very well in the dead of the night, but in a few hours or so this crazy world will wake up.
I sit down, my hands propped on my knees as I stare out into the never-ending stretch of the ocean, the stars and the moon shining brightly onto the dark waters, and not for the first time I wonder just what am I supposed to do with my life now.
How do I fit into this world when there’s not a single colorful streak left inside me…?
I was so eager to leave here at eighteen. Angry at the world, at myself, and everyone around me. Angry that nothing made sense, and I needed it to finally make sense.
Air Force gave me some purpose. It helped to center my thoughts, but now I am out and lost once again.
Was coming back here a mistake? Maybe I should’ve gone to New York to see Luke. Maybe that would’ve been better.
But even as I considered that option, I knew it was never an actual option because my heart stayed in Loverly Cave, and even sixteen years away from here couldn’t tear it away.
Slowly, the world starts waking up, casting the sky in that beautiful shade of orange and pink, blended so perfectly, I have to suck in another sharp breath at the sight.
I haven’t watched the sunrise for a long time. Just as I haven’t watched the fire burning or the birds taking off into the sky.
Damn, it’s so similar…so beautiful and similar and now I can’t take my eyes off it. I watch it, mesmerized, until the orange coloring fades, giving way to blue, cloudy skies.
