Page 98 of Ten Day Affair
The ocean is loud this afternoon. It's windier than it’s been all week. The soft sand above the high-tide waterline kicks up with every gust and sticks to my legs.
I walk in the opposite direction of her house at first, knowing if I were to walk by now, it would be obvious, and quite frankly, pathetic.
The beach is mostly empty, which is nice. A kid and his dad fly a kite a little further up, while a runner passes me, jogging in the opposite direction.
The wind on my face is a welcome breath of fresh air, literally. This is exactly what I needed.
After about fifteen minutes, I turn around and head back. The sun is at my face in this direction, so I pull my hat a little lower to shade my eyes.
Instead of stopping when I get to my house, I keep walking. I look up at her house out of habit, and there she is, sitting on the deck. She has her elbows on her knees and a glass of wine cradled between both hands.
Her hair’s loose, blowing across her face. She sees me before I call out and straightens slightly, but doesn’t move.
I raise a hand. “Hey, Sam. Mind if I come up?”
She stares at me for a second. Then takes a sip of her wine.
“Last time you didn’t ask.”
I smile. I think she's joking, but she's not smiling, so I pause.
“Joking with you. Of course. I’m just sitting here wallowing in my complicated life.”
“I have a knack for interrupting perfectly good solo meditations.”
She nods once. “Indeed, you do.”
I take the rest of the stairs slowly, stopping when I reach the top. I don’t sit until she tips her chin toward the empty chair beside her.
I ease down.
Neither of us says anything for a moment. Just the sound of waves and wind and some gull screaming overhead.
I glance over, but she’s staring straight ahead.
“You said you wanted to talk earlier. Is everything okay? You said you were heading over, and then I didn't hear anything.”
She nods, but still doesn’t look at me.
“I did.”
I wait, even though every part of me is braced and ready for impact. Shedid. Does that mean, in the present tense, she no longer does? She shifts her weight slightly, then finally turns her head. Her eyes are glassy and sharp all at once. I can tell she's been crying.
“You dodge my questions and offer half-truths all week with me, but you had no problem telling my dad we fucked. What the fuck, Cole?”
The words hit like a slap. I flinch, barely.
“I didn’t say it like that,” I manage, knowing nothing I could say would negate that. She's exactly right.
"What did you say? Why were you talking about my sex life with my father?"
"Nothing. He confronted me after the vote. I was caught off guard."
“You must've said something, because he told me you told him. Whatever you said made him think so,” she snaps.
I take a deep breath, searching for how to respond. My shoulders are tense, and I suddenly have the urge to stand up and walk around, to move. But I stay planted, letting her get it out. I didn't deny it to Samuel. I couldn't.
"I didn’t say anything disrespectful about you. Hell, I didn’t even confirm it. He asked me point blank, and I didn't know how to respond, so I said nothing.”
