The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara
Fifty-Three
I stop reading, unsure what is more shocking. That Max was on the bus with me all the way to Carmel, that he thought I was beautiful, or that David was a hundred times worse than I ever imagined.
Maybe I should be freaked out finding out Max was a few rows behind me on the bus, but reading his thoughts, I realize it was coming from a good place. He wanted to make sure I was alright. He wasn’t trying to be creepy. It’s still a bit unsettling. He was there. Just like with the airport, I wish I’d known. If I’m honest though, I think I would’ve taken it the wrong way if I did know. I wouldn’t have allowed him to explain and we wouldn’t have gotten to know each other the way we did. I would’ve never felt what I ended up feeling for him.
As for David, I wish I could say that it’s all a huge shock. It’s not. It hurts that it was that bad for so long and I had no idea, but it’s not a big surprise. Once a cheater, always a cheater, I guess. I’m just glad that’s over with, but I regret now more than ever the time I lost on him; so much time on a man who never deserved me. To think he dares to still call and text me after all this, is just mind-blowing.
The truly terrible thing about what I just read is that soon, the whole world will read it too. Thankfully—or hopefully—they won’t know it’s my story. To them, it’s just going to be fiction.
June After Midnight
Chapter 21
She gets off the bus first and I follow.
Her reaction when she sees the town is endearing. That innocence, the first thing I noticed about her, is evident and the joy is heartwarming. I’m so happy I did this.
At the café, I don’t want to risk it, so I go across the street to the small eatery on the corner. Thankfully she decides to sit outside, so I can still see her from where I am.
The most interesting is when we get the bikes. I’m the last one to join the group and I almost give myself away when she doesn’t brake enough on a curve and almost falls over. My first instinct is to catch her, so I rush and get to her and just as I’m catching her elbow and straighten her, the older couple catch up to me and then her and ask her. “Are you alright?” She never turns around to see if there was anyone else there and no doubt she thinks one of them helped because she excuses herself and says she’s a klutz.
I sit far from her on the beach with my own bottle of soda and pastries that I bought a few minutes after she did from the bakery on Ocean Avenue.
I look at the ocean and at her and can’t help but smile. We aren’t sitting together, haven’t even said hello, but I feel closer to her than I’ve felt to anyone in years.
When she texts me If you have other things to do, you can just tell me the names of the places in advance, so I don’t bother you all the time, there’s a moment of panic. It comes out of nowhere and it’s a terrible feeling. I immediately respond and assure her she’s not bothering me.
There are only a few hours left of this unexpected adventure we’re sharing, and I’m not ready for it to be over.
But what I’m definitely not ready for is what I feel when I text her:
Are you trying to get rid of me?
My heart beats fast. Faster and faster as the seconds pass.
She says no and I let out a sigh of relief and immediately look her way as if I’m afraid she heard me, which is impossible, I know.
I reply and then sit there, my feet in the warm sand, the wind whipping my face, and I start smiling. And I can’t stop smiling. I’m giddy. The kind of excitement one wouldn’t expect to feel in this situation.
But I feel it and I don’t try to stop it. I ride it out. I know everything is happening on borrowed time, and the clock is ticking faster and faster now, but I’ll take it. I’ll take every moment of this day. Because I haven’t smiled like this in forever and it feels amazing.
June After Midnight
Chapter 22
We’re doing the cottage tour and everything is going so well. I love seeing her reaction, the smile on her face, and how she takes photos and then texts them to me. Hansel and Gretel, the Grant Wallace House, The Woods, the Hugh Comstock Residence and Studio.
They seem so tiny, almost as if they’re built for storybook characters, she texts.
Some are incredibly small. That one is less than 400 square feet, I message back.
The moment I press send, I realize how stupid that was. I have to think fast and see a woman walking a dog. Isn’t she the librarian’s daughter? Cora? Kara?
“How’s it going? I haven’t seen you in a while,” I say.
She looks a bit confused for a moment, then there’s a look of recognition.
I haven’t seen her in years. Last I heard she moved to Los Angeles.
“How are you? I’m here for the weekend, to see my father.”
“You know how it is,” I say, looking over her shoulder to see what Maya’s doing.
I excuse myself to text her back. The one I just told you about. The Woods.
She immediately texts back. I passed it already. I’m at the heart-shaped one.
Our House, I say.
Our House, she replies. Funny name.
That was close. Dangerously close. But why am I so afraid she’ll see me and know I’m here? Because it’s not OK what I’m doing, right? She’s vulnerable and lonely and doesn’t need someone following her around. She would misunderstand. She’d get back on the first bus out of here or call the police. And this amazing day would turn into a nightmare.