Page 12 of Kissing the Beach Town Fire Chief
Waking with a start and now wide awake, I can't seem to shake this woman out of my thoughts. That brief encounter left me feeling torn between regret and defiance. Now, a different unfamiliar confusion takes over me, pitting my mind and heart against each other.
I ponder these thoughts of Ami as I sip my coffee, and when nothing seems to help me feel settled, I decide to step out for some fresh air. Maybe seeking solace in the cool sea breeze and soothing sunset will help me find clarity. I head towards the beach with my jacket slung on my right arm, humming a soft tune, my footsteps slow and contemplative.
As the shore comes into view my eyes widen in surprise as I spot Ami standing there … as if fate has orchestrated an encounter.What is this, karma… or just some strange sort of luck?
Her long dark hair drifts sideways in the wind, tugging my attention the way it always has. She strolls the shoreline like she owns it, lost in thought as she skips stones in the surf. She’s completely unaware of me… or so I think, so I creep closer, agrin tugging at my lips. I’m already picturing the startled look I’ll get when I say her name. But she turns before I can, catching me in the act, her hand still poised mid-throw like she’s deciding whether to let that stone fly at me instead.
“Oh hey! you’re here too!” she exclaims, her eyes mirroring my surprise, but then a gentle smile spreads across her face, and she beckons me over with a wave of her hand. Feeling a sense of ease, I walk closer. The sound of the waves and the wind fills the space between us. With each gentle lap of the water against the shore, the sand slips away, and for a moment, it’s as if our earlier tension has slipped away as well.
Ami breaks the peaceful silence as she extends her closed fist towards me.
“Look what I found!” Her eyes sparkle as she unfurls her hand, revealing a delicate white seashell nestled in her palm.
“Remember when we used to race to find these shells?” She gazes up at me, a radiant smile spreading across her face.
I suddenly find myself back in our youth.
“Hey, look at my seashells! They’re so pretty!” eight-year-old Ami exclaims, proudly displaying her treasure to me. I scoff, not bothering to look up at her, and continue decorating my sandcastle, adding another floor to make it taller than Ami's castle.
“They’re not pretty. I’ve seen better ones.” I boast rightfully, finally looking up at her with a smirk.
"You're just jealous, Ethan." Ami shoots back and turns around.
"I am not jealous. I'll show you that I can find more seashells than you." I stand up, trying to argue.
A smile appears on her chubby face. Her gaze darts down the shore, and she points at it excitedly.
“Okay, then, let's race there and find out who collects more and wins.” As soon as she says it, both of us dash towards thatside of the shore. Our little legs running as fast as they can. Our shouts and laughter fill the air as we search for the prettiest seashells.
Shaking my head, the memory hangs in the air, a sweet reminder of simpler times, and for a moment, it feels like no time has passed at all. I smile back softly, reaching for the seashell and holding it up in my hand, caressing it gently and with delicacy as if instead of a shell, it’s that memory itself. "I remember it," I say softly, my gaze rising to meet hers.
“You loved being competitive,” she says with a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. I admit out loud that I still do, and she laughs as we start walking along the shore.
"See, I still know quite a few things about you,” Ami remarks, her words piercing my conscience, making me feel shameful of our morning encounter.
“Ami, I’m sorry about how I acted earlier." My eyes cast downward, I’m unable to meet her gaze. “I was tired and frustrated and didn’t want to talk …” I trail off, but she interrupts me.
“No, it’s okay, I get it,” she says, looking up at me with a warm smile.
“You were right, it’s not a war, and I had no right to come at you like that. I’m sorry, too.”
Her sheepish grin disarms me, and I’m taken aback by how easily we apologize to each other. Being in her company is a hundred times better when we’re not gnawing at each other’s throats. The thought brings a smile to my face.
“I think we should just focus on our own campaigns and let the voters decide,” I suggest, feeling a sense of relief when Ami nods in agreement. So we continue walking together, reminiscing past memories and catching up. The tension between us is replaced by a sense of mutual respect and understanding. It feels good.
****
It’s two days later when Ami shows up again at my door. I had gotten her text the night before wanting to talk about something related to the town’s problems. I love to just unwind at home on my days off, so I really didn’t want to trek outside. I asked her to come over to talk, so here she is, sitting in my backyard and talking over some sweet tea. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” I ask finally.
“Remember that day at the beach?” I nod as a gesture for her to continue.
She takes a deep breath before beginning. "After you left, I stayed behind beachcombing and brainstorming campaign ideas when I ran into a family there. They looked upset so I asked about it and I found out they were actually looking for a house.”
"Don't they have plenty of rental houses available around the beach area?” I furrow my eyebrows, unsure of where the conversation is leading.
Ami sets down her tea, her expression serious.
"Exactly what I said, but apparently, they are too expensive for a middle-class family. They said they heard that with the town’s election there’s going to be some redevelopment, and those houses will be taken down anyways.” It finally clicks as to why she’s here and what she wants to talk about.
