middle of Southern California, this town receives heavy snowfall each winter and the water from the lake is replenished by that snow melt.
Still, I can't help myself. I shake off my shoes and wade in. The water’s so cold that it sends little shockwaves through my body.
I continue to walk. The ground here is soft and scattered with occasional rocks, but otherwise very accommodating. I walk a little bit farther and then put my hands into the water and splash some of it on my face.
“If you don't have a bathing suit, you're more than welcome to borrow one of mine!” someone yells from behind me.
I turn around and put my hand over my eyes to block some of the sunlight.
“No, I'm okay. I think it's too cold for swimming.”
“I have a secret for you,” Mrs. Bowden says from her porch. “It's never too cold for a swim.”
She laughs and I laugh along with her.
“I hope that the owners don't mind that I'm walking here,” I say, pointing to the house behind me.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Mrs. Bowden jokes.
I give her a nod and she lifts up her coffee cup as if to give me a toast. Then she looks out onto the lake and loses herself in thought. I appreciate that. I came out here to be alone, that's exactly what she's letting me do.
I expect her to talk to me more, but she gives me space. I continue to wade through the water for a while, trying to collect my thoughts.
It's not particularly safe for us to stay here, but Tyler needs time to recuperate and it feels good to be here. There's something about the lake that puts my mind at ease.
At first, the anxiety that I felt at home dissipated when I got on the road, but after a while traveling every day started to get old.
I feel stressed.
On edge.
But I wonder if it will make me feel better.
When it comes to Tyler, there are so many unknowns. Right now, I exist in a kind of limbo, just like he does.
He's on the run.
He's trying to get away.
Luckily, we have some money now, but I have no idea if it's enough.
Enough for what? I also don't have an answer to that. It's probably enough to start a new life with a new identity.
But is it enough to clear his name?
Does he even want to do that?
We've been living life minute to minute for so long that we haven't even discussed any of these bigger questions.
Where do we stand?
What happens between us?
I need answers. For one thing, I need to know if I'm going to go back to work. There are only so many vacation days that I can take before they’ll fire me. Luckily, my three main clients agreed to try out doing therapy online. I have my first meeting with Mason later this afternoon.
But how long can I keep that up?
A week, maybe two?
Walking in the water, my feet are now completely numb. When I step on a particularly large rock, I slightly feel its indentation in my heel.
I kneel down and pick it up. It's shiny on the outside, see-through, and bright blue. I hold it up to the light and stare at the sun. This rock, this piece of glass, clearly doesn't belong here. Someone must have brought it here and forgot about it. But where did it come from?
I tuck it into the waistband of my leggings and run my finger on the outside, feeling its hard smoothness.
It doesn't belong here just like I don’t and that's why we belong together.
When I get back to the house, I'm no more certain of what is going to happen in the future or what I even want to happen in the future.
I love Tyler and I love the way that he makes me feel, but is that enough? He has a difficult life ahead of him. My life is also not without its challenges. Perhaps combining our problems into one life would just make everything worse.
When I get back, my mood suddenly darkens. Tyler’s still upstairs and I make myself a cup of tea and sit out on the porch.
I try to remember the excitement that I felt only half an hour ago, but it seems impossible to recapture.
I wonder if I’m making a mistake. Not in helping him, I know that is the right thing to do, but in being with him now.
But when I try to imagine going home without