Carolina
There was never any place for us in this world. It couldn’t allow us to have the peace we desired–craved, even–in each other’s company.
Our souls were a blend of secret whispers and love notes. Harsh words were never invited into our hearts, but in reality, we were stubborn.
Love?
Do we really know what love feels like when we encounter it?
I wouldn’t know. I have never experienced such a thing.
What happens when you meet someone and they have never felt it before you?
Do we call what we share love?
How do we know we are in love?
That life-changing moment…
I knew how to love. My family. The few friends that I had. But to be in love with someone–someone who complements me, as I do him.
I have never felt so raw. Stripped down to nothing, but my dignity with such an emotion as unconditional love.
If someone had told me that meeting Aitch would turn my life upside down, and throw me on my ass, I don’t think I would believe them. And yet, if I could, I would rewind that moment a thousand times–until my last dying breath.
Today was like any other day. I left the beach at seven in the morning to head out to the bookstore slash surf shop where I worked. It was a decent job, as good as it could get for a nineteen-year-old new to the West Coast. I was still adjusting—it was hard—but I wouldn’t give up, for my grandmother’s sake. I loved the beaches here, they reminded me of Jamaica, like I was back home on my island paradise. The salty breeze, the scent of the ocean were different from home, but familiar enough. Compared to the Cali breeze, the Portland breeze was the opposite–stronger and sharper, but I had adjusted quickly.
Today was like any other day. I left the beach at seven in the morning to head out to the bookstore slash surf shop where I worked. It was a decent job, as good as it could get for a nineteen-year-old new to the West Coast. It had been four years and I was still adjusting—it was hard—but I wouldn’t give up, for my grandmother’s sake. I loved the beaches here, they reminded me of Jamaica, like I was back home on my island paradise. The salty breeze, the scent of the ocean were different from home, but familiar enough. Compared to the Cali breeze, the Portland breeze was the opposite–stronger and sharper, but I had adjusted quickly.
Each morning, I woke up at five, left my flat, and walked to the beach with a book in hand and a blanket in the other. I always found a spot close to a tree to watch the sunrise. The first thing I did was kick my flip-flops off to feel the cool sand shift beneath my bare feet. It was so soothing, wiggling my toes to let the sand glide between them. It made everything else disappear. Then I’d inhale deeply–the morning air fresh with a mixture of salt, sand, and something wild. If the breeze was strong enough, droplets of the ocean spray would kiss my skin. Then I’d sink to my knees, spread my blanket, and read until it was time for work.
My morning ritual kept me sane. No matter how the day went, I could always count on it.
The bell above the door jingled as I entered Faulkner’s Surf Shop & Bookstore. Greg, my boss and the owner, greeted me with his usual easygoing smile, a surfboard under his arm, ready to be customized for a customer.
“Hey, sweet Lea.”
“Hi, Greg.”
“I’m just gonna head around the back for a bit. Think you can look after everything while I’m busy.”
“No prob, boss. I’ve got this.”
“Thanks!” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared through the beaded curtain.
I smiled at his retreating figure and got to work, dusting the shelves, rearranging the surfboards near the window to attract more customers, and prepping the shop for the day. Tanner, my only coworker, wasn’t in yet. He always arrived exactly on time—never early, never late. He held down the surfing side of things, while I handled the books and the cash register. He would help when he could, with some of the heavy-duty stuff around here, but the finer details of running the shop? That was Greg and me.
It was six-thirty, and I still had time before opening. I grabbed my bag and stowed it in the locker out back, double-checking that the sign on the front door was still flipped to CLOSED.
Some mornings, experienced surfers or eager grommets would swing by early, hoping to catch the best waves before the crowds. The experienced surfers revelled in the solace of the ocean in the early mornings and hated the interruptions. However, this was not so today. Kind of happy, because I was starving.
A five-minute walk took me to Luca’s Bistro, a deli with the best sub sandwiches I’d ever tasted. Greg was friends with the owner, Mr. Luca, and though I wasn’t sure how his attempts to woo the man’s daughter were going, I knew one thing—I was always welcomed in before opening hours to grab breakfast.
Greg and Tanner's orders were the same. Unlike me who wanted to try everything on the menu. Mr. Luca called me an adventurer for always trying something new. “Most people stick to their routine,” he’d say, nodding toward Tanner and Greg’s usual orders. I watched as he bent to retrieve the bacon and cheese, along with the ham sandwich.
“I have a routine, too,” I’d counter, while collecting the sandwiches. They were neatly wrapped in a thin sheet of cream-coloured paper with the deli logo atop, that read Luca’s Bistro, with an illustrated man holding a sandwich and a smile on his face in a thick green outline.
He’d chuckle. “Ah, but does it stay the same for very long?” He quizzed in his scratchy, deep-throated Italian accent.
I paused thinking this over. Then he broke me out of my thoughts by asking, “What would you like to eat?”
I glanced at the chalkboard menu, scanning for something new. The last item caught my eye—something I hadn’t tried yet, something that had been taunting me for twenty-four hours.
“Thanks for the sandwich, Mr. Luca!” I called, taking my first bite as I handed him cash.
“Enjoy, young adventurer!” he chuckled as I headed out.
When I got back to the shop, Tanner was already there, unwrapping his sandwich before I could even hand it to him.
“Hey!” I half-shouted, half-laughed.
He did this every time. You’d think I’d be used to it after four years, but nope. Same action, same reaction.
“Cheers, Lea!” he said through a mouthful. “ You’re a legend.”
I shook my head, chuckling. “You’re welcome.”
“Oh, by the way,” he added, swallowing. “We’re headin’ to a party tonight. My mate just invited us. Don’t stress, he saw you through the window when you walked past—so it’s not some ghost thing. Catch ya!”
And with that, he disappeared through the beaded curtain.
I stood there, mouth slightly open. “Fuck you, Tanner!” I shouted.
“Love you too, mate!” he yelled back.
I smiled, shaking my head.
I hadn’t been to a party since I left Jamaica. I wasn’t sure how my grandmother would feel about it, even though I was twenty-three. Sometimes, I still felt like a child. Like I needed permission.
“I just want to live sometimes,” I whispered, flipping the sign on the glass door from CLOSED to OPEN.
Aitch
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a creature as sweet as the one standing in front of me.
She thought she was hidden behind the bookshelves, unseen by the world. But I saw her. I always saw her.
She was radiant.
The first time I came here, it was by accident. Stumbling through the doors of the little bookstore by the beach. I was looking for coffee, something to sustain me for the day. Instead, I found her.
Her dark skin glistened under the faint morning light. I had never seen anything so beautiful. Her lips—full, inviting—I’d kill for a taste. Her caramel eyes glowed, rich against her skin.
I dreamt of her almost every night. In those dreams, I told her how she made me feel. In reality, I never did.
Instead, I watched her. I became her unknown shadow.
I made it a habit to arrive early, just as she did, before the shop opened—just to watch her move. And when the opportunity arose, I took it.
I befriended the owner.
I got a job here.
And soon, I would become more than just a shadow.
I would become her friend.
