Reclaiming the Sand(63)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

“Don’t say anything, Ellie. Just leave me alone,” he snapped.

Well just great! So much for the perfect getaway. My inability to censor myself had always gotten me into trouble.

Some things never change.

Flynn was quiet for almost forty-five minutes. We had just merged onto the I-64 outside of Lexington when he finally spoke.

“We’ll stop at the next rest area. Murphy needs to go to the bathroom,” he said, as though we hadn’t just spent the last hour in complete silence.

“Flynn…I really think we should” I started but once again I was cut off.

“I’m hungry too. I brought some chips and fruit. We can eat some when we get there.”

Okay.

Obviously talking about our future wasn’t going to happen. I was frustrated. Aside from the possible physical distance between us, how would we ever be able to survive if we couldn’t communicate? If every time I brought something up that Flynn found to be unpleasant, he’d shut me down?

I was definitely not a talker. I tended to bottle shit up as much as the next messed up person. But I also knew that you had to talk about stuff. As hard as it was. And even though I had spent most of my life doing the exact opposite, I was now ready to try to do things the right way.

Murphy started to whimper in the backseat. I knew he was most likely picking up on the tension in the car. Hell, I’d start whimpering if I didn’t get out of there.

Flynn turned up the volume on the radio and I wanted to bang my head against the dashboard. Whiny singing was not the way to sooth my jangled nerves.

Finally we pulled into the rest stop and I practically jumped out of the car. I needed some space before I said something I’d regret. I didn’t handle rejection and hurt feelings well. The urge to hurt him as he had just unknowingly hurt me was overwhelming.

“Don’t you want to eat?” Flynn called out as I walked toward the restrooms.

“No! I just need a minute!” I said, not looking at him.

I went into the bathroom, barely noticing the disgusting smell, and splashed some water on my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

What was wrong with me?

I knew better than to put unrealistic expectations on Flynn. He would never be able to live up to them. But I had hoped when we started this thing between us that there would be an us at the end of it all.

I had been counting on it.

And now I was beginning to realize that was something I may not be able to rely on.

It was like waking up on Christmas morning to find out that Santa hadn’t been there and was actually just your parents who had been too drunk to remember to buy you any presents (my childhood didn’t lend itself to any positive metaphors). It was soul shattering.

I took several deep breaths and tried to calm myself down.

This wasn’t Flynn’s fault. He couldn’t help who he was. He was settled and comfortable. I couldn’t expect him to uproot and follow me wherever I ended up. He needed consistency and normalcy.

He needed roots.

And I was the last person in the world to give them to him.

How did you reconcile yourself with the knowledge that your life and the life of the man you loved were never going to follow the same path?

I patted my face dry with a paper towel. I needed to focus on this weekend and being with Flynn. I had to trust that everything would sort itself out and we would make it work.

Failure wasn’t an option when it came to Flynn and me.

I left the restroom and joined Flynn over by the tree line while Murphy sniffed the ground.

“Did you go to the bathroom? Do you feel better now?” Flynn asked and I grimaced.

“Flynn, you don’t ask people that stuff, come on,” I corrected.

“Come on where?” he asked and I shook my head.

“Never mind,” I muttered, watching Murphy as he bounded after a squirrel.

A few minutes later, Flynn consulted his watch and deemed it was time for us to get back on the road. He had calculated it should take us another three and a half hours and he planned for us to get to Sandbridge by dinnertime. He was inflexible about his schedule.

Before I could get in the car, still feeling despondent and low, Flynn reached out and took my hand. I startled at the contact. He tucked his fingers between mine and gave me a shy smile.

“I’m glad I’m going to the beach with you,” he said softly.

And he melted me. I was a giant, soggy mess. My worries, my insecurities, my endless amount of personal baggage drifted away and became completely inconsequential. I gave him a watery smile and squeezed his hand.

“Can I kiss you?” I asked him.

“Yes, I’d like that,” he agreed.

I moved closer and slowly wrapped my arms around his neck. Going up on my tiptoes, I pressed my mouth against his. He returned the pressure with eager force.

Nothing else in the world existed when Flynn kissed me. His lips communicated things that he could never verbalize. Even if he couldn’t give me the words, his mouth gave me everything else.

Flynn bit my bottom lip, much more gently than he had done in the past. He was learning. I smiled against his mouth. Flynn’s hands started to work their way up the back of my shirt and I pulled back.

“Flynn, remember, that sort of stuff we do when we’re alone. I’m all for a little PDA, but I don’t need the truckers over there getting an eyeful as you grope me,” I chuckled.

“I want to touch you. I like feeling your skin,” he said, sounding breathless.

“I know. Me too, baby. But let’s wait until later for that,” I urged as he pulled his hands out from my shirt and blatantly adjusted himself.

“We’d better get going if we want to get to the beach by dinner. I’ve always wanted to see the ocean at sunset,” I said, taking Murphy’s leash from Flynn.

“We have two hundred and twenty-three more miles to go,” Flynn said, turning on The Cure again once we were settled into the car.

“Why don’t we try listening to the radio?” I suggested.

“I like The Cure. They’re my favorite band. I want to listen to them,” Flynn argued and I didn’t press the issue. Though, I reminded myself that if I were ever on an extended road trip with Flynn again, earplugs would be a must.

We drove the rest of the way with very little talking. And I was okay with that.

Because sometimes the silence said more than words.

25

-Ellie-

I knew the moment we got close to the ocean. The landscape completely changed. I had lived my entire life surrounded my mountains and hills. It’s all I ever knew.