Every Breaking Wave (2 page)

“The summer,” I answered. “I’ll be at my grandparents’ place.”

“I was sorry to hear of their passing,” she said somberly, even though it’d been five years.

“Thank you,” I said as she handed me my receipt.

“And who’s this?” she asked, smiling over to Noah, who’d finally stopped singing.

“This is my son, Noah.  Can you say hi, Noah?”

He didn’t say anything.  He just stared at Mrs. Parrish.

“Hello, Noah.  Welcome to Travers Cove.  Would you like a lollipop?” she asked and he smiled widely since he’d finished his Dum Dum halfway through our shopping trip.  Mrs. Parrish reached under the counter and handed Noah a new one.

“Thank you,” he said and I was relieved he’d remembered his manners without prompting. 

“You’re welcome,” she replied.

“Thank you, Mrs. Parrish.  I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

“Glad to have you back, Beth.”

I smiled and waved as I pushed the cart out to the parking lot.  The sun seemed to be attempting to break through the clouds, but it wasn’t having much luck.  Usually the ocean breeze was enough to keep the temperature comfortable this close to the water.  I was grateful that it was mid-June and although it warm, the humidity hadn’t made an appearance yet.

I buckled Noah into his seat and after loading the groceries, we made our way back to the house.  Noah tried to help me unpack and I was grateful for his enthusiasm, but all it resulted in was a bag of dropped apples and a jar of jelly that slipped off the table and luckily didn’t shatter.  He eventually lost interest and grabbed his tablet, cozying up on the couch while I finished the job.

It was nearly dinner time by the time all the groceries were put away and I decided to keep it simple: fish sticks and mashed potatoes.  My grandmother was probably rolling in her grave at the thought of feeding Noah boxed fish sticks when we were on the coast of Maine.  I’d make it down to the fish market eventually, but for tonight, Gorton’s would have to do and the potatoes would be out of a box.  Noah loved it and that was all that mattered. 

“How are the fish sticks?” I asked him as he swirled around his mashed potatoes.

“Good,” was all he said.

“Wanna play a game of Candyland after dinner?”

“No, thanks.  Can we watch a movie?”

“Of course.  Which one?”

“
Monsters, Inc.
”

I wasn’t surprised with his choice.  He’d seen it at least a million times.  I didn’t mind though. If he had to be obsessed with a movie, at least it was a good one.

It was quiet as we ate after that.  I hadn’t quite gotten the hang of making dinner conversation with an almost four-year-old by myself. 

I was surprised Noah cleaned his plate.  He was a picky eater sometimes, but luckily, tonight wasn’t one of those nights. 

I did the dishes and again, Noah insisted on helping.  I wasn’t going to deter him from that.  I was determined to raise a thoughtful, helpful boy. 

When the dishes were washed, dried and put away, Noah wanted a bath.  We’d brought every single tub toy with us and he was content for the next half an hour splashing in the water.   I changed the sheets on the bed while he bathed and I practically had to force him out of the tub when his fingers were prunes and the water was getting cold.  Once he was in his
Spiderman
pajamas, he climbed into what would become my bed for the summer.  I’d always been very good about Noah sleeping in his own bed, but I had a feeling he’d be sleeping with me tonight and I didn’t mind. 

I got myself changed into my own pajamas and then climbed under the covers beside him.  It was seven o’clock, and while the sun was setting, it was still light out.  The bedroom window was open a crack and I could hear the waves rolling in across the road at the beach.  It was a sound I’d loved whenever we came to Travers Cove and one I’d missed.

“Are you ready to start the movie?” I asked as he snuggled in beside me. 

“Yep,” Noah said, grabbing his binky and popping it into his mouth while I cued up
Monsters, Inc.
on the tablet.  We weren’t two minutes into the movie when Noah was cracking up, filling the room with his laughter…the most beautiful sound in the world. 

Half-way through the movie though, I realized I hadn’t heard a peep from him in a while and I looked down to see my son’s eyes closed, completely passed out.  He was exhausted.  I was exhausted too and I turned off the tablet, setting it down beside me before gently tucking Noah in, careful not to wake him.  He was still out like a light when I pulled the blanket up around him and slid out of bed. 

I tiptoed to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face.  After patting it dry, I looked in the mirror, my deep brown eyes staring back at me.  I looked tired and sad and not the way I’d imagined myself as I neared thirty.  I hadn’t always looked like this though.  I used to be vibrant and happy, when I was the type of person who believed if you lived your life right and treated people with kindness that that kindness would be reciprocated.  That if you respected someone, they would respect you in return. It was a painful lesson to learn that was not the case. 

I told myself I shouldn’t be angry at my ex-husband anymore. I shouldn’t let him determine how I felt about myself.  I should move on and accept the cards I’d been dealt, but I couldn’t let it go when I saw the way Noah ached for his father and I had to try and explain why Daddy and Mommy no longer lived together.  He didn’t understand though and since Noah spent most of his time with me, I was the one he took it out on.  I ached when he’d cry and ask why he couldn’t see his daddy, as if I was the one who had done this to his life.  I hadn’t been the one, but Darren was still Noah’s father and I couldn’t demonize him to his son, no matter how much I wanted to sometimes.  Instead, I would hold him while he cried, assuring him he’d see his father soon. 

As cliché as it sounds, when I married Darren, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world.  He was handsome and smart and I knew my life would be a good one with him.  An engineer by trade, I met Darren my senior year in college.  He’d graduated a couple of years before me and was already settled in his life.  I liked the stability and when we met, at a bar of all places, we’d instantly hit it off.  Darren was funny and confident and the strong man I was looking for. It didn’t take me long to fall for him and right after graduation, six months after we’d met, we were married and I was certain my life had nowhere to go but up after that.  It had for a while.  Darren and I were happy.  Happy was an understatement.  He loved me more than I ever expected to be loved and when Noah was born two years later, I knew my life was complete.  I should’ve known it wouldn’t last because if I’d learned anything over the past year, it was that my trusting heart had earned me nothing but hurt.

Sometimes I wondered if Darren would’ve ever told me if I hadn’t caught him.  How long would the lie have gone on had I not decided to come home early from the weekend away with my sister?  Noah had come down with a fever and rather than having him be miserable in a hotel room, I figured he’d be more comfortable being miserable in his own bed.  I wasn’t prepared for how much that decision would change my life. 

It’d taken everything in me not to kill them both when I realized what was going on.  She was supposed to be my friend and he was supposed to love me until death, but when I heard the laughter coming from upstairs when Noah and I walked in, my heart started to pound. I got Noah settled on the couch and luckily he fell asleep right away before I made my way upstairs. 

I’ll never forget the look on both of their faces when I walked in to see them together in our bed…the bed Darren and I shared, the bed we’d conceived Noah in. That meant nothing to him.  That was obvious because he’d brought another woman into that bed and now here I found myself, the ink on the divorce papers barely dry, trying to put myself back together and trying to be strong for the only person that mattered anymore: my son.

The sound of Noah stirring drew me back from the terrible memories and I quickly finished up, crawling in bed beside him when I was done.  I had no time for self-pity. 

Two

The haze that had engulfed Travers Cove on the day of our arrival was completely gone the next morning. The sun that shone through the curtains and woke me up was nearly blinding when I opened the drapes to look outside.  Noah was still asleep.  He slept like a rock, a gift he’d inherited from his father.  Noah had always been a great sleeper.  While I heard friends of mine complaining of sleepless nights when their babies were young, I was happy I couldn’t relate.  It wasn’t always a great thing though.  When we had to get somewhere early, it was always a struggle and work mornings were definitely no picnic.  But now that it was summer and we had nowhere to be for the next two months, I was grateful for my heavy sleeper. 

I skipped a shower.  I knew we’d be spending most of our day at the beach and a shower would be much needed by the end of the day. 

To make up for the fish sticks the night before, I began making pancakes for breakfast and not frozen pancakes or Bisquick, but pancakes from scratch.  I fried some bacon as well and I wasn’t surprised when Noah came walking into the kitchen.  Bacon was a sure fire way to wake him up.  The smell was like a pheromone, drawing him to the kitchen.  His blonde hair was a wild mess and his eyes still looked heavy, but when he realized I was making pancakes, a smile spread on his face and by the time breakfast was over, he’d eaten three along with six pieces of bacon.  When he asked to go to the beach as we were cleaning up the kitchen, I didn’t hesitate to agree.  I helped Noah get his swim trunks on and then I found my swimming suit.  It was nothing spectacular.  A simple black one piece because there was no way I’d ever show myself in public with a bikini on.  Those days had ended after I gave birth to Noah.  I once loved my body, but it’d never quite recovered from Noah.  It didn’t bother me though.  I was a mom and I loved Noah.  Cellulite and stretch marks were the least of my worries.

We packed a few snacks, grabbed our towels, umbrella and beach toys and made our way out the door and across the street to the beach.  It wasn’t crowded.  It was still early yet.  Nine o’clock to be exact and we found a spot.  Noah tried to spread out our towels while I got the umbrella situated, but all he managed to do was wad them up in sand covered balls.  I loved when he tried to help, even if it made more work for me. 

“Hold up!” I called to Noah as he tried scurrying towards the water the moment we were all set up. “Sun screen, buddy.”

He grimaced, but came running back and stood still as I slathered him from head to toe, then putting some on myself.  Unfortunately, Noah had inherited my fair skin.  I’d had my share of sunburns growing up and I didn’t want that to happen to him.

“Don’t forget your floaties.”

He never went out that far.  He knew how to swim a little, but the ocean made me nervous and I insisted on the water wings.  He didn’t fight me.  He was just happy to be at the beach. 

The water was cold and since it was still early, the temperature hadn’t caught up yet.  It didn’t bother Noah though and soon we were wading in the Atlantic Ocean.  He cracked up when he found a large bundle of seaweed and thought it would be funny to throw it at me.  It was slimy and gross and I peeled it off my body and tossed it onto his head, which elicited an even bigger laugh. 

We played and splashed for at least an hour and then it was on to building sandcastles, or at least my lame attempt at sandcastle construction.  I’d never been very good at it and Noah eventually just started smashing them as he pretended to be the Incredible Hulk. I didn’t mind though. After everything he’d been through over the past year, I wanted him to do whatever made him happy. 

He’d eaten a few of the snacks we’d brought throughout the morning, but by 11:30, he started complaining that he was hungry and tired.  Plus, I think he was getting a little bored with only me as his playmate.  I knew he’d eventually find kids his age to keep him company.  I hoped so anyway. 

I didn’t complain when he said he wanted to go home.  I did too.  We packed up our things and headed back across the street to our little house.  I made Noah a cheese sandwich, one of his current favorites at the moment, along with some sweet pickles, a taste he’d inherited from Darren.  The two of them could finish off a jar in one sitting.  The thought revolted me, but when Noah was handed a sweet gherkin, he was in heaven.  I opted for a ham sandwich and when we were done, we curled up on the couch to watch cartoons.  He was out before the first episode of
Paw
Patrol
ended.  I covered him up with a blanket since he was still in his swim trunks.  I thought about moving him to the bed.  He was a great napper, but I decided to leave him there.  He looked content and I decided a shower sounded nice.  I was sticky from the salt water and I knew I had sand in parts of my body that only a shower would dislodge. 

The shower was quick.  I never liked to stay in too long.  An unsupervised toddler was a recipe for disaster.  I figured I was safe since Noah had been out like I light when I left him on the couch, but I didn’t want to take any chances. 

I turned off the water, reaching for the towel and I heard a loud, high-pitched whizzing sound coming from outside.  I could tell it was close.  Too close for Noah’s nap time.  I stood there, listening for a moment and it seemed to get even closer.  I could’ve sworn it was right outside the back door.  I kicked it into high gear then, toweling myself off as best I could and running into the bedroom, throwing on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, not even bothering to put on a bra as my hair hung in wet mats down my back.  I was going to make a great first impression on whoever was outside. 

Once I was decent, although I would hardly call myself presentable, I walked hurriedly out of the bedroom and straight to the back door, opening it quickly, stepping outside and then stopping when I saw a man over by the flower bed.  He was tall and wearing jeans and an old t-shirt with a faded dark blue ball cap.  From the small pair of red socks on the back of his hat, I knew he was a Boston fan, which lessened my distain a little for the man on the verge of waking my son from his nap.  A Noah without a nap was not a Noah I wanted to deal with all night. 

I marched swiftly over to him, tapping him on the shoulder, knowing a verbal greeting would do no good thanks to the earbuds in his ears.  I realized when he jumped, touching an unsuspecting person wielding a power tool was probably not a good idea.  The noise immediately stopped though and he whipped around, yanking out the earbuds when he saw me.

“I could’ve seriously maimed you with this thing, you realize that, don’t you?”

He had a little smile on his face as he spoke to me, but I could tell he was also annoyed.

“Who are you?”

I knew the moment the words left my mouth, they sounded rude and accusatory, but again, I was just trying to survive and a well rested child would make that survival that much easier.

“Jeremy.  Jeremy Parrish,” he answered and the last name immediately caught my attention.  He was obviously related to the Travers Market Parrishes.  The town was too small for him not to be, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment.

“Can I ask what you’re doing?”

My voice was still snide and I saw the initial softness of his face fading, obviously due to my bitchy attitude. 

“I’m weed whacking.  I thought that was pretty obvious.”

Our eyes locked then.  I was annoyed that this stranger was on the verge of ruining my entire day by waking Noah up, but that didn’t stop me from noticing how pretty his brown eyes were. 

“I can see that, but why are you weed whacking over here?”

“I do this every Saturday.  I was hired by the owner, a stout bald man,” he said as his brown eyes moved over my body and I was suddenly extremely conscious of the fact that my boobs were hanging like two saggy pancakes. “And you are definitely not him.”

I glared at him and he glared back and we remained like that for a few tense moments.  We were obviously locked in a battle of wills and then I softened.  I knew I had to because I realized the overweight, follicly challenged man he was referring to was my Uncle Jerry, my dad’s brother.  Jeremy must be the person they’d hired to look after the place.

“No, I’m not him. I’m his niece and my son is inside napping…at least I hope he’s still napping,” I said, gesturing toward the weed whacker. 

I saw Jeremy’s face wince in regret and I knew I shouldn’t be acting so rude. 

“Hey, listen,” he said. “I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  I saw you guys pull in yesterday.  I meant to come introduce myself, but time got away from me and I saw you leave for the beach this morning. I didn’t know you’d come back already.  I thought now would be a good time to get this done so I wouldn’t disturb you.”

“You were watching us?” I asked suspiciously.

“Not intentionally.  My living room looks right into yours.”

He was being way too polite for how I’d jumped on his case, but he pointed to the house next door and I nodded, trying to figure out how I could turn down, or better yet, rewind the bitchometer. 

“I was startled is all, when I got out of the shower and heard the weed whacker.  Can you maybe come back another time?”

“Yeah, sure.  Sorry for the disturbance.” 

He didn’t wait for me to say anything else.  He just unplugged the machine and walked next door.  I didn’t stay and watch him.  Instead, I turned and went back inside to put on a bra. 

~~~

I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting to the house next door as I made dinner.  My boobs were now properly contained in a 34 C beige bra and I’d dried my hair so I no longer looked like a drowned rat, but I felt badly for how I’d jumped down my new neighbor’s throat when he was merely doing his job, a job my family had hired him to do. 

I was the first to admit I’d been on a short fuse for a while, the last year actually.  I wasn’t one to usually confront someone so abruptly the way I had with Jeremy.  I kept replaying the encounter in my mind and while the issue needed to be addressed, there was definitely a much more civilized way I could’ve handled it instead of coming off like a crazy banshee. 

“How about we make some cookies?” I asked Noah after we finished the spaghetti I’d prepared for dinner. 

He was all too happy with my idea and an hour later, we were using a spatula to slide the fresh chocolate chip cookies off the baking sheet and onto a paper plate.  I’d already had three and Noah had devoured two.  There was nothing quite like warm cookies straight from the oven and I had to restrain myself from eating any more. 

“Why are you doing that?” he asked me when I started wrapping the plate with cellophane.

“Because we’re taking them next door.”

“Why?”

I knew someday I’d miss Noah’s constant questioning, but that wouldn’t be any time soon.

“Because Mommy wasn’t very nice today and I need to say I’m sorry.”

I knew an explanation wasn’t necessary. I guess it was more for myself…to try and make myself feel better.  He looked at me curiously so I knew he didn’t understand what I was saying. My proclamation was more for me. 

A few minutes later, Noah and I both slid on our flip flops and headed out.  The lights were on in the house next door, so I assumed Jeremy was home.  I was nervous as we approached the front door and when we got there, I told Noah to ring the doorbell.  He loved ringing doorbells and I should’ve known he wouldn’t ring it just once.  He stood there, ringing it continually and I could hear the rapid dinging from outside.

“Noah,” I whispered, swatting his hand away. “Stop that.  Only ring it once.”

He smirked and then pushed the bell again.  Before I could wring his neck, the door was opening and I had to transfer the scowl on my face directed at my son to a warm, fake smile as I tried to erase the terrible first impression I’d given my neighbor.

“Is there a fire out here or something?” Jeremy asked when he opened the door. 

He had changed out of his jeans, replacing them with khaki shorts and a white t-shirt.  I tried to keep my eyes on his face so I wouldn’t notice the muscles in his arms or how good his calves looked in the shorts.  That didn’t help though because his face was just as nice to look at.  I hadn’t really paid attention earlier. I was too busy berating him and worrying if I was going to have to deal with a cranky child for the rest of the night.  He’d taken off the Red Sox hat, revealing a head of thick brown hair and a five o’clock shadow graced his jaw line.  The rugged, casual look seemed to suit my new neighbor. 

“Um…hi,” I said, shaking my head as I tried pulling myself together. “I’m sorry to bother you, but…we made cookies and I wanted to bring some by…as a peace offering.” I held the plate out and he looked down at it for a moment before looking back up at me and smiling as he took it. “I wasn’t exactly at my best earlier and I…I wanted to apologize for that.”

He unwrapped the cellophane and grabbed a cookie, taking a bite and nodding.

“I’ll forgive you because these are so good.”

“Truly, I hope you won’t call my uncle and resign because you’re much better at yard work than I am and you’ll hate staring at my lawn if I end up mowing it.”

He laughed a little, taking another bite.

“No worries.  We all have our days,” he said, our eyes meeting again as he smiled at me and then I watched as his gaze dropped to Noah.