“Worried isn’t the right word. I’m not sure there is a word.”
We watched Jackson scamper down to the edge of the water and rinse his hands.
“I shouldn’t have dumped all of my shit on you,” she said. “You have enough going on.”
“You didn’t dump anything on me.”
“Yeah, I did. I saw you and saw someone who might be able to help,” she said. “I told you no, but I really wanted your help. And when Jackson took to you…I absolutely wanted your help.” She sighed. “And probably more.”
“I can help,” I said. “But I can’t give you more. I’m sorry. Has nothing to do with you. I hope you realize that.”
“I do,” she said. “I didn’t an hour ago, but I do now.” She smiled. “So thank you for telling me. It helps me. I’m sorry it doesn’t help you.”
I dug my fingers into the sand, lifted up my hand and let the sand fall back to the ground. “It did, I think. I needed to tell someone.” I hesitated. “And I trust you.”
“Good,” she said, squeezing my arm. “You can. Trust me.”
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I really could trust someone.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Bella insisted on going home with Jackson by herself. I offered to go with her, but she wouldn’t hear it.
“I’m not going to live in fear,” she said, throwing the sandy towels into the trunk of her car. “I want out.”
“Check the house before you take him in,” I said, nodding at Jackson in the backseat. “Just make sure nothing looks weird. Anything is off, drive right back to my house. But I really think it’ll be okay.”
She took a deep breath. “Right. Okay. And we really need to get you a phone.”
I shook my head. “I can’t have my name on anything.”
“Let me worry about it,” she said. She gave me a quick hug and opened the driver’s door. “We might come check on you tonight.”
“Okay.”
She slid into the driver’s seat and I watched them turn out of the lot and head up the highway toward the bridge.
I collected the umbrellas and chairs, locked up the shed and left the stragglers on the beach.
The breeze picked up as I crossed the highway, providing a little relief from the brutal late day sun. Heat radiated off the asphalt, blurry waves rafting upwards. As I stepped onto the sidewalk and headed for the cul-de- sac, I felt good for the first time in I wasn’t sure how long.
It felt good to talk about Liz. I didn’t have to lock her away. And I wasn’t paranoid about telling Bella my story, wasn’t worried that it was going to backfire on me. I wasn’t looking at her with the same sideways glance I’d viewed everyone else through for the last few months. It was a relief to let down my guard. I knew it wasn’t permanent, but the temporary respite felt good.
But as I turned into the cul-de-sac towards the house and saw Zip at the curb, the respite melted away, replaced with paranoia and fear.
Zip was leaning on a motor scooter, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes were fixated on the phone in his hands, his thumbs typing away. He didn’t notice me until I was at the end of the drive.
“Hey, Noah,” he said, grinning and shoving the phone in the pocket of his shorts. “What’s up?”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“Just came to see what you were up to,” he said, shrugging.
“Just getting off work,” I said.
“You weren’t there yesterday,” he said and gestured at my face. “And looks like you had a little accident.”
“I took the day off. You come looking for me yesterday, too?”
“Yeah, at the beach.”
“You need an umbrella or something?”
He laughed, sucked on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a dirty little cloud. “Ha. No. Just checking up on you.”
“I don’t need to be checked up on, Zip,” I said.
“I didn’t say you did.”
“If you want something from me, you need to ask for it,” I said. “I’m done with the small talk.”
He shrugged again, his eyes widening. “I can’t just check in on an old friend?”
“We weren’t friends.”
“Yeah, but here we are, in Florida, neither of us knows anyone else,” he said. “I thought we could hang out.”
“You thought wrong.”
“You still didn’t tell me what happened to your face,” he said, squinting at me through the cigarette smoke. “You in some kind of trouble?”
Seagulls flew over our heads, squawking and crying. I watched them pass over the house toward the bay.
“I’m fine, Zip,” I said.
“You don’t look like it.”
“I’m fine.”
He nodded slowly, then sucked hard on the cigarette, the end glowing red. He pulled it from his mouth, studied me and exhaled. “You talk to Carter lately?”
I wanted to grab him by the neck and throw him in the bay, but I’d already had too many confrontations in Florida. I was taking my chances every time I made myself noticeable. I needed to stop.
“No, not lately,” I said.
“He doing okay?”
“Like I said. Haven’t talked to him lately.”
“Heard you two might’ve gotten in a little trouble in Cali,” he said.
I let that hang in the air for a moment.
“We were always in trouble,” I said.
“This sounded different.”
“Oh, yeah? What did you hear?”
He finished the cigarette, dropped it to the ground and stepped on it.
“Probably just bullshit,” he said, smiling as the smoke streamed out of his nostrils. “You know how it goes.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Just stories and shit, probably.”
“Probably.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, cool. I’ll get out of your hair.” He lifted his chin in my direction. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else. About you, Carter, whatever.”
“You do that.”
“Peace,” he said, walking past me.
I watched him head out of the cul-de-sac on the scooter, his phone in one hand. He stared at the screen, typing as he steered. He turned around when he got to the corner, gave me a half-hearted wave.
I didn’t wave back.
TWENTY-NINE
