Underestimated Part 2

I smiled at her. "How the h.e.l.l am I supposed to get down to the beach from here?" I asked, wanting off of the subject of me.

"There's a path. I'll show you, but right now we have floors to clean." She stood and patted my knee.

By eleven o'clock, we were finished. I couldn't sit still. I was noticeably hyper and wanted my delivery, now.

Lauren showed me the path to get to the beach. It was rather steep and rocky, but nothing that I couldn't handle. I should have my house all together by the next day, and planned to venture down there and explore my new surroundings.

Lauren never left me. She stayed until five in the evening until the last picture was hung on the wall. I loved it, and I loved her. My house was complete, and I only needed to go shopping for a few odds and ends that I had forgotten. Food! Yes. I had to do that. If I forgot to get food one more day, I was going to turn myself into a crazy house.

I hugged Lauren before she left and thanked her again.

"I don't like mushy friends," she teased with a warning look. "You are more than welcome. Oh yeah, what's your cell number?" she asked, pulling hers from her back jeans pocket.

"I don't have one," I said, and she c.o.c.ked her head.

"There is a Radio Shack right beside 'Reminiscent,' where you will be working. You should probably have a phone."

"I am not sure I want one just yet. I think that I should wait a while."

"Afraid of being found?" she asked. I wasn't about to answer that one. She left shaking her head as she skipped across my yard. My yard, I smiled.

I showered and was bouncing off the walls as I entered my new living room. I couldn't wait to lie on the black comfy leather sofa and watch a movie. That was my plans for that Sat.u.r.day night. I was going to the grocery store first, not about to get sidetracked or forget that again.

Then I was going to rent a movie or two and come back, lie on my couch and eat spaghetti. I loved spaghetti and Drew had hated it. The only time I would get it was when he took me to 'Trattoria da Cesare,' a famous Italian restaurant on Las Vegas Boulevard, I mean Carson Boulevard. I giggled to myself and felt like a giddy little teenager.

I was home by eight, listening to my new radio and country music as I chopped the needed ingredients for my spaghetti. I wondered what Lauren was doing. I should invite her over for spaghetti. I wished I could call her. I looked out the front door, and there were no lights on. She wasn't home. I went out to the back deck and gazed out at the moon over the ocean. For the first time in an awful long time I felt light-hearted and had a new sense of calm.

I would never again worry about what kind of mood Drew was going to be in when he got home. I would never again worry about focusing on what I could do to improve myself so that I didn't set him off. I would focus on me for the first time in my life. I clasped my hands together and pressed them to my lips, almost as if I were praying and thanking G.o.d for my courage to do what I had done, and be where I was standing. I truly was grateful.

My new sense of being was shattered once again when I heard the loud knock on the door. Would I ever get used to this? Would I ever be able to breathe and not think that it was someone there to get me?

I looked out and saw Lauren. She pushed herself in carrying a bag and busily started talking as she removed its contents.

"So, I figured I might as well get this myself. It was pretty obvious that you were not going to," she said handing me the new cellphone. "You have to have a phone, Riley," she a.s.sured me.

"Lauren, I can't accept this." I tried to hand it back.

"Hmm, this looks good," she said, sticking her finger in my homemade sauce, ignoring me.

"Lauren!"

"Look, Riley. I don't know what your story is, and I am not going to pry. If you ever need to talk I am here, and you never have to worry about me saying anything to anyone. Even if you never tell me your story, you still need a phone. It's pretty clear that you are afraid of having a phone in your name, so I put it on my plan. I am not giving you anything. The phone was free to add a line, and you can pay me the monthly thirty five dollar payment. Okay?"

How could I argue with that? Why was she, so h.e.l.l bent on being nice to me? Not that I was complaining, it just felt sort of superficial. No. Stop it, Morg, I mean, Ry, not everyone has a motive.

"Thank you, Lauren. Would you like to stay for supper?"

"No, but I want leftovers tomorrow. I kind of have a visitor that I need to get back to. I put my number in your phone already, in case you need anything. I'm leaving before you hug me again."

I laughed and watched her walk back to her house.

There was a guy building a fire off to the side of her house. I watched as he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. I wondered who he was and if he was her boyfriend.

I finally sat down to enjoy my spaghetti and the movie 'Wanderl.u.s.t with Jennifer Aniston.' I couldn't contain my nosiness and peeked through the crack in the curtains across the yard every now and then. I watched Lauren lead her friend into her house by the hand around eleven. She probably wouldn't tell me about him unless I asked. I wouldn't, I mean, it wasn't like I was sharing any part of my life with her.

I slept like a baby in my new bed but woke a little too early, thanks to Lauren. I reached for my new cellphone on the nightstand and read the new text.

"You up?"

"I am now," I answered.

"Make coffee, I'm on my way over."

Okay. I said out loud, forcing myself out of bed. I didn't even have time to completely finish peeing before she was knocking on my door.

"Good morning," she said, way too happy. I glanced at the clock, and it was only eight. I wasn't sure I liked her much anymore. She walked past me and started the coffee herself.

"I'm going to brush my teeth," I said and left her alone. When I returned she was in my refrigerator, retrieving the leftover spaghetti.

"Want some?"

"No. Help yourself." I sarcastically replied.

I sat on my new sofa, and she talked. Not about anything particular, she was just rattling on about this and that. I sleepily listened and wished I had slept another hour while she warmed up my leftovers.

"What are you doing today?" she asked, pus.h.i.+ng my feet off the couch so that she could sit.

There is a chair right there.

"I want to walk down to the beach. Other than that, I guess I don't have any. Why?"

"I bowl on Sunday afternoon. Wanna come?" she asked, sucking spaghetti through her lips.

"No. I don't think so, but thanks."

"Come on, Riley, it's fun. I will introduce you to some of my friends."

"I will, Lauren, just not today."

"Okay." she replied, and I was glad that she didn't insist. I certainly wasn't up for meeting new people yet.

I dressed in a pair of dark blue wind pants with two small white stripes, and a white cotton s.h.i.+rt, unb.u.t.toned overtop of a red t-s.h.i.+rt. I was definitely going shopping for new clothes. Yes. I did once wear worse than what I had now, but I had gotten used to the designer clothing that was a vital part of my life for the past six years. Somewhere in-between this and that would be good, I decided as I tied the also used sneakers. I felt ashamed of myself. I shook my head in disbelief of wearing someone else's shoes. There was a time in my life that my toes cramped, curled in the only shoes that I had to wear, probably two sizes too small.

I started down the path, holding onto the boulders as I made my way to the beach. This was surely not what I had pictured when I thought about living by the beach.

From what I had seen so far, there was no beach. I climbed and maneuvered my way through the sa.r.s.ens.

Some of the s.p.a.ces between the rocks were barely wide enough to squeeze through. It was probably a good thing that I was required to keep in shape. Finally, I was in the clearing. I moaned a disgusted breath when I saw that the large peak that I had been looking at from my deck, didn't allow room for walking. The only way I would be able to walk north was sprint while the tide gave maybe a foot of wet sand. I would do it, just not that day. I chose instead to walk south. The beach was nice, and I decided that I had found my new favorite place when in a distance I witnessed a pirate s.h.i.+p. I knew that it wasn't a real pirate s.h.i.+p, but with the many sails, it could have pa.s.sed as one.

The windjammer was moving away from the lighthouse on a peak in the distance.

I sat on a hard rock and pulled my knees to my chest. The air was crisp, but the sun warmed my face, and felt invigorating as I contemplated living there. I closed my eyes and breathed the sea air and the suns heat into my lungs. I was here. I did it, and I was never looking back.

My meditation was interrupted when a friendly yellow lab barked and placed his paws on the rock that I was perched on.

"h.e.l.lo there," I said, petting him. I looked up to see where his owner was. There was an older gentleman walking toward me with a smile and a crooked stick in one hand.

"Sorry about that," he said as he approached lifting his walking stick and poking it into the sand with every step. I noticed that he walked with a limp and a.s.sumed the stick was for support.

"Oh, it's okay. I think he just wanted to say hi," I said, sliding from the rock.

"I'm John Hunter. I live about a mile north of here," he explained pointing to the peak with his stick.

"I'm Riley," I offered, omitting my last name. I forgot it again, but just for a second. "I live right up there,"

I pointed, kind of in the right direction. He didn't need to know which house. You live on the other side of the peak?" I asked, wondering how he got around it.

"Yup, you have about three hours of sand before the ocean takes it back. This hour and two more," he smiled.

"Thanks. I will remember that." I bent to pick up a piece of sea gla.s.s that the sun had radiated on, catching my eye. I wiped it with my thumb, feeling the smooth surface.

"Purple," John said, admiring the sea gla.s.s, "extremely uncommon. May I?" he asked, reaching for my sea gla.s.s find.

I handed it over to him and asked, "Why is purple uncommon?"

"Well, believe it or not, it started out as clear gla.s.s, used in a variety of applications from beverage bottles, food containers, decorative tableware, door k.n.o.bs, and more. It could have even come from an old car winds.h.i.+eld," he explained and handed it back. "Wanna know something else?"

"Sure," I replied.

"A purple sea gla.s.s find is considered to bring good luck. You should make a necklace or bracelet out of it," he added.

Good luck? I could use that.

"Come on boy," he called to his wandering dog.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Riley," he nodded and went about his walk.

I spent two hours on the beach, looking for more sea gla.s.s. I didn't find any more. My stomach began to remind me that it needed fed, and I walked back up the path. Going down was a lot easier than getting back up.

I didn't see Lauren again that day. I was starting to get a little antsy about starting my new job the next day. I made myself hotdogs and french-fries for supper and felt a little sneaky about it. Drew would have never eaten a hotdog. I also watched reality T.V, something else that Drew refused to watch. I seriously needed to stop doing things just because Drew would hate them, but it did make me feel like I was twisting the knife just a little, which made me smile.

I had a hard time falling asleep, and when I finally did, I woke to a pounding heart and sweating profusely.

My dream was so real, and it took me several minutes to calm myself down and convince my conscious that it wasn't real, and I was fine.

I walked to the kitchen and got a drink of water, still trying to forget the dream. It was early morning, and I watched Lauren leave for work. Rather than going back to bed like I needed to, I ran a hot tub of water and tried to relax. I really needed to stop thinking about Drew. I was not Morgan Kelley. I was Riley Murphy, and Drew Kelley would never hurt me again. This was my life. I was not Drew Kelley's wife. I had my own life, and I could now live it however, I pleased.

I honestly did just think I could walk away and forget the past twenty five years of my life. Needless to say, it wasn't working, just yet. Maybe I did need to seek counseling. Ms. K had suggested it. No. I don't need counseling. I just need to focus on my future and not my past. I can do this. I closed my eyes and breathed in the steam from the hot water, giving myself the much needed pep talk.

I made coffee and turned the radio station to Z- 103. I sat on my new sofa and listened to Lauren and this guy, Levi. I was actually laughing. They had a psychic on the show, and people were calling in to find out how old they would be when they died. I laughed out loud when one caller was telling the two how much she enjoyed their show. She explained that she only had one complaint, and as soon as she said it, Lauren hung up on her, saying their egos wouldn't handle complaints.

I was overly impressed with their morning show and was even starting to like the country music that they had played. That was until they played a song by Shania Twain, 'Black eyes and blue tears,' something about no more excuses, no more crying in the corner and no more bruises. As soon as the country singer wailed out begging, please no more, I jumped up and turned off the radio. It was just too close to home, and my scars were still too raw to cope with the words.

I searched through my closet to find something to wear to work. What the h.e.l.l do you wear to a coffee slash hippy store? How do the two even go together? I decided on a pair of dark jeans that didn't quite fit. They could have been a size smaller. I was definitely going shopping my next day off. I wore a plaid, green and white s.h.i.+rt and tucked it into my jeans, hoping maybe to use up some of the slack. I brushed out my shoulder length hair and pulled just the top back, leaving one strand to fall around my face.

I was nervous as I parked my car in the back alley where I was told to park. I saw the back door, but wondered if I should I use the front door my first day. I didn't have to decide when Starlight came out with a bag of trash.

"Good morning," she said with a happy smile.

Starlight wore a long flowing skirt with sandals and a sixties looking s.h.i.+rt with some sort of Indian design, and long flowing sleeves.

"Good morning," I smiled back.

Starlight shook my hand, and the first thing that I noticed was the peace sign tattoo between her thumb and forefinger.

"Well, come on in," she exclaimed and I followed her in.

The door opened to a storage room with boxes and boxes of I had no idea what. I looked in the first door as we pa.s.sed. It was an extremely messy office with stacks and stacks of papers. This could be a problem with my OCD. Everything had a place, and I couldn't even blame that one on Drew. Even when I lived at home growing up, the dump that we occupied was as clean as the place would allow. Maybe I tried to make it better than what I knew it could ever be, but for some reason it had always stuck with me.

"You can throw your purse in here," Starlight stopped at the office door. "Just remember where you put it. Things seem to come up missing in here," she joked, and I raised my eyebrows.

I wonder why.

We walked out to the front, and there was a counter with a register and too much junk. Oh boy, I thought, wondering if I could handle the mess. The part of the store on the far side was supposed to be the coffee shop. The part by the register was the hippy shop. Or something. I hadn't quite figured out what she had going on in all of the chaos just yet. There was everything you could think of including a big gla.s.s bong displayed in a gla.s.s case. No wonder she was so happy.

"Go ahead, look around," Starlight gestured with her hand.

I noticed three older gentlemen at a table in front of the window, drinking coffee and arguing about what year some bridge had been built. I thumbed through the s.h.i.+rts and pants rack and then moved over to the shelves.

Starlight had every kind of tea imaginable. There were shelves of little figurines, and I had already fallen in love with a miniature little boy in jean overalls rolled up to his knees and holding onto two little puppies as they licked his cinched face.

"Would you like some coffee?" Starlight asked.

"Sure," I replied and hoped she wasn't going to offer me the breast milk.

I followed her over to the coffee bar and was relieved when she asked me what my flavor was.

"French vanilla?" I said in more of a question, wondering if she had it.

"The best," she answered, and she was right. It was the richest coffee I had ever tasted.

I wondered why she would hire me to work there, after only seeing three customers stopping into get coffee after three hours. I didn't think she could have that much business to pay me. I got my answer around three o'clock when she decided that she should show me how to order the teas and coffees.

"Come on," she said and I followed her to her confusing office. "We only have a week to get you up to speed before I leave."

"Leave?"

"Yeah, I am flying to Australia for few weeks. I usually just close the place up, but my usual patrons are getting pretty tired of me just closing up and leaving. Don't worry, you'll be fine. Truck comes in on Tuesday. I will show you how to keep the coffee machines going. Sat.u.r.day mornings are pretty crazy in here, but the good news is, you only have to ring them up. They get their own coffee.