Page 33 of Memories By the Shore
I enjoy being around her, and I refuse to let it steal the joy I feel now. And for someone like me who has battled depression for the last few years, it’s energizing being around someone I don’t have to mask.
“I know. It’s extremely casual,” I lie. There is nothing casual about how infatuated I’ve become with her.
The bell to the shop door chimes. Easton heads onto the floor to help the two employees already there.
My dad sighs like he does when he’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear. He leans forward and bends one leg over the other. “I would hate for you to get too involved andtrigger an episode when she leaves.”
He’s seen me through some rough times these last few years. I can’t remember the first time I realized what I was going through wasdepression. The first time my body turned itself off, I felt confused and alone. I wondered why I was hit with this sort of numbness that I couldn’t shake. It was an overpowering and painful sensation that came out of nowhere.
“Thanks, but it will be fine.”
“You’ve said that before,” he softly argues.
“I know, but I’m learning to deal with it,” I say, rotating to give him back, hoping to drop this conversion.
“Are you still taking a break from your meds?” my dad asks as if I’m a child. I get a flash of irritation because I’m not a child anymore.
“I am.” I rise from my seat. He’s not going to let this go that easily. I slap a hand on his shoulder. “Look, the meds will always be there. If I feel like losing control, I can start them up again.”
He sighs. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go off and on medication like that, Son.”
“I understand your concern, but I got it,” I say reassuringly. My dad’s one of my best friends—I can’t lose my cool.
I recently stopped taking the medication because I wanted to prove that I could handle it myself. Being chained to a bottle for the rest of my life is daunting and not something I’m going to do unless I have no other options.
Being able to pacify my dad this time doesn’t feel like a success. He’ll bring it up again like he always does.
A short time later, I’m sitting at my desk sending over a contract for an artist we commissioned to create custom boardsfor the store. Easton is in the stockroom adjacent to the offices. I overhear him briefing a few employees about what has to be done during their shifts tonight.
I glance at the clock for the third time in ten minutes. I’m anxious to see Avery, but I must finish this before leaving.
Easton suddenly walks into the room. “How long are you staying today?” he asks, rolling his chair over.
“I’m leaving as soon as I get this contract sent over.”
His face beams. “That’s for the artist, isn’t it?”
I hit send, then turn to face him, clasping my hands together on the back of my head. “Fuck yeah.”
I’m proud of this business deal because it’s the first one I’ve developed, negotiated, and coordinated.
“Dude, it’s going to be so sick to have him here,” he says.
I close my laptop and then slide it into my backpack. “I know, I’m stoked.”
“You leaving already?” He gestures toward the door.
“Just sent it over. I’m out of here.”
“Going to see Arizona?” he asks, knowing my answer already.
I smile proudly. “I am.”
Easton folds his arms across his chest, leaning back in his office chair. “Good for you.”
“See you tomorrow morning out on the water,” I toss over my shoulder before heading out.
“I’ll be there.”
