cool water envelops my feet. I wiggle my feet and scoop up a bit of wet sand with my toes. It feels good. It feels free. A wave sneaks up and splashes over my knees, almost wetting my shorts. I squeal and jump back onto the dry sand.
Adam’s making his way out of the water and stands in my fading footprints.
“Did you hear me?” He holds out his hands.
I can’t speak. I’m too scared, too confused and too hopeful because, yes, I did hear him.
I walk over to him. “I think so.” I feel the water rise back over my feet, not giving a damn if a wave gets me.
“Look what I found. Hold out your hand.”
He places a small shell into the palm of my hand. It looks like an elongated miniature conch shell.
“It’s perfect.” I hold up the shell to take a closer look.
“Maybe you’ll hear something if you put it by your ear. The ocean. A sound. To help wake you up,” he says, alluding to what he told me at the top of the stairs.
I close my hand around the shell and look up at him. “Thank you.”
“I want to see you again.” Adam holds my face with his wet hands. I catch a scent of the salty ocean water mixed with the hints of his aftershave. I know this is usually where I should close my eyes, the picture perfect movie moment. But my eyes are open and mesmerized by his. “Do you want to see me again, Liv?”
“Hey, I’m back. I’m going to go pack!” I call out to Bex as I hastily make my way up the stairs to my room.
“Did you have fun? What time does your flight leave tomorrow?” Bex yells up to me.
“Three thirty-five. Yeah, it was good to see the water.”
How could I even begin to tell Bex about meeting Adam? I’m still trying to process it myself. I’m not even sure it was real.
I scan the room; just barely a full week here and I’ve managed to make a mess, in more ways than one. I’m going to miss those lace curtains and the sunshine. I’m going to miss Bex. I sit down on the bed with a thud and pull out my phone to see if I have any messages. The butterfly wings stop beating as I see who I have a missed call and voicemail from.
“Hi darling, I’ve got to fly direct from Dubai to Zurich because of a client dinner on Saturday night so I’m afraid I won’t be able to come back to London to see you on Sunday for lunch. Sorry, darling.”
And that was that. A voice recording. Digital bits and bytes of a husband. Not even a tape whirring around in an old answering machine, so at least there’d be some physical manifestation of him. In fact, he sounds positively upbeat, and certainly not sorry.
He’s my ghost husband, I think to myself. What am I doing? I flounce back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Who has a client dinner on a Saturday night? And why was I still bothering to ask myself these questions? I know the answers. And now Bex does too. No more hiding from it. My mind wanders back to the encounter with Adam.
I hear the door open a crack.
“Don’t go,” Bex says. “Look at all this stuff, half your closet is already here anyway.”
“Forget packing. Let’s go hang out in the backyard. I want to soak up the last of this LA sunshine.” Remembering the feeling of being with Adam, I really don’t want to pack. I also remember who’s in traffic on his way over here and smile.
“What? You’re acting strange. Look at that grin on your face? What’s going on?” Bex says.
“Nothing. Just all that ocean air. It’s purifying!” I hop off the bed and head downstairs.
Back under the canopy of Bex’s trees, I feel right at home. The swaying fronds of palm trees against the setting sun are a peaceful farewell on my last night in LA. Liv and I banter with casual and easy chitchat, choosing not to rehash the millions of emotional miles we’ve each traveled this past week together. It’s like we’re back in our teenage bedrooms, a constant chatter between us.
“Oh my God, remember that time in seventh grade you stole your mom’s credit card number to buy Girl Scout Cookies?” I pour Bex another glass of wine. Why quit now?
“Ha! Yes! There was no way I was