An Awakening Read online

  The drive over to the van rental company isn’t a long one. My house is just outside of town and still pretty convenient. I can be done with this business in a half an hour or less and poke around afterward to get a feel for where things are. I already know where some essential places are located from my many trips to and through here. I did some minuscule hunting on my last trip to get the electricity on and things like that. Perhaps I should find a new place to eat. I really don’t feel like messing up the kitchen tonight.

  This is a nice little town. I always like passing through here, but today I discover a few things that passersby easily miss. There is a large park situated on the river where it spills into the Gulf, complete with a campsite on the beach and a playground for rambunctious little ones to enjoy. It also has boat ramps for the fishermen and a nice large pool.

  Besides the park, I find the town library, several restaurants and a friendly little downtown area that I can’t imagine has changed much in the past several decades. Charming, to say the least. The marina is on the opposite end of town from my house, near the park.

  Everyone I come into contact with today is very friendly. Most assume that I am a tourist or someone passing through. The others don’t seem to give any thought to who I am. Either scenario is perfectly fine with me. The sun is shining and it is warm out. I can tell that back home this would be considered a hot day, but with the constant sea breeze blowing inland off of the water, it isn’t hot at all. It feels wonderful, in fact. I decide that I just can not go home yet. It is a beautiful day and I want to be out in it.

  I decide to check out the area around the marina next. It’s like a little town within itself over that way. As I drive along in my four-year-old Jeep Liberty, I think again of the possibilities for me here. I can start all over. I can make a whole new life for myself or I can carry on where I left off and just relocate everything.

  “Why on earth would you do that, Jeriley? What a stupid thought!” I talk to myself this way to ensure that I don’t fall into a trap of pure madness when I get ludicrous ideas like this last one. Of course, I want to start over. “Pfft! You are smarter than that. Jeez.”

  On the other side of the marina, I pull up to a neat little place to eat that has a really big back porch over the water for those who want to dine outside. This establishment is situated in such a way that one can travel here by car or by boat. How welcoming. As I get out my stomach begins to growl. It appears my timing is perfect.

  Inside, the walls aren’t decorated in the usual nautical décor. The owner of this joint must be an outdoorsman. There is a rather impressive display of fish and other wildlife mounted throughout the building. A swordfish in the foyer, over the main entryway. A sailfish hangs in the largest dining room beneath a vaulted ceiling, over the doorway leading out to the porch. Other animals include a whitetail deer with a perfectly symmetrical set of antlers boasting eight points. There are birds including quail, dove, and even a duck posed as if they are in flight or perched on branches. It is a very tastefully decorated place. It isn’t tacky or overdone. There has obviously been a great deal of thought put into the layout and placing of these trophies. The atmosphere feels calming with the occasional hum of a passing boat and quiet music playing in the background.

  I choose a corner table out back so I can sit at the edge of the porch over the water. The waterway turns out to be larger back here than I originally thought. It is actually wide enough and long enough for a boat plane to take off and land. That would be something interesting to see. Maybe I’ll get lucky some time.

  The waitress brings a menu and takes my drink order. She returns rather quickly with my Coke and says she’ll give me a minute to browse. My mind begins to wander again. I ponder the boats in the marina. What are the owners like? What kind of lives do they live? Have they always lived here?

  I pull myself back to the menu in front of me and ponder on the items listed. There’s a variety of dishes to choose from and it isn’t pricey at all. I like this place already. Just as I decide on the Mahi-Mahi Plate, the waitress arrives to take my order. She does so sweetly and efficiently and I return my gaze to the water. It draws me. It always has. I’m like the water, I think. I mean, on the surface and at a glance, we are both very simple. Down deep inside, though, we both hold mysteries, deeper things. These things are not revealed to just anyone. Some things may never be revealed at all. Other things, those closer to the surface are not quite as easily hidden. They are easier to access. Perhaps everyone shares this parallel. I wonder if the sea buries its greatest treasures in its deepest parts. For the first time, I begin to think about other people and their depths. It has never interested me before. Sadly, I admit to myself that I have been a bit self-absorbed for as long as I can remember.

  I am pulled away from my thoughts by the sound of a boat nearing the dock to park. It is a very nice outfit. It has a sporty look with small windows, indicating a lower deck. Maybe I should get into boating. I could use a couple of new hobbies. These thoughts cross my mind as I watch the boat park. The driver turns off the engine and goes about the business of tying the boat to the dock. He does this in natural, fluid motions. He is obviously very comfortable in his actions. There is no hesitation in his movements. He’s an experienced boater. As he turns to walk up to the restaurant, his face comes into full view and my breath catches. He has the most pleasant features I have ever seen. I can’t stop looking at him. I am staring and I cannot look away. I hope he doesn’t look in my direction. If he does, I’ll be forced to break my stare and I really don’t want to do that. He is not extraordinarily handsome, I just can’t take my eyes off of him. His body is in great shape, not like one who works out religiously, though. He works for a living obviously and he probably tries to eat right, but he doesn’t appear to be obsessive about his body. His hair is a perfect medium brown color, slightly curly. It has that unruly look that always looks attractive. It’s not short or long. It has that “growing out” look like he could use a haircut, but he doesn’t have to get one. It makes me think he’s probably an easy going guy. He’s not too concerned with things like having his hair just so.

  Oh no! He’s looking over here! Look away, Jeriley! Too late. We make eye contact. His eyes are like sapphires. They are the brightest blue I have ever seen. He smiles and lifts his hand in a nonchalant wave. I smile back and force my head to lower trying to concentrate on the napkin in front of me as he walks past and goes through the door. I don’t think he noticed that I was staring like a complete idiot. I close my eyes, thankful that he is inside and I am out here because I find that I actually have to catch my breath. I can still see his face in my mind. He has a shadow of a beard and mustache. It has probably only been growing a day or so. It isn’t thick or long, just present. Pleasant is the word that comes to mind again. His gait is confident but easy, not aggressive.

  My breathing returns to normal as I open my eyes not daring to look up just yet. What in the world was that all about? I feel myself begin to slip back into reality, although I’m not quite sure where I went or what just happened to me. As I do, I notice that several tables, both inside and out here on the deck have been occupied by patrons ready for a meal. I find it odd that I missed their entrances. I must have been in a daze to have missed all the activity. I should have noticed the people filling two of the tables out here in any case, if not the ones inside. However, they are on the other end of the deck and none of them appear to be noisy.

  My friendly waitress returns with my plate and I remember my manners. I look up to thank her as she sets my plate down.

  “Would you care for anything else?” she asks.

  “No. Thank you.” I croak. Geez! What is going on with me? Can’t I even talk now? I clear my throat and try again.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “I’ll be back to check on ya in a bit.” She smiles and turns to walk away.

  I watch her go back inside and return m
y gaze to the water. Looking down through the railing of the deck I can see the water splashing against the poles that hold it up. It laps quietly and rhythmically. There is no more traffic on the water near here so soon the water has a chance to calm itself again. The little waves finally stop and the water is calm. I look up to start on my food. Maybe enough time has gone by since I had a temporary episode of some sort that I won’t choke and make a complete fool of myself. As I begin my meal, I am delighted that it tastes so good. Everything is just right. That is definitely a hard quality to come by in food. No salt needed, everything cooked to perfection. I’ll be eating here again.

  The door opens and he walks out. Instantly I am helpless again. Again, I can’t look away. This is pure craziness. I beg him, in my head, not to look my way this time. He walks all the way to the end of the deck and turns his head my way. He smiles and waves again, just like before, and continues toward to his boat. This time, I just sit there like a moron. He must think I’m as shallow as a puddle. I watch him untie the boat and get on board. He didn’t have anything in his hand, did he? I honestly can’t remember. I was too busy staring at that face to notice if there was anything in his hand. He takes off in the boat and heads up river away from town. As he passes by, he waves again. This time, I have sense enough to return the wave. I do so quickly and decide that I should probably finish my meal and go home. I finish eating and with impeccable timing, the waitress brings the ticket out. I pay quickly and head to my car.

  Once I get home, I change into my yoga pants and a t-shirt. The rest of the evening is a lazy one spent flipping through television channels and a couple of magazines before I hit the sack.

  The last thoughts of the day are filled with questions about the encounter at the restaurant. Who was that guy? Does he live here? Why did I react that way?

  “Good grief, Jeriley,” I think to myself. I grab my book and head to bed to read until I fall asleep.

  Sunday morning I am awakened by the sound of seagulls outside my window. After enjoying a peaceful night, I awake feeling well rested. My book is beside me with my thumb in the middle of the pages. Luckily I slept peacefully enough to save my place.

  As I lie in bed and let my mind gear up for the day, I decide to check out the park. Peeking out my window I see that it is another beautiful day and I surely don’t want to waste it. I get up and within an hour, I am out the door and driving down my secluded little path to the road. The radio is on one of those Christian stations again playing a song I’ve heard before but never really paid attention to. Before long I’m parking the Jeep in a spot down by the water. It is such a beautiful day for a walk. Again, the breeze is keeping the heat at bay and the sun feels so good on my skin. It is warm and welcoming.

  After walking around for about an hour and a half, I find a spot on the beach to rest. I have a beach blanket and a magazine with me just in case I decide to hang out for a while. As I’m flipping through recipes I can hear sounds all around. There are a few people in the park, but I wouldn’t call it a busy day. There are several boat trailers parked behind trucks down by the ramp area. No children are on the playground yet and there is a couple sitting together on the other end of the beach.

  I get lost in my recipes again and decide on a couple to try, marking them by folding the page corners. I love to cook. The only problem is I have only myself to cook for. Sometimes it seems kind of pointless. It is fun, though.

  I dog ear a page filled with deserts, determined to try one made with cream cheese and crescent rolls. It looks easy enough and I bet it would be delicious. I hear someone approaching and look up to see him walking up with a towel. It’s the guy from the restaurant yesterday. Too stunned to do anything dignified, I drop my magazine in the sand and fumble to lift my sunglasses over my eyes. He walks over and picks up the magazine shaking the sand out of it before he hands it to me.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Um. I was just… it’s ok. I just didn’t … I wasn’t paying any attention.” Gosh Jeriley, that was smooth. Sometimes if I could put my mind in front of me, I’d give it a good slap.

  I manage to look up at him and he is still holding the magazine for me. He smiles at me as he is kneeling down and I notice that he is looking directly at me. He looked at me yesterday and even waved acknowledging my presence, but that was more like a courtesy glance. This time, he is looking me straight in the eyes, like he is really taking notice. I feel warm all over. The constant breeze and the outdoor noises stop. Either they stopped, or I am suddenly oblivious to them. We stay this way for a span of about twenty seconds and instead of it feeling completely awkward, it’s as if we are catching up or reconnecting. Both scenarios being utterly crazy since I have never seen him before in my entire life, before yesterday. Or have I? No. Definitely not. I would not forget that face nor the reactions I seem to have each time I see him. Still, there is something so familiar about him.

  His smile broadens as he offers his hand to shake mine.

  “I’m Stephen.” His voice is like bells. It’s soothing yet still very masculine.

  “Jeriley,” I say quietly as I reach up to shake his hand and finally take the magazine from him.

  “Nice to meet you, Jeriley. Did you enjoy your meal yesterday? That was you on the deck down by the marina, right?”

  “Yeah, that was me.” Oh, no. He remembers me. “It was really very good.”

  “Yeah, that’s a great place to eat. Do you mind?” He motions toward the spot next to me on the sand.

  “Not at all.”

  He spreads his towel and sits next to me, but not too close, facing the water. His legs are propped up with his forearms resting on his knees. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes as if he is enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. I am staring again. I have got to stop this. This is ridiculous. I notice how relaxed I feel sitting by a perfect stranger. There is a calmness that seems to emanate from him, changing the quality of the air. I decide instantly that I like him.

  “What magazine you got there?” He asks as he looks over at me.

  “I, um.” I draw a blank and have to look down at it. “It has some recipes in it. I was just browsing.”

  “You like to cook?”

  “I do.”

  He smiles and looks out over the water. He gazes for a few seconds before a boat cruises by slowly. He watches it easily. He follows it downstream with his eyes. He grins, to himself it seems. I could be mistaken but it looks like his head shakes ever so slightly.

  “Do you know them?” I ask.

  “I do.” He doesn’t say anything else as the boat continues on. It moves very slowly, but it does eventually pass on by.

  “Friend of yours?”

  “No.” He breaks his concentration from the boat and looks at me.

  I am looking at him now with my eyebrows raised in question to his vague answers.

  “Just someone from work,” he says easily.

  “I see.” I take a deep breath and fiddle with my magazine a little. I want to know more about this Stephen but I don’t want to pry. I consider asking him about himself, but I am afraid he will expect me to reveal something of myself in return, and I am definitely not ready for that. This is only my second day here, after all.

  “So, what do you like to do besides cook, Jeriley?”

  Great. Didn’t I just decide that I do not want the focus on me?

  “Oh, not much. I don’t have a lot of free time.”

  He gives me this look and spreads out his hands as if to say, “You look like you have free time.”

  I laugh at his gesture and shake my head relenting.

  “I enjoy reading and being outside.” Maybe that will appease him.

  “Outside is nice.” He replies.

  “What about you?” I redirect with two purposes. I definitely want to change the subject from myself, but I
am also curious about this guy.

  “Well, I enjoy the outdoors, too. I like being on the water. That’s why I have the boat. I am pretty busy with my job, so I don’t have a lot of free time, either.”

  I nod my head and look down at the sand between us. I begin to play in it, picking up the grains and letting them fall from between my forefinger and thumb as I move them back and forth. I lift my hand to look at the few grains that are stuck to my fingertips. They are so tiny. Each one seems so insignificant. Collectively, though, they all matter.

  “Innumerable,” he says quietly.

  I look from my finger to Stephen with an expression of confusion.

  “The grains of sand. They’re innumerable. They can’t be counted.” He pinches the sand between his fingers just as I had.

  Is he a mind reader or something? I don’t say anything while I consider the number of grains I can see.

  “I have never thought of the sand that way. It seems so unimportant when you see one or two pieces stuck to your finger this way.” I hold a finger up and turn it towards him.

  “Nothing is insignificant,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “No?”

  “No. Everything has a purpose.”

  “So, what about randomness?” I am curious about his answer to this question.

  “Nothing is random.” He seems so serious.

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Hmm.” I pause briefly wanting to discuss this further, but I find myself hesitating. I take in a breath as I prepare to speak again and stop short.

  “What?” he asks with a slight tilt of his head to get a better look at my face.