Summer Skies and Ocean Eyes

READ AUTHOR'S NOTE!

“Hey, it’s Tommy. I can’t get to the phone, but leave a message, and I’ll call you back.”

Sighing with frustration, I snapped my cell phone shut, shoving it into the back pocket of my shorts. My jerky motions caused one of the sleeves of Tommy’s sweatshirt to come loose, falling from where I had rolled it at my elbow. I didn’t bother to fold it back up, instead I let the fabric flap uselessly in the wind.

There was a chill in the air, like the cold breath of a looming storm. It was all over the news today, how a particularly strong current was beginning to make its way toward our coast. The ocean was already starting to stir like a melting pot, sea-green foam caught what light it could from the streetlights as it frothed in the waves.

Shaking my other arm, I caused the rolled sleeve of the hoodie to fall. The beach felt extra bare without Tommy’s presence tonight, adding hearty weight to the worry that had been budding in my chest since this morning.

After so determinedly arriving at the beach only to find it empty, every part of me that had been so electrified with nerves before had now become a gentle buzz. All that energy was gone; fading like the words I had been practicing in my head the past couple hours. I was left feeling as empty as the beach.

“I should go home,” I muttered to myself, legs restless beneath me. But I stayed put. Somehow hopeful—or something close to it—as I stood there.

Ever since Tommy handed me the sweatshirt at the Tea Cup Ledges, neither of us had talked about what it meant between us. Though, that gave me a chance to think over what I really wanted. No matter how I tried to spin, mold, cult, mash, or hide it: I wanted Tommy.

But not if it hurt this much. I couldn’t handle it—being dragged on a whirlwind that left me feeling hollow. There was a constant, dull ache that filled me when Tommy drowned in his troubles. I hated it.

With the lack of something solid to hold on to, I tightly wrapped my arms around myself. Tilting my head down and closing my eyes, I breathed in the smell of Tommy’s sweatshirt, wondering when that, too, would start to fade.

Then, accompanied by the sound of wind and waves, I turned my back on the ocean and made my way back home.

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The downstairs lights were on as I walked back to the house. Dread poured into me like honey, coating my intestines. Of course. Jon had probably noticed I was gone, and was now waiting like a mafia boss in the living room. There was no set curfew, but I had a feeling after tonight, one would be put in place.

Already tired beyond reason, I took my last breath of free air, removed my shoes, then walked into the house. There was no reason for me to try and sneak up the palm tree and pretend like I had been in my room the whole time.

Head hung, I made it all the way to the living room before realizing that it wasn’t Jon awaiting me, but Griffin.

“Where have you been?” he asked, bundled like a burrito in his blanket. He was sitting on the couch, the TV playing some cheesy Disney Channel show. My previously-terrified mind struggled to catch up with the actual events.

“I’ve been...out.” I dumbly replied, pointing my thumb at the foyer. Griffin was quiet as the air conditioner hummed on, creating a touch of wind that traveled through the sleeping house.

“Oh,” he finally said, blinking once. “Out where?”

I opened my mouth to parry his question, but the exhaustion of the night had already taken a hold of me.

“The beach.” My feet were heavy as I trudged to the couch, flopping beside him. It wasn’t until after I was in the cushion’s clutches when I realized I probably wasn’t going to have the energy to get back up. Oh well. I’d just sit there for the rest of my life and never have to worry about anything ever again. “Why?”

“Oh,” he repeated, as if it was perfectly normal for me to be at the beach at two in the morning. “I was just surprised when I went to your room and couldn’t find you.”

I turned my head, carefully watching him. There was something strange about his voice, it was uneven; low in a way that wasn’t normal for pre-pubescent Griffin. Not only that, but he somehow couldn’t bring himself to look me in the eye. His gaze was unfocused on the television.

“Is anything wrong?” If he had come to see me after everyone else had gone to bed, then something must have happened.

The kid shrugged, causing the folds of blanket on his shoulders to rise and fall. “Just couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled. The laugh track played on the TV show, unnoticed by him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I was tactless; completely off my A-Game.

Griffin opened his mouth to say something, then caught himself. “Never mind. It’s stupid.” He remained on the couch, as if silently asking for me to continue bugging him.

“C’mon, tell me what’s wrong,” I prodded, the novocaine-effect of the beach beginning to wear off as his expression worried me more and more. The blanket wrapped around Griffin twisted and bulged as he fidgeted; his eyes looked back and forth at a thought in his head.

“It’s just that Dad and Laura got in a fight today when you and Kendall were out shopping.” He said it quickly, then tentatively waited for my reaction. I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t know what I had been thinking was wrong, but this was definitely a lot better.

“Griffin, everyone argues. You know that just because they fight it doesn’t mean—”

“I know, I know,” he stuck an arm out of his cocoon to wave away my words. “But it was really bad today. It wasn’t like when they argue about how Dad works late or how your mom forgets to pay the bill for her tennis lessons. They were yelling this time.”

“Yelling? About what?” I tried to picture the two of them yelling like my mom and dad used to. I could still remember a time when I was five, sitting in the back seat of our car, watching as my parents fought and fought and fought. There was no way Jon and Mom would be like that with each other.

He paused again, looking more unsure of himself than ever. “I don’t know everything, but Laura was saying something about my mom, and then Dad got really mad. Laura started yelling. And then Dad was yelling, and then Laura stormed out.”

“A—about your mom? Veronica?”

Griffin nodded. “Then when your mom got home, Dad got a blanket and pillow out of their room and tried sneaking past me to his office. I think he’s sleeping in there right now, Cal. And Laura is upstairs. They’re so angry they’re not even sleeping in the same room.”

It took me a moment to remind myself that even though I was unsettled about their fighting, the last thing Griffin needed me to do was freak in front of him. Giving myself a beat to look unaffected, I gently smiled.

“Really, it’s nothing to worry about. There’s just a lot of tension going around since your mom got here. Our parents are still learning how to deal with each other, so the real problem would be if they didn’t fight. They need to figure things out.”

He was unconvinced. “But I remember what it was like with Mom and Dad. They used to yell just like that, and Dad slept in his office and Mom slept in their room. And then they got divorced.”

I leaned toward him, the diamond necklace around my neck swaying heavily back and forth. It was hard to keep my face confident when I remembered that everything I had been given could be taken away. Maybe nothing in Naples was meant to last forever.

“Listen, Griffin.” I gathered him into my arms, and even though it was something I wasn’t quite sure of myself, I said, “Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

Hearing my alarm go off at six in the morning made me feel physically sick. After shuffling Griffin to bed only four hours before, it was an understatement to say I hadn’t gotten much sleep.

But I had to get up. Mom was always on the move, making it hard for me to catch a frame of time where I could hold her attention. I knew that there was one place, at one specific time that she could be completely mine: morning yoga.

I didn’t bother changing out of the soccer shorts and tank top I had gone to sleep in. After plodding downstairs on feet that were still half-asleep, I saw that Mom had already been around, and made her exit. Her empty coffee cup sat beside Jon’s in the sink.

By the time I arrived at the rocky shore, Mrs. Kwon had already started the session. In my fumbled attempt to get ready this morning, I had forgotten the most simple of things: the yoga mat. Embarrassed, I sat in the back, trying not to fall asleep to the sound of waves and Mrs. Kwon’s soothing voice calling out the next position.

I hadn’t noticed I was drifting off until I felt a soft hand tuck flyaway hairs from my ponytail behind my ear. Blinking, I looked up to see mom smiling at me, the cloud-muffled summer sunrise tinging her skin pink.

“Did you sleepwalk all the way here?” she asked, sitting beside me on the rock. I didn’t miss the dark blue bags beneath her eyes; she probably had gotten about the same amount of sleep as I had.

“That’s a good question.”

The two of us sat in silence, nodding goodbye to other ladies after they rolled up their mats and made their way back to the path. They were all ready to start their day, and I felt like crawling back into bed.

Mom was uncharacteristically quiet. She seemed so small sitting next to me—something which was usually covered by her large personality.

“I heard that you and Jon got in a pretty big fight last night.” My voice was a little louder than a whisper; I didn’t look at her to see if she had heard. Mom let out a sigh, her shoes scratched against bits of gravel on the rock as she stretched her legs.

“Yes. Jon and I had a disagreement.”

Her lack of detail was frustrating. “So...what’s going on?” I snuck a glance her way, only to see her solemnly staring at the horizon.

“Nothing, Calico. It was only a fight. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

“You know, you used to always tell me about stuff like this back in Michigan.” Maybe it was because I was so tired, but I couldn’t control the immature angst from gripping my voice.

“Cal.” Mom wearily faced me, the laugh lines in her face were dulled. “I do know that I used to share everything with you. In fact, I always used to unload way too much on your shoulders.”

“It wasn’t too much.” I would have continued, but Mom gave me a look that cut me short.

“Of course it was too much, I depended on you for everything. I’ve thought about that a lot, since I came to Naples.” Mom was quiet again, her face concentrated on a thought. “Do you remember the first morning you went to yoga, and I talked about how this place was like a new beginning?” To comply, I nodded. “Well, when I moved here, I swore that things were going to be different when you came down. I told myself that I was going to get my act together, and that you would finally be able to function like a kid, for once.”

The last of the yoga-ers waved and left, leaving Mom and I alone on the rock overlooking the ocean.

“That means that for you to be a kid, I have to start acting like an adult,” she said with conviction, nodding her head once before looking at me. “So you have to understand that whatever is going on between me and Jon, or even Veronica; you don’t need to know everything. I’ve grown up enough to handle this myself, and all I want is for you to not have to worry about things like that anymore.”

I took in a deep breath of the salty air as she wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders, continuing. “I know it’s strange for us to be so...separate, in a kind of way, but in the end, it’s better. Letting go and moving on just takes a little more faith.”

“Faith,” I quietly repeated, holding my tongue by my teeth at the end of the word. Mom squeezed me to her, like I had hugged Griffin earlier this morning.

It was a difficult thought, really—to have not only faith in my formally nonsensical mother, but myself, as well. To have faith that everything would eventually work out.

Learning how to let go of things I couldn’t control, with faith that it was for the better.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“Cal, this is all part of ‘Tommy’s Thing,’ you know? It’s always been like this. When something happens, he disappears for a bit.” Poot’s voice was solemn through the phone. I bit my lip, sitting on the wet poolside recliner. Everything in Jon’s backyard was doused with rain: the clouds that had smothered the sunrise earlier today had thickened and exploded into a storm. Lasting most of the morning, I had paced the house until the rain stopped after lunch.

“I know,” I said quietly, feeling the water soak into my shorts. “The thing is, I kind of hoped that...”

“He would be different, for you,” he finished for me. The empathy in Poot’s voice was embarrassing. I recoiled from my cell for a moment, thankful he wasn’t here to see my expression. “The thing is, Tommy’s operated like this for such a long time. I wish that you wouldn’t be so harsh on yourself about—” he paused, lacking the right word to say.

I leaned back against the chair, sopping the rainwater up with my shirt. Dark and light gray clouds were tumultuously swirling and morphing above me, preparing for another downpour. A gust of wind barreled by, shaking the palm trees and creating a gush of noise over my cell phone.

When it had passed, I sighed. “I just don’t know what I should do. I always know what to do, you know, to make things better. And now I don’t.”

“You need to understand that this isn’t like you putting a band-aid on my leg, or you helping to convince Kendall to take her internship.” Poot didn’t let a beat pass after I had spoken. “This isn’t something that you can make better, or fix. The only person who can change anything is Tommy.”

My mouth fruitlessly opened to argue. I had nothing. Absolutely nothing. But, if what Poot was saying was true, then why did I have such an awful feeling hovering over me?

After a couple more minutes of talking in circles, Poot and I said our goodbyes and hung up. Even though we had only been talking on the phone, the backyard suddenly felt ten times more empty without his presence.

I had originally wanted to go to the beach after the storm ended, and get in some stress-relieving swim time that would take my mind off things for a while. That was cut short when the weather-woman reported of a beach advisory for Naples. Apparently, the sudden gush of sporadic storms were causing a strong undercurrent in the ocean.

“Swimming at this time,” she had said, the studio’s lights bouncing off her glasses, “is ill-advised.”

I was guessing that swimming in a pool at this time wasn’t “ill-advised,” so at least I still had something.

Thoughtlessly, I flipped my cell open and dialed a number. “Hey, it’s Tommy. I can’t get to the phone, but leave a message, and I’ll call you back.” I didn’t even bother to leave a message this time.

Taking off my flip-flops, I placed my phone on them to keep it dry. My hands wrapped around the base of my tank top, pulling it over my head. The shorts I was wearing were the next to hit the ground, and after that, I flung myself into the pool.

The water had a crisp taste to it from the fresh rainwater. I let it buoy me; floating halfway between the surface and pool’s floor. It wasn’t as satisfying as the ocean, but it would have to do for now.

I closed my eyes, feeling the familiar tug on my lungs that I needed to resurface. Something about it, accompanied by the quiet water ambiance, felt good. As a pressure filled my head, I imagined it was pushing out all of my stress, leaving no room for the horrible pieces of worry worming through my brain.

When I knew I had reached my limit, I paddled to the surface, harshly gasping as soon as my mouth hit the air. The chlorine stung my eyes as I treaded water, allowing my lungs to recuperate. I couldn’t help but look at my phone sitting on top of my shoes as I sucked in one steady breath after another, wishing the stupid thing would ring.

Then, as soon as I felt like my breathing was back to normal, I thrust myself underwater again and repeated.

And repeated.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

Something was going on downstairs. I paused and listened, holding the thick binding of three books in my hands from where I sat in front of my bookshelf.

Since Poot was out with his mom, and Emily and Lindsay went to Fort Meyers for some volunteer opportunity, I had to try and keep myself busy. After scrubbing the floors of my room, writing long e-mails to Dad and Carissa, dusting everything I owned, and re-organizing things that were already organized, the only thing left for me to do was to alphabetize my books in reverse order.

Anything to keep my mind off Tommy.

Now that I was halfway done, I could definitely hear rising voices bouncing their way upstairs, to my room. Frowning to myself, I put the books on my bed and crept to the top of the stairs.

“I do not understand what made you suddenly hate fashion so much! I thought you loved design.”

It was Veronica, the cool calm that was usually wrapped around her tone was becoming unraveled. She was only going to be in town for a couple more days, but simply the sound of her voice made me hope that the time would rush by.

“I do love design. I just don’t think that I, like, really want to have a whole career with it.” Kendall sounded unsure of herself, ending every sentence she said with a hint of a question mark at the end.

Mom opened the door to her room, questioningly pointing at the stairs. I shrugged as she came to join me, the two of us peering down to the living room.

“I can’t believe this. I have absolutely no clue what would make you take that fish internship when I had ones in Paris—Paris, Kendall—lined up,” Ms. Dubois ranted.

“I—I’m really good at what I do at the lab—”

“Do you even know what marine biologists make? They live off funding and donations. You know those manicures you love so much, and the clothes and the makeup and designer bags? Good luck having any of that with a degree in marine biology.”

Kendall was quiet.

“I am only thinking about what is best for you, sweetheart.”

Mom stiffened. Straightening her back, she combed her fingers through her hair, flicked it over her shoulder, and puffed her chest out. Before I could realize what she was doing, Mom gallantly walked down the stairs and disappeared into the living room.

“Oh, hello, Laura,” Veronica said flatly. “I was just dropping Kendall off.”

Against my better judgement, I snuck down the stairs, standing unnoticed at the foot of them. Kendall was sitting on the couch, her head slightly bowed. Ms. Dubois was standing directly in front of her, looking like a Victoria’s Secret model in her designer shorts, tank top, and chiffon shawl. Mom looked almost like a child standing next to the leggy woman.

“Well.” It took my mom a moment to gather herself together. “She appears to be dropped off, so I guess we’ll be seeing you later.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow at Mom, torn between annoyed and amused at the clumsy hint. “Yes, I’ll be on my way as soon as Kendall and I are finished talking.”

An awkward pause filled the air as Mom stood there, unmoving. Veronica cleared her throat, crossing her arms. “Would you mind giving us a moment?”

Mom crossed her arms in rebuttal. “Actually, I would mind.” She shifted uneasily where she stood. “The thing is, Veronica, I can’t stand to hear you continue to talk bad about something that Kendall has put so much work into, and loves so much.”

Veronica didn’t bother to feign politeness. “Something that she ‘loves so much’? Do you think that you somehow know my own children better? You’re just some woman who plopped into their lives, and now you’re telling me what to do?”

The way Veronica leaned over Mom made her slightly lean back. But, after taking a deep breath, she straightened out again. “I may not know Kendall as well as you, or as long as you have, but I have actually been here to see just how much it really means to her. She’s happy with her internship, and if you really wanted the best for her, you’d stop being such a—” I cringed, waiting for Mom to ruin the bravado she had built up with an elementary swear word. Thankfully, she caught herself with a mild stutter. “—a—an—ignorant person, and let Kendall choose her own path.”

I barely had a moment to internally cheer for Mom before a cloud darker than the ones outside crossed over Veronica’s face. A gulp I couldn’t contain lumped its way down my throat.

“If you think,” she hissed, leaning over my mom once again, “that I’m going to let some gold-digging hussy like you talk to me like that, then—”

“Mom!” Kendall’s voice shot through the room as she jumped to her feet, looking both angry and surprised at the same time. Veronica and Mom whipped to face her, startled.

The girl’s mouth opened, making her look like a gasping fish as her large, glassy eyes blinked with struggling thoughts. Finally, she found her words.

“Stop, really. Laura isn’t a—a gold-digging whatever. If you just would have gotten to know her instead of being all—you know, mean, then maybe you’d know that.” Bless the girl, she really was trying her hardest. “And you know what? Laura’s right. I love marine biology. And I worked really, really hard, Mom, to get the internship.”

“Sweetheart, you’re young. You don’t really know what you want yet,” Veronica said, shaking her head.

“Mom, stop saying that! I do know what I want!” Kendall stomped her foot, still somewhat of a fifteen year-old. Realizing this, she sniffed, straightening her hair. “I get that you can’t be around all the time, but that means that you, like, have to trust me when I make my own decisions.”

Ms. Dubois was quiet.

“Besides,” Kendall managed to put on a small smile, “if Calico can live without designer bags and manicures and haircuts and stuff like that, then I can too. Just not right now. I’ll break into it, slowly.” Mom chuckled.

“I don’t know what to say,” Veronica said, her voice sounding muffled in her throat. She turned, picking up her jewel-encrusted clutch off the couch. Smoothing the lines of her shawl, she raised her nose. “I’m very disappointed, Kendall. I am going back to my suite, and I suppose we can talk about this another time.”

Without saying goodbye, Veronica sharply turned and edged past my mom, then walked out the front door. After the door thudded shut, Kendall sighed and collapsed into the loveseat again, like it had taken every last ounce of her energy to say everything to her mom.
Mom walked over, then sat on the other cushion beside Kendall.

“Thanks, Laura,” she murmured, mustering up a grateful smile. Mom reached over, tucking a piece of hair behind Kendall’s ear.

“No problem, anytime.”

“And Calico, you can stop hiding over there like a creeper and come sit with us,” Kendall called. I crinkled my nose, then stepped further into the living room.

“What? What are you talking about? I just came downstairs to get some food. Was that your mom who just left?” I feinted stupidity. Kendall rolled her eyes at me. “And, just for the record, I want to say that I do get haircuts. Even if it doesn’t look that way sometimes.”

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

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