Lost Her (Lost #1) (2 page)

“No, I will walk, I need to cool off
, see you at school,” he turns abruptly with an anger in his voice. He stalks out of my house and slams the door behind him. Great, I just pissed off my only friend and I crossed the line.

Listening to Chri
s Cornell on my iPod while walking to school with the dogs, I keep thinking of ways to correct my friendship with Parker. I turn the corner at the school and there he is with two coffees in his hand. He has been bringing me coffee since my second day of work. He hands the one cup to me and smiles. He speaks before I can get my words out, “I am sorry that I stepped over the line last night and I understand completely where our friendship lies. I know that you need more time.”

Ah, I feel so relieved. “Parker, I am sorry too and if you will have me, I would like to join you at the National Park this weekend,
” with a smile trying to correct my wrong.

“Great, you will have a lot of fun.
Ugh here sails in a boat of day trippers,” he sighs.

I turn to see the boat, “I hope that does not interfere with our kids pre-planting fútbol tournament today. Many of them do not go hiking and just lounge on the beach complaining when a soccer ball comes near them,” I reply with a grimace.

“I know, I know and let’s get these classes started, see you on the beach later,” waving as he heads toward his class.

It is fútbol time and the boys in my classroom are itching for me to release them to the beach. I love to watch the kids wiggle in anticipation. It reminds me so much of my son, Briar.

“Go,” as I wave my hand to them and they plow through the door to the beach. I follow with the new soccer balls in the net bag my daughter brought down with her for me. They run up to Parker who is calling out the player positions. The kids are playing and cheering. All they want to be when they grow up is on the fútbol team for Costa Rica.
These kids play like there is no tomorrow. I start to see the day trippers moving around on the beach to watch the screaming students. The kids can be quite exciting to watch.

I see a man who walks toward the sideline on the opposite side of the field. He has a familiar walk. I don’t have my sunglasses on, so I am squinting to see if it is one of the kid’s fathers. The man moves to the side and I can see his very muscular legs and arms. I make out my three dogs. They are at this man’s feet like they scented him as familiar. My hand rises to cover my mouth in awe. His head turns to look at me and he puts his hand up to wave to me from across the soccer field. There, standing across the field is my husband, Ryan. Then it dawns on me why he is here: he has brought me divorce papers.

Ryan
- After my daughter came back from my all-expense paid trip for her and her girlfriend, Noelia, to visit her mother, prompting her for information was very easy. Katie spilled everything, from where Livi is living, how to get there, where Livi is working and all about her new friend who my daughter assures me wants to be more than just friends. Frustrated, I am at the end of tolerating Livi’s behavior. Since our son died, she has been out of control. She was so grief stricken, she lost her job and it made it next to impossible for us to pay the bills. She kept pleading with me that she needed a change of scenery, too many memories and she could not move on. She wanted to sell the house and move. I put my foot down a few times and reminded her that I work here and I support the family since she failed to keep her job. A day of extreme anger sparked for me on Christmas Day when her depression was over the top and she checked out mentally at my family’s holiday dinner. We had an argument on the ride home. I told her I was done and want a divorce; she was gone within the week. She sold one of her trucks, packed her stuff, and took the dogs. A week later I learned that she cleared out her retirement fund. I knew that she went to Los Angeles for about a month to stay with her childhood friend, Chris. Chris would check in with me often to keep me posted on Livi’s metal state. Chris called me one day and told me that Livi left him a goodbye note with no information about where she was going. Another good friend of Livi’s, who would not divulge any information, had set her up with a new job, but no one was telling me where she was. At that point, I was fine with her leaving since I was still blaming her for our son’s death. I really needed time myself to heal.

So, here I am in Costa Rica in a remote beach town and as my daughter describes it, a village. I came over on the tourist boat. I do not want to alert Livi of my visit or she will go into hiding again. I sit on the beach for the day, waiting to see her leave school. I walk back and forth near the school, so as not to miss her. Then I hear her voice yelling out some Spanish words. No clue what she is saying since I never picked up the language, despite her encouraging me to learn it. I walk toward the voices and chanting, and see a soccer game going on with a bunch of kids. I spot Livi! She is chanting and clapping her hands. I assume she is cheering on her students.

I have not seen her this alive since our son’s last hockey game. She looks happy, but then I notice her appearance. She is very thin and her hair is blonde. She either stopped dyeing her hair dark or the sun bleached it out. I always told her she looked better with darker hair, but that’s because she is so pale skinned. Now, seeing her with a slight tan and long blonde, spiral curled hair naturally was an attraction for me. On our vacations, she used to get upset how the humidity would make her hair curl up. I always reinsured her that I liked her hair curly. She is very self-conscious about her looks and felt that she needed to please me all the time. She is a people pleaser at her own expense. It is a joy to watch her excited about the children playing soccer. She is still clapping and cheering, just like she did for me in college and then later for our children.

I see a tall blonde man coaching the children and he side steps over to Livi. He pulls her by her hip toward him to point out a player. Then he comes in closer and whispers something in her ear. She faces him then laughs as she pushes him back with both her hands on his chest. I am flashing red; I think I have just become overwhelmed with jealousy. Why is she touching him like that? Is what Katie said true, Livi has moved on? Then I feel my legs being swiped by my dog Selene, in that loving way she always does when I come home. Then I am greeted by my other two dogs, and I drop to my knees to them in the sand. I am petting all three dogs as they lean into me. I look back across the field and my eyes meet with Livi. I try not to get knocked over by the dogs’ excitement; I lift my hand and wave once at her.

Livi
- I am so scared. My legs feel like Jell-O and I feel anger toward Katie for letting my husband know where I am. I cannot deal with Ryan wanting to throw our 22 years of marriage away, but I am still guilty of Briar’s death. I slowly walk around the fútbol field toward him. When I get there he is still rubbing the bellies of our 3 dogs. I have no idea what to say to him. All I see when I look at Ryan is Briar and my heart bleeds again. Ryan is a constant reminder of Briar. My memories flash back to Ryan screaming at me not to allow Briar to ride the quad in the sand pit with his friends; Ryan reminding us how dangerous it was. That day, Ryan had to go into work about some new exculpatory evidence. Briar kept chasing me around bothering me to let him go with his friends. I kept saying, “Call your father.” I did not want to be the bad guy that said no to Briar all the time. Ryan was not picking up his cell phone. I gave in because I remembered back when I was a kid riding in the sand pits. It was a normal pastime for New Jersey rural kids. We would get scrapes and bruises, but it was no big deal. Briar ran to get his helmet. Next thing I remember is the fire department calling to tell me that Briar was being helicoptered to the hospital. I tried to call Ryan again, but no answer. I went to the hospital alone and sat with Briar for 17 minutes until he passed from internal injuries. The quad had rolled over onto his chest. I can’t remember when I was joined by anyone else at the hospital. I was sedated about 15 minutes after Briar left me. I knew it was my fault entirely.

Back to the reality of the present: Ryan stands up as I approach. He is smiling at me and my mind is shocked because I have not seen him smile since before the accident. His jet black hair has no more than a few strands of silvery grey that glisten in the sun. His green eyes are so clear and reminding me why I have always been so attracted to him. His very full lips, which Katie inherited, are blowing kissing sounds at the dogs. He is making it very hard not to love him right now, as he is being so silly with the dogs. The only words I can manage are, “Hey.”

Ryan places both hands on my shoulders and whispers, “Hey, you too,” and places a small kiss to the corner of my mouth. I stand in awe that I get that much affection from him. He crouches back down to rub the dogs and looks up at me with a grin. “I missed these guys,” he winks with a pause, “And you too.” All I can muster is a return smile. “What time do you get done work?” he asks.

I am still looking down at him. I am still in awe that he is here and looking happy. I force out an answer, “2 o’clock, and so another 30 minutes of fútbol.”

Ryan looks up at me, “
Fútbol
, you mean soccer,” as he laughs trying to be funny. I just nod yes. “I will hang on the beach and wait for you if you don’t mind,” he says assumingly confident that I won’t hide out on him.

I respond with almost a whisper, “There is a Cantina over there where you can get some food if you are hungry,” pointing to the small shack near the road.

“You are always thinking about my stomach, but yes. That sounds good if you will join me there in 30 minutes? And also, I am holding the dogs ransom, so you better appear.” He laughs. I again just nod and head back to cheer on my students with their game.

I am back on the sidelines and Parker runs over to me. “Was there a problem with a day tripper?” he asks with a concerned tone.

Still in shock, all I can muster is a “Yeah, and I am meeting him at the Cantina in 30 minutes.” Parker stops, turns Ryan’s way and notices that the dogs are all over Ryan.

Parker then looks at me, “Why would you do that, silly lady, getting mixed up with a day tripper for 15 minutes until his boat leaves?” When I provide no emotion and still appear shocked, Parker asks, “Do you know him?”

Still looking at Ryan in awe, I respond to Parker’s question, “Yes, that is Ryan, my husband.”

Nothing words are exchanged between Parker and I for the next 30 minutes until we dismiss our students.
I love the Latin, Central American, South American, Spanish, Italian, Greek cultures. They are the most affectionate, loving people, so different from Americans. Their hugs and kisses mean more to me than anything I have ever felt at home in New Jersey. These are genuine humble people that love unconditionally. As my students and their families hug and kiss me goodbye, I can feel Ryan’s eyes piercing through me from the Cantina. Ryan, being English and Italian, hasn’t known this type of love. I have never seen it from his family. He just looks so confused why children and their parents hug and hold me like there is no tomorrow. I love this feeling, I need to be hugged liked this. Then my brain wanders, maybe Ryan is wondering if these people know that I am the reason Briar is dead. I turn my back to him for the rest of the goodbyes until all my students have left. I head up to the school to get my planner and bag. There is no Parker in sight, so I gather my pride and head over to the Cantina. Now I am being a bad girl, walking very slowly toward the Cantina fully knowing that Ryan has only a few hours to make his boat back to Limón. The less time I have to spend the better for the heartache of impending divorce.

Ryan has not wasted any time, he is seated with all types of lavish food and alcoholic drinks on the table while still cooing at my dogs. I walk up the two steps and take in my surroundings. Ryan is in front of me and Parker is sitting at the end of the bar trying to make it seem like he is interested in what Rosalie is saying. Rosalie is the owner of the Cantina.

I feel so much love for my best friend Parker right now, not letting his girl go down without backup. What a man! I see on the clock that it is 2:30pm, so I have until 4pm. Just 90 minutes until the day tripper boat leaves and takes Ryan with it. It is enough time to talk me into to signing the divorce papers, but I am still hesitating. Ryan looks up at me as I climb the stairs. With his typical northern New Jersey accent and agitation with tardiness he says in his New Jersey boy tone, “You’re late and you made me wait!” Oh my gosh, really? Is Ryan going to go back to that cut throat Jersey attitude with me as my brain goes defensive.

I respond meekly, “I am so sorry, my students come first.” YES, SCORE! I kicked it right back at him, since his career always came over his family’s life.

“All good,” he responds with a big smile, “I can see the students and their parents love you. They know that you are a very caring person,” he responds with a big goofy smile. I may have to tell Rosalie to lay off the tequila. He cannot handle fermented agave at all. Ryan gestures me to eat. I glance over the dishes and realize Ryan has ordered all of my favorite Latin dishes from back home. I must say I am in shock, but I know that he is buttering me up to sign the papers. Ryan seems like he is getting wasted.

Parker is still watching from afar when he signals me that Señor Marquis is heading toward me. Oh no, please no gringo jokes now. Ryan is known to be over the top with his Americans are the best attitude and he can be quite condescending. I am going to admit that Señor Marquis is always dead on with his jokes, but Ryan is a very sensitive Americano. Ryan never can handle his tequila, he does not get angry or silly, and he just throws up. He is laughing and chuckling at Señor Marquis jokes. Ryan is wasted gone and there is no way he is getting on a small catamaran tonight. Then I realize that the boat left already. I look at Ryan and I ask, totally taking advantage since I know he can’t lie drunk, “So, Rye, why are you here?”

He looks at me like he is sober and responds, “I want my wife back before she shacks up with a surfer boy,” he gestures with his head toward Parker. Now I am blindsided with his comment, he must be drunk, I think to myself and know that Katie told him too much information.

I look him into the eye and ask, “Where are you planning on staying tonight?”

He admits that Katie told him that I have a pull out couch. 
“I am staying on your pull out coach tonight, but not tomorrow night though.” he sighs his voice into silence. My mind again plays on the tequila filled words that he is leaving tomorrow, but I raise my hand to close out his check so I can get him home up the hillside.

I walk over to the bar to pay the tab and Parker speaks very quietly, “Maybe I should run and get your Land Cruiser for you, so you can bring him back to your house”.

I turn to Parker with a constant nod, “Nah, but thank you, I think the walk in the dark will help him sober up”.

Parker smiles at me “See you tomorrow Olivia.” I look back at Ryan and wonder why he got so wasted. He never drinks like this and the last time he did was over ten years ago. I just keep thinking that he is going to be so sick later tonight.

I head back to the table and start picking up my school bag and Ryan’s bag. “Rye, it is time to go,” I speak sternly.

“How about one or two for the road?” he says turning toward Rosalie.

“No Ryan, I have to get home before it is completely dark and I have to work in the morning,” I say as I am lifting him by his elbow. He stands and follows me down the two steps. I am walking pretty fast as we are losing light pretty fast.

“What is your hurry?” Ryan asks as he speeds up his step to be in line with me walking.

“I do not like to walk in the dark up the hillside, there are too many animals,” I say as I keep my gaze forward watching for movement on the road.