Page 84 of My One
Sitting at the wood bar, we waited for the bartender to finish with a few customers. I looked around, blissful we were in the Bahamas. “See that bush right there.” I pointed to the dark pink flowers. Different colors of the same bush seemed to surround the bar.
“Yeah,” Nic replied. “Aren’t those the same ones that were at the house in Santa Barbara?”
I nodded. “Azaleas. They were my mom’s favorite.” Then the name of the bar clicked. I grinned.
“What?” Nic asked, looking at my smile.
“The bar is called Zelly’s. I get it.”
“We should plant some at our new house and spread your mom’s ashes around them.”
“I’d like that.” We hadn’t done anything with my mother’s ashes yet since we knew we would be moving. I wanted to wait until it was our forever home because once I scattered Mom’s ashes, I wouldn’t be able to take her with me.
One of the bartenders approached. He was older—maybe in late fifties—and it made me picture owning a bar in the sand even more. He had a dark tan, a surfer haircut like I used to have, and blue eyes like myself. If this guy could work at an island bar, so could I in thirty-something years. “What will it be?”
“I’ll take whatever’s on tap,” I replied.
“Water for me, thanks,” Nic answered.
“Water?” The bartender balked. “You’re in paradise, sweetie. Don’t you want a drink with an umbrella in it?”
Nicole smiled and looked over at me. “I can’t. We’re having a baby.” I wrapped my arm around her. We were having a baby!
“Well, congratulations,” the bartender regarded. “I’ll make you a virgin strawberry margarita to celebrate.”
“Thank you.”
“Where are you kids from?” he asked as he got to work getting our drinks.
“New York,” I responded.
“New York? New York City?” he mocked like that old salsa commercial with the cowboys.
“Well, I’m from Boston, and he’s from California originally,” Nicole clarified.
“Cali? I’m from Cali too.” He set my beer in front of me.
“Oh yeah? Which part?”
“Outskirts of L.A.”
“I grew up in Ventura,” I replied, which was also the outskirts of Los Angeles.
“Oh, then you’ll know where I grew up too. Thousand Oaks.”
“Sure do.” I smiled.
“His father’s from Thousand Oaks.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, his finger on the blend button on the blender, waiting to crush the ice and make a loud noise.
“I didn’t know him,” I stated, not sure why I was telling this man my life story, but then people came to Halo all the time and told me theirs, so I kind of understood.
“That’s too bad.” He pressed the button to turn on the blender and blended Nicole’s drink. When he was done, he placed it in front of her, gave her a pink umbrella, and wiped his hands on a bar towel. He stuck out his hand to me. “Name’s Avery.”
Nic choked on the sip of her drink she’d just taken, and my hand stilled mid-air. “Avery?” I questioned.
He grinned. “Well, there was a time I went by Mike, but that just didn’t work for me.” We shook hands.
