Page 78 of 7 Miles High
Okay. There’re only three other condos, I’m just going to start with the closest one. I ring the bell and wait. This time I hear heavy footsteps. I try to look as non-threatening as possible in case the person is looking through their peephole at the stranger at their door. But I hardly have to wait. The door swings open and Violet is greeting me.
“Honey! Hi!”
Her massive arms surround me. She could crush me like a grape.
“Hi! Hey, I didn’t know which place was yours, so I took a chance.”
“Come on in, sugar. I imagine you’re here to talk to Natalie. I know where she is.”
Violet stands back and I walk into her most unusual home. This is not what I expected. There’s kind of a fifties retro vibe happening. Large pictures of Vargas Girls and pin-ups hang, and there’s a lot of pattern. It’s feminine to the extreme. Overkill in my opinion. But obviously she likes it.
“Nice place. I like your pictures.”
“Thanks. Sit down, honey. I’m going to help you.”
“You are? Did Natalie tell you what happened?” I say, taking a seat in the polka dot club chair.
She plops into the oversized red beanbag and stretches her legs.
“She did. The bullet points, anyway. So let me ask you this. What the fuck were you thinking? Women need to know they’re number one in a man’s life. You didn’t do a very good job of that.”
I have to chuckle because Violet sounds like a truck driver but her words are all female.
I proceed to fill her in on all the details. If I fail to meet up with Natalie today, at least someone will have heard the real story and know why I didn’t have a choice.
“Shit. That makes sense. She needs to hear this just as I did.”
“Where is she? I only have a few hours till I have to go back.”
“She said she was headed for the beach a few hours ago. Usually we go to Main Street Beach, but if you don’t find her there, she also goes to The Coves. That’s where she does her heavy thinking when something is bothering her. It’s a few miles north of Main Street and kind of hidden, so I need to draw you a map. Once you get there it’ll be a mile walk on the sand. You up for that?”
“Violet, I could sprint it if I had to.”
“Good, darlin’. You better get going. The time’s a tickin.”
* * *
I skipped Main Street Beach altogether. I think The Coves are a better bet. My luck with parking ran out. That was the shortest stroke of good fortune that ever was. I had to grab any spot I could. Turns out three blocks from the sand was the best I could do. It’s hotter than I thought it would be at the water, and of course I’m wearing jeans, but no amount of discomfort is going to stop me. I roll them up and continue forward. I’m a man on a mission and this is going to be where things either get set right or I see they never will.
The crowd of swimmers, surfers, and sun worshipers dwindles as I get closer to the coves. It’s a fairly challenging walk because of the rocks dotting the shore. Ninety percent of the time there’s enough of a sandy path to continue down the beach. But every so often the way is blocked by the large boulders. I’ve had to climb a few to continue on. I passed the only walkers that have come this far, and don’t think they’re going further. I can see they’ve already begun to retrace their steps.
Here it is. There’s only another five hundred feet or so until the beach comes to an end and the way ahead is completely blocked. The rocky cliff on my right shows two caves where rock meets sand. She’s going to be in one of them unless my entire efforts have been in vain.Be there.
My toes grab the cold sand of the shore and start to climb the small incline that leads to the caves. But I don’t have to wonder if she’s here any longer. I see her there, walking out of the far cave, brushing sand from her legs.
The first thing I think about is how beautiful she looks. I’m a man. The red bikini, her long loose flowing hair, what a picture it makes. My heart is full just looking at her. A take in a big breath of air. That’s when she sees me.
There’s surprise on her face, but it gets contained quickly. I don’t think she wants me to see the emotion that she’s trying to hold back. But I do see it. I walk toward her.
“Natalie! Please don’t walk away, I want to explain things!”
There’s no sign of her wanting to leave, and for that I feel a small victory. If I can get her to listen, I’m fairly certain she’ll understand.
“Thank you,” I say, standing before her.
She doesn’t say a word or show any signs of budging in her opinion of what went down that night. So I just start talking. This is it. My final shot to make things right again.
As I begin the wind comes up, lifting a long blonde strand of her hair. The ocean’s song is loud today, with thundering waves.
