Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Oh.”
“Actually … I shouldn’t call him that anymore. He is not the love of my life. He’s someone I said goodbye to a long, long time ago.” The guy takes a huge bite from his sandwich, then chews with anger. “I’m still mad,” he says between chomping. “Wish he didn’t know me at my worst. I was such a brat. Selfish and impulsive. Now, no matter where I go, no matter who I’m fucking, I just keep getting glimpses of that brat I used to be. Why can’t I let him go? I can’t love myself—I can’t accept myself—unless I say goodbye to that brat, too, that asshole I used to be.” He goes for a vigorous sip from his drink, then glances at me. “Sorry, I’m ranting at you and you don’t even know me.”
“It’s fine,” I decide with a shrug. “I think I get it.”
He takes another bite, then looks at me. “You do?”
“Sure. People have an impression of me because I’m in a relationship with an older guy. At least I think I am. They want to call him my sugar daddy. Or they think I’m just whoring myself out for gifts and money.”
“Really? That’s not a big deal. I was with an older guy, too, back in my day. He was in his late twenties. And I was the hot young ass in town who just graduated high school and had cash to burn one weekend.” He shakes his head. “Little did I know that one weekend would change my whole fucking life.”
I let go of my knees and sit normally on the bench with a tired sigh. “I’ve been fighting people’s opinions of me for pretty much forever.”
He nods. “Same. If it means anything, you sound like a pretty decent guy to me.”
“I’m far from decent.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re only saying bad stuff about yourself because someone else put those words in your head. Who did that? Asshole parents? I’ve got two of those. A clique of bad influences for friends? Got those, too. Nothing surprises me anymore. You’ll come to learn as you get older that you’re a much better person than you think you are. Just ignore those bad voices in your head.”
“It isn’t so easy to just ignore it.”
“I know.”
“I just want to be myself and live my stupid little life without prying eyes and questions. But my past haunts me everywhere I go. It clings to me.”
“The past is a bitch,” he agrees between bites, glaring at the street and shaking his head.
“It is. It really is.”
“So how do we let it go, my friend?”
I give him a look. “Friend?”
“There has got to be a way to get past our … past.” He pulls something out of his mouth with a disgusted grimace, then flicks it onto the paper with a sigh. “I said no pickles.”
I shrug. “I don’t have an answer. It’s why I’m out here by myself, sitting on this stupid bench, debating what my next move is when I skip town.”
He looks at me. “Skip town?”
I nod. “Yeah. I think my time here is over. Paradise has had me and let me go.”
“No, don’t give up yet. You’re one of the nice ones. I can tell and I’ve barely known you five minutes. Ugh, you have clearly been hurt by an asshole. Probably by someone like how I used to be. Dreamwood collects driftwood, too. Just be smart enough to tell the difference and don’t get discouraged so fast, man. You gotta toughen up.”
“I’m tough enough. It’s not about being tough.” I look away. “It’s just time I start being realistic and … and face whatever the real world out there has in store for me.”
“‘The real world out there’ …? Honey, the real world’s right here, too. Dreamwood is just as real. What exactly are you picturing on the other side of that causeway? A boring job? A boring boyfriend your age? Being just like everyone else? Fucking overrated. Wake up. You’re badass the way you are. Look at you, smart enough to not eat something a stranger gave you. Shit … you’re making my younger self look like a real dumbass. I was such a clueless twat.”
I find myself thinking about that old lady, about Pearl. I ate the sandwich she gave me. Every last bite. Chugged most of the water and put the rest away in that backpack I used to have until it was stolen one night while I slept.
“Wanna hear something truly pathetic?” he asks with a snort. “I’ve dragged myself to this island every weekend for a whole damned month with the same intention … then keep chickening out.”
I look at him. “What intention is that?”
“Doesn’t matter. Too chicken to do it.” He shakes his head. “Maybe my own advice is shit. The island is trying to tell me something and I won’t listen. I should leave, too. Like you. But for good this time.”