Page 83 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
“You picked the water bottle,” her mom admonished. “And we agreed you would each get only one souvenir.”
“But the stuffies arecuter.”
“Well, hon, next time you’ll consider waiting, instead of buying the first thing you like.”
An older couple sat near them, smiling fondly at the two little girls, even as they were gripped by some fierce nostalgic blues. Reminiscing, maybe, about when their kids had been that young.
Another young couple sat diagonally from us, wrapped around each other, the way I was coiled around Jackson. But they couldn’t have been more different from us. Because I felt the adoration pouring off them. The contentment. And joy. They were young, and on the vacation of a lifetime, and so in love, they were nearly delirious with it.
And then there was me and Jackson; with him distracted, talking about Kian and Magix, and me holding so tightly to him—clinging on to what we had, as hollow as it was, and wondering if I was strong enough to hold on. To hold us together.
“I was surprised at you, though,” Jackson said to me at one point, giving my back a light, reprimanding tap. “You barely said a word to him. Normally I can’t get you to stop talking to people. I get he’s not your usual charity case type.”
“Charity case type?”
“But I figured you’d like him.”
“I didn’t say I didn’tlike him.”
Truthfully, all I remembered of Kian Reed was his dimpled smile and high-energy personality. Whatever we’d talked about, whatever I’d said or didn’t say, was all mashed up in my head.
“You sure didn’t seem like youdidlike him.” Jackson expelled exasperation in big, radioactive waves.
Exasperation atme.
Because I hadn’t behaved the way he’d expected me to in front of his new friend.
I bristled, but tried—really,reallytried—to keep the hurt out of my voice when I said, “Even if I didn’t like him, at least I was polite, and went over with you to say hello. Which is more than I can say for you.”
Jackson stiffened. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
The fact you call the people I want to talk to “charity cases.” And treat them like they’re lesser riffraff.I gnawed at my lip, keeping the words contained. Those kinds of words would start a fight.
And I wasn’t sure I had the strength for a fight.
“Nothing,” I said instead. “I just wish I’d had time to introduce you to Melany and Sarah. They would’ve loved you.” And I pressed my face into the side of his neck, seeking solace, comfort, hoping he would let it go.
But he was tense and turbulent, and the longer I stayed silent, the rumblier his emotions got.
So I turned away from him, staring at the landscape—what little I could see of it through the fog. I was fed up with this stupid fog. It was oppressive—a dark curtain of depression, snuffing the light out of me.
I wanted to see the sun. The stars. The sky.
I wanted to be away from this island.
I wanted to be home. Safe from this storm teeing up to destroy me.
“Anyway”—Jackson poked my knee, drawing my attention back to him—“I was thinking…you have that black dress with you, right?”
I frowned. “I have a black one with white polka dots.”
“Damn, that’s the only one you brought? I was hoping you had the nicer one with you. The one you wore to the New Year’s party.”
I tried to swallow the irritation clawing up my throat.Tried.“The cocktail dress?”
“Yeah. You look hotin that one.”
“That’s more of a black-tie dress.”
