II. Steve McQueen

The trip from Memphis to the gulf coast should take about seven hours but our family was able to extend it to about ten because of multiple restroom breaks, actually stopping to eat for lunch, buying fruit from a stand that had had a giant peach in front of it and a few more restroom breaks.
It made me want to get my own car and drive myself ahead of everyone, to embrace the quietness and that year was not an exception, but, fortunately, we had a large vehicle and I barricaded myself in the back row of our van with my notebooks and laptop. If the van pulled over, I never noticed as I was in my own world, still trying to find a way to mix zombies and sex. Tragically, not even Rob Zombie could help me with that. We arrived at the coastal town of Orange Beach at six-thirty and were partially situated in our condo by seven fifteen, after several trips to the parking garage and up to our room.
I decided not to wait until the morning as I stashed my suitcase and backpack into my room and went out to the balcony. The sun was still high in the western sky but the clouds blocked out any display of majesty.
The beach was vacant of people, at least as much as I could see as we were so high up and far enough away that everyone looked like rocks or sticks bobbing in the water.
The air smelled salty, but there was also a dead smell to it.
“No, that’s just my hopes and dreams,” I said to myself, hoping that no one was on the balcony next door.

We’re going to the store, anything you need us to pick up?” Mom asked from inside.
“The strongest coffee they sell,” I replied.
“Will do,” Mom replied as she stepped onto the balcony. “What a lovely sunset.”
“Yep,” I replied.
“I hope you’re not going to hole yourself up in your room.”
“No, I kind of thought of being out here on the balcony. There’s a power socket and there will be sunshine and the sounds of the surf.”
“I want you to at least come down to the beach with us tomorrow morning before you barricade yourself on the balcony.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course mom.”
“I may need you to watch your sisters.”
“Boys?”

Mom nodded. My younger sisters: Serena and Sia, were sixteen and fourteen years-old yet at times they acted as if they were toddlers or adults: depending on what get them what they want. They each brought a friend with them on our trip—I didn’t care at first but the more I thought about it worse it got: as Serena’s friend, Ally, had all my books and always looked at me with “that” look—a look I never reciprocated as she was sixteen and more like a sister to me and I never wanted to break that line.
“I’ll try to crack a few heads if they get near them,” I replied as mom patted my right shoulder and went back in.

They left me alone in the condo and I took a few minutes to sit on the couch to contemplate turning on the massive flat screen. I declined, instead I walked around the place and tried to imagine that I knew enough people to hold a small party. Nothing huge. Nothing loud or annoying, just a few friends to sit with and talk about life.
I didn’t have any to do that with.

I always gave my characters a chorus or a sardonic friend to play off of but I was my own sardonic friend who didn’t have a main character to help get out of trouble. I went back out onto the balcony and wondered, for a split-second, what it would feel like to jump form the 14th floor and free fall. Would I feel weightless? Would I hold my head up and fall looking like one of those “Sky Dancer” toys? Could I fly?
Yeah, it was a negative thought that hung up in my head a few seconds longer than I wanted it to.

A cold shiver enveloped me but I shook my head. “Use it. It’s character obsession gold,” I whispered to myself as I went back in and closed the glass door.

“Spencer!” Help us with the food, please!” Mom yelled from the front door.

III. All I Wanna Do
I woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee. We may have been at the beach, but the traditional southern breakfast was still the norm.
“We’re all going to the beach,” Sia told me as I walked out of my room.
“Swell,” I replied as Sia’s friend, Kat, ran past the both us to one of the bathrooms.
“You are coming, right?”
I sort of shrugged my shoulders and nodded in reply and then walked to the dining area.
“Where’s dad?” I asked as Mom stacked several pieces of bacon and a biscuit onto a plate for me.
“He’s looking into renting a jet ski.”
“Dad? On a jet ski?” I asked as mom handed me a cup of coffee.
“Make sure you get a good video of it.”
“I’ll post it on my Instagram!” Serena yelled from down the hall.
“Seriously?” I asked as I tried to not think of my father and mother on a jet ski. Going, maybe fifteen miles an hour and losing his sunglasses in the water.
“Yes,” mom said. “I said we should do a dolphin cruise. Here, eat. You’re supposed to go with the girls to the beach.”
“But you really don’t have to!” Serena barked.
“Saying that means I have to. It’s kind of the ‘brother code’ kind of thing.”
“Puz-lease,” my sister replied with a scoff.
Mom nodded at me.
“Come on, I want to have some fun on the beach before I die!” Serena said as she appeared from the hall with Ally. They both wear long t-shirts that hid their suits—or what was passed as suits, barely. They also had backpacks full of stuff; water bottles and some beach gear most likely.
“You’re sixteen.”
“Yeah, how old are you and you look like you’re dead already.”
“This is just from our Irish roots.”
“No it’s because you never go out into the sun. It’s like you’re a vampire.”
“Just wait.” I replied as I took a sip of coffee.

Fifteen minutes later I took up the rear as the five of us walked to the beach. I only brought a towel and my sunglasses so every one, except for Ally, demanded that tI Cary their stuff. She took the time to ask me, and I said: “sure, no problem.”
And they left me in the dust, or sand, as they ran ahead to the shoreline.
“Where do I put all of this stuff?”
“Find a spot!” Serena shouted back.
“I can do a lot with that phrase!” I so wanted to chuck everything to ground—except for my towel—and keep on going, but instead,I like a dutiful brother and son, brought everything to the deck chairs that we reserved.
The chairs were next to a another group of girls and I tried to avoid looking at them too much while trying to not make a mess of all of my sisters’ stuff.
I wasn’t successful, as a bag fell down and spilled onto the sand. I moved to the other side and scooped the suntan lotion, water and what looked like some kind of dress back into the bag.
The girl in the chair next to me didn’t care that I looked like Godzilla stomping Tokyo into oblivion: she was deep into a book she was reading.
I looked at the cover: Springtime Serenade.
I felt a rush of fear which segued into euphoria and then into a subtle calm.
“Hello,” I said as I took off my sunglasses.
She took her eyes off of the book and looked at me with a small smile. “Hi.”
“Sorry, but can I ask you a question?”
“I guess so,” she asked as she squinted her eyes at me. She had light red hair that draped lightly over a long shirt.
“Do you like that book?”
“Oh, I love it. I’ve read it about five times now. There are times I absolutely hate it.”
“How so?”
“It’s like what I think true love should be like. But, it’s not, and I’m like, wanting that guy to come up from down the road, walking up only to me; even after everything that’s happened.”
“Is a there a change you’d make to it, if you could ask the author?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, what would you tell him?”

I admit, that at that moment, she could say she wanted all of my characters to die a violent, fiery death and I wouldn’t have cared.

“That he needs to open up to people. It’s written so brightly I feel like he’s stuck in some tower or house and doesn’t get out much.”
“You’re not too far from the truth. Spencer Logan.”
“Skye Daniels.”
“Skye with a “y” or an “e”?”
“Both. So, you’re the same Spencer who wrote this?”
“In the pasty white flesh, yes.”
“Do you talk to all of your readers like this?”
“Barely.”
“So, why did you ask me?”
“Just thought I would, you know?”
“Sit down. I feel like I should ask you for an ID or something but, instead: do you have control over who they pick for the characters, so we’re not going to have Shailene Woodley as Becky?”
“Yeah, well, like John Greene, I don’t have control over the stars. Who do you have in mind?”
“Nicole Maines. She’s the perfect fit for Rebecca. I’ll have to show her to you.”
“A friend of yours?”
“I wish.”

IV. Light In Your Eyes

I spent almost an hour just listening to Skye talk. She had unique accent to her voice. I couldn’t place it at all but I just sat there with my head following everything she said.
“Where you from?”
“Georgia,” she replied as she adjusted her shirt. At that time we were sitting next to each other like we had been friends for years.
“Nice place.”
“Not like this. I know you’re from Memphis.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been there, rode on a riverboat.”
“Haven’t done that.”
“Been to Graceland?”
“No, can’t say I have.”
“I thought everyone in Memphis got a free pass to the jungle room at birth.”
“I sold my on eBay.”
“Skye!”
I looked up to see an older girl, well, maybe someone in her twenties, standing over us. She has short hair and several tattoos on her arms and legs. She probably had others on her back and chest, but she had a towel draped over her shoulders and her her arms were crossed over her chest like she wasn’t happy to see me.
“It’s like ten and you’re still reading? We’re at the beach. Come on!”

Skye grabbed her book, jumped up and stood next to the new person.
“Oh. My. God, Katie! Do you know who this is?”
“”Should I?”
She had a point.
Skye looked at me and moved her hands back and forth. “This is Kate, my older sister.”
“Hello,” I replied, not sure if I had to apologize.
“And?” Katie asked her sister.
“And. Look at the picture on the back. Of. This. Book.” Skye shoved the tome in front of her sister’s face. Katie looked like she was ready to either slap the book away or Skye.
“Are you reading this again? It’s like what, the eight time?”
“Ninth, but who’s counting?”
“You are. You-“ Katie looked at me and then at the back of the book. “So he looks like the guy on the back of the book?”
“He is,” Skye moved towards me, slapped her hands on my face, like I was a mound of Playdoh, “the guy on the back of the book.”
“You’re embarrassing us.”
“No I’m not. He’s used to me by now.”
Katie rolled her eyes and scoffed. “So why aren’t you in New York or LA? Hooking up and laughing all the way to the bank?”
“I’ve never been to New York or LA.”
“Seriously? I mean, you’ve been on TV and the internet and magazines and in pictures on-,” Katie stated and Skye’s face turned a darker shade of red with each phrase.
“Katie, he gets the point!”
““I’m sure he’s not the only one. Put the book down, bring him, and get in the water.”
“Care to swim?”
I nodded in reply as I followed the sisters. They whispered in low tones and Katie sprinted into the ocean. Skye slowed her walk down to match with me.

“Kate loves the water. Actually, no she loves the way she looks in the water. And out of it. In a bikini or whatever. She went topless once. I could go topless, but I don’t think people would notice me if we stood side by side.”
I didn’t say anything—for as much as I wanted to it was best to just let her do the talking.
“There I go, blabbing everything.”
“No, feel free to tell me anything you want.”
“I don’t think I should tell you too much about my life. That would ruin the utopian new adult mommy porn empire you got going.”
“I’m always up for new ideas.”
We stepped into water and wave breaks threatened to knock us down.
“Really? I assumed that it was all up there,” she pointed at my head.
“Nope. It’s all in the eyes, looking at the crazy and the beauty in life.”
“Do you see crazy or beauty right now?”
“We’re a little bit of both.”
“Good answer,” she replied with a wink.

She wore the t-shirt into the water and it clung to her body. I would be lying if I said I didn’t notice. She reminded me of everything other than characters I had in my stories or the people I met at book parties. She was more like the people who came to the small town book signings: the ones who weren’t out there to impress anyone, much less try to impress me. Of course, I never just walked up to any of them-they would walk up to me and yes, a few left their phone numbers but I never got to see them as someone from the publisher would gather them up and then, out of sight, out of mind.
I still wonder how many people must think I’m stuck up or something.
Hopefully, they would assume I was just an idiot who wouldn’t know what to do if I actually contacted one of them.
I was trying my best to be the good guy in all of this.
The clueless good guy
The “please, don’t let her think I’m a ‘that’ kind of person ” good guy.
“You don’t talk to your fans much, do you?”
“I try at signings, but there’s only so much time and the lines are long.”
“So you would talk to them for as long as they wanted ?”
“I’d go to a local coffee bar and sit with them if they wanted.”
“There’s one down the street. We should go. Like a kind of date thing, you think?”
“Yes,” I said with no amount of filter in my voice or my face. Skye threw back a laugh as she dove into the water.

We swam out to the deeper water where our feet barely touched the sand. In that particular moment I thought about where my sisters were and who they were with. It was difficult see with the waves crashing through every five seconds.
I could barely see them on the shoreline, several feet from the beach chairs. It looked like there was only four of them.
Good.
Not that I cared too much if they met people and talked to them.
Asking them to move in with us would be a different story.
Insisting that they share our condo and maybe the rest of our lives, that was too much to ask for.
But maybe there was a chance at that, one day.
“Have you ever been on a jet ski?”

V. Every Day Is a Winding Road

An hour later we were on said jet ski. We went over the safety drill with the operator, the death stares from my sisters and the look of concern from my parents as we took off into Wolf Bay. My parents followed us, but I didn’t wait for them. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone except myself. It was as close to being on a motorcycle with a woman as I had ever been up to that point.
We passed under the bridge connecting the island to the mainland, which was a ‘no wake’ zone.
“How fast does this go?” Skye yelled.
“Sixty-five!”
“Let’s do it! We have life jackets on!”
We were then in the Gulf of Mexico
“You sure?”
“Make it so!” Skye wrapped her arms around my vest the best she could due their sizes.
I pulled back on the throttle and we took off into the ocean.

The water was choppy and, for a split-second, the thought of flipping over crossed my mind but we smashed through the waves and piloted the wave runner deeper into the gulf.
“Mind if I try?” Skye asked.
“Fine by me,” I replied with the utmost optimism but I thoughts that we were both going to die.
I powered the runner down, removed the key from my wrist and gave it to her. She strapped it to her and then we performed a small dance to rearrange ourselves on the craft.
“Okay how do I turn this on?”
“Put the release key in the slot.”
“Okay.”
“Flip the key to on.”
“Gotcha.”
“Push start.”
“And we are alive!”
The engine fired up and I put my arms around Skye, trying my best to not grab onto her too much. However, she pushed back onto me so I inched closer.
We took off and were soon at full acceleration.

Those feelings that we were going to die faded away. Skye could bank it so we were close to flying off and it didn’t bother me at all—it felt like a rush of adrenaline spiked with a double shot of espresso, at least until the waverunner died.
“I think we’re out of gas,” Skye said as she flipped the switch again.
“Shouldn’t be. It was a full tank.”
“Sorry,” she replied with a very afraid tone.
“It’s nothing,” I replied. “At least I didn’t say it.”
“Sounds like a bad plot device.”
“It is, but it can happen,” I replied as I looked around us: we were very far out into the water.
“Happened to you before?”
“No, but here we are.”
“Yeah.”
“Actually, this is kind of like how I want to start a book. Future time, everything covered in water.”
“Like ‘Waterworld’?” Skye asked as she unbuckled her life vest. I was going to say something but I admit I was in awe as I was able to see a glimpse of her skin beneath the t-shirt.
“Something tropical, Caribbean, maybe.”
“Okay.”
“And the heroine is out on the water, approaching an inland when she sees this guy running for his life—from a pack of zombies.”
“On a tropical island?”
“The mystery on how they get there is a part of the plot. Anyway, he’s also a zombie, but he looks normal.”
“So we’re talking magical zombies and not nuclear or the ‘Resident Evil’ type?”
“Yes.”
“Does the girl have like necromancer powers?”
“Necro what?”
“A spell caster. He can bring people back from the dead. I read this book about a necromancer sho is just about to understand his powers and he inadvertently brings this guy back to life. The guy doesn’t know who he is, but he had a dark death.”
“Maybe I should include some kind of witch doctor who has a zombie hired hand of her own?”
“Actually, That’s kind of who his mentor is.”
“Who wrote this story?”
Skye turned to the beach, leaned towards me and then slipped into the water.
I contemplated whether or not to just sit on the runner and scream for her or to jump into the ocean. I unclimbed my vest and jumped in after her.
Of course, I couldn’t see a thing and I could only grope around in the water. It was only after I was in the water that I realized that it wasn’t a good idea as the current could have stepped both of us out further into the gulf
The life preservers were nowhere to be seen.
That, and the damage deposit on the runner was almost a thousand dollars.
Also, it was not how I wanted the day to end.
I surfaced and found myself on the other side of the water craft.
“Skye!”
“Spencer!”
“Where are you?”
“Where are you?”

I swam to the vehicle to see Skye’s hand grab onto the seat. I moved around it and tried to help her up but I only ended looking I was trying to grope at her. She leaned over the controls and gave a deep breath.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just. Just. I think I swallowed some water. I have the key still, she said as she raised her arm.
“Great,” I replied as I pulled myself up onto the side.
Skye sat up and turned to me. “I feel stupid.”
“If it will make you feel better, I’ll roll off the side here.”
“It might make me feel better, maybe.”
“Okay, here goes.”
“No! No, it may be a good idea if we just start paddling I guess. Do you want to look at it?”
I shrugged my shoulders and then we danced around each other to return to our original seating positions. I looked at the console and saw nothing that would be a problem.
Skye handed the key over. I stepped it to my wrist, placed the key back in and tried to start the engine.
It roared to life in one push.
“You got it!”
“Luck?” I asked.
“We must have a few mermaids around us,” Skye replied as she wrapped her around my waist.

VI. Strong Enough

Dad was not exactly happy with having to pay for two lost life-jackets. We didn’t embellish anything when we explained what happened, on how we fell off of the wave runner We did leave out the part that we went into the gulf and that we weren’t moving at that time.
Skye sat quietly next to me in the back of the SUV. I took ahold of her hand and smiled. My vain attempt to relay that everything was okay and that she was welcomed to go anywhere with us, including back to Memphis if she so inclined.
That part of the non-verbal conversion was lost in translation.
We arrived back at the condo to see my sisters standing with Katie.
“Are we going to get the riot act?” I asked.
“Yes, because they’ve all been wondering where you’ve been all this time,” Dad said.
Mom only looked at me in the rearview mirror.
Skye opened the door and quickly got out.
“Hey!”
“Let me talk with Katie, okay? I’ll come to see you later.”
“Alright,” I replied as I watched her cautiously walk up to Katie, who didn’t say a word but her eyes said that she was pissed.
Mom turned back to me. “We need to talk, Spencer Miles Logan.”

The inquisition occurred after we got back to our floor.
I sat down on the couch as my parents stood a few feet to the sides. We were going to have a verbal Mexican stand-off.
“What’s her name?” Mom asked.
“Skye.”
“Last name?” Dad inquired.
“Never asked.”
“Where’s she from?”
“Georgia. Maybe Atlanta. I don’t remember is she said that.”
“And you just met this girl, take her on a jetski onto the ocean. Where you’re not supposed to go.” Dad replied as he pointed out the window.
“We forgot. I’m sure she would have mentioned it if she remembered. Just as I would have turned around and came back into the bay.”
“You couldn’t get it started?” Mom asked.
“No, it just died and we sat there for a bit and talked. I mean, what else were we to do?”
My parents looked back and forth at each other.
“We had a run-in with a Mr. and Mrs. Dorian.”
“Okay.”
“They were looking for their grandson, Stephen.”
“And?”
“His sister’s name is Katie.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “She never mentioned a brother, just an older sister.”
“Katie said he went with you.”
“What?” I asked. “Who is Stephen?”
“The better question,” dad said, “is who is Skye?”
“Someone who doesn’t care if I make me money, she likes my books. I think she likes me.”
“There it is.” Mom said and held her arm to my Dad.
“Hmm-mmm,” he mumbled in reply.
“There what is?”
“You’re dense, boy,” Mom said as she walked into the kitchen. “There is no Skye. He was pretending to be a girl and you fell for it because you’re not thinking with your brain.”
“Okay.”
“What?” Dad asked,
“I mean, I had fun with this person, no matter who they are. For the past year I’ve been living in a dark room with only a monitor looking back at me. I hadn’t see the sun in like three days as I’ve tried to work on this book. I take a break from living in my cave and come down here with everyone.” I stood up and walked past them into the kitchen. Yeah, I thought that maybe a change of scenery would do some good and I found something new in Skye.”
“Spencer,” Mom said as I opened the fridge. There was a bottle of wine on the top shelf. A part of me wanted to take it out and just start drinking it. “There’s just something strange about them.”
The other thought it could be used on some form of date night.
“Look, Katie is a bit manipulative, so maybe her grandparents are too.”
“You’re clueless, son,” Dad said.
“Maybe I am. But I’d rather be happy and clueless than depressed and omnipotent to everything. I will talk with her in the morning and we will get everything straightened out.
My parents looked at me like they were waiting to place a straitjacket on me when the door opened and my sisters and their friends came in.
“Pizza’s here,” Sia yelled.

I didn’t eat any of the pizza but instead stayed in my room and stared at my switched-off laptop.
I had material, I had a story…I’m just didn’t have the drive to write any of it. The events of the day went through my mind and I wanted to know what had happened to me? If what my parents said was true then how was I supposed to deal with it? I never had a girlfriend in my life up to that point. I could never talk to them in school and the ones who did talk to me would make either outright flippant comments or hid it behind intense snark.
To maybe they told the truth but I was so jaded by life that I couldn’t tell.
Maybe there was one out there who wanted to do more than talk with me about things.
“There was one. You met her today,” I whispered to myself as I closed the lid to the computer.
I walked out of my room and down the hall.
“I’m going to the beach.”
“It’s getting dark!”
“I know, Dad. I want to see the sunset.”
“Be back. Quickly.”
“Yes sir,” I replied as I opened the front door.
The elevator ride to the beach level took forever and during that eternity I hoped that maybe she’d be on her way to the beach as well, or at least I could find her at the lazy river or at one of the pools on the way to the beach. But I also hoped I wouldn’t find her as I wouldn’t know what to say or ask.
The elevator opened and I looked into the west to see the sun quickly sinking into the ocean. I ran to the beach, now devoid of umbrellas and the crowds of the day with only a few couples and parents with kids searching for ghost crabs.
I sat down on the beach chair that we had rented for the week. The padding had been removed but it was okay to just sit down and stare into the sun.
“I guess we need to talk,” a voice said behind me.
“I suppose so,” I replied.
“Well, here I am. Fire away.”
I turned around to look at her. Her hair was down and she was wearing the same shirt and shorts from earlier in the day.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Skylar Aylesea Dorian. I was born with the name Stephen. Never liked it. I almost liked Stephanie, but there would always be the memory of Stephen there to haunt me, so.”
“But your grandparents?”
“They don’t understand me. Neither does Katie. She tolerates me at times but on the days she wants to be a bitch, well, I become cannon fodder to her. Everyone wants to tell me it’s a phase. It’s a mental imbalance thing or it’s just creepy. Am I creepy?”
“No.”
“I admit, I’m needy. Maybe a bit weird. I have no idea how to paint my nails or how to make my face look drop-dead gorgeous. But the one thing I am not is some confused little boy who needs to go to therapy. Something Kate says she may have arranged with my parents one day.”
“That’s, that’s pretty bad.”
She walked around the deck chair and stood between me and the sunset.
“The jetski didn’t fail. I pulled the cord. I…I wanted to spend more time with you away from everyone else because I knew as soon as we got back. Even if it was on-time or tomorrow morning. Even if it was after weeks on some zombie-infested island, that this would happen. My family would tell your family with things that, while maybe true in some warped fashion, would just cause everyone some pain. I await your wrath.”
“Skye,”
“Might as well call me by my “true” name.”
“Skye.”
“Spencer! Come on. Don’t say anything that will make me feel better because this is how it’s supposed to end. It’s how it always ends.”
“Sit with me.”
“Sit?”
“Yes,” I said as I knocked my knuckles out the deck chair.
She pulled her hair back and rubbed her left arm on her right shoulder before she walked towards me and sat down.
“It’s a beautiful sunset, isn’t it?” I asked,
“Yeah, spectacular,” she replied,
I reached for her hand and placed mine on it. She recoiled for a moment until she looked at my face.
“You’re not going to yell at me, are you?”
“No.”
“What do you want to do?”
“If I was say what I wanted to, you’d tell me that I was trying to act out a scene from a book.”
“I can think of a lot of scenes.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m not some pretty girl with picture perfect everything.”
“Yes, you are.”

7. If It Makes You Happy

I woke up at 5:00 in the morning and walked to the beach by myself. I didn’t tell my family anything and I admit that at that moment I was running on three-fourths adrenaline and a fourth of infatuation mixed with desperation and a ‘hope springs eternal’ euphoria. Skye was right, this was real life and real life never turns out like one would love to write it all out to be.
There’s death.
Loneliness.
And sea shells that jab into your feet.
I looked to the east, to the rising sun and wondered if she was going to be there so early.
“Spencer!”
I looked to the edge of the water and saw a lone figure waving to me.
“You’re here!”
“Of course,” she replied as I ran to her.
I wondered what I should do at that moment: Just run up and stand next to her or try to reach in, scoop her up and hold her over my head.
Which would probably end up with both of us lying crippled in the sand, so instead I put my hands out and hugged her.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” she whispered.
“I felt the same of you.”
“At least we’re realists about everything,” she replied as we pulled away form each other.
“I’m always a realist. That’s why I write how I do.”
“To escape?”
“Kind of. I live vicariously through my characters.”
“So, is this like a reenactment of the Aimee and Mark story?”
“I hope not. It ends in a drowning,” I replied. “Let’s not get ourselves down. What do you want to do for today?”
“Fly away from everything!” She said as she closed her eyes and raised her hands.
“How about coffee? Down the street? We’ll have to walk.”
“After you,” Skye replied and took my hand.
“I was pretty sure you’d be pissed about the jet ski.”
“Would you believe that I kind of thought about doing that myself but I didn’t think I’d get away with it.”
“You wouldn’t have, but I’d let you think it.”
“Thank you.”
We walked down the road to a small donut shop and sat down. It was a quiet place for being in a vacation spot.
“Did you always want to be a writer? I wanted to ask you the other day, but—”
“Ever since third grade.”
“What happened in third grade?”
“I met this children’s book writer. I loved his work. I had all of his books and if I knew he was going to be there, I would have brought the entire stack, slammed into my book bag—no backpacks for me back then. And he spoke to all of us about keeping on with our dreams and to write everything down, no matter how crazy and way out there it was.”
“You took that advice and ran with it.”
“Thank you again.”
“I wanted to write something. I used to want to draw comic books. Yaoi. I used to draw all of these scenes but I couldn’t show them to my family and if I gave one to my art teacher. Woo, that would be a story in of itself.”
“Yaoi?” I asked. “Some kind of Japanese art?”
“You could say that, yes.”
“I’d like to see one of your drawings.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“I think a lot of people would.”
“Maybe where you live,” she replied.
“Can you show me a picture or two?”
She fidgeted a bit and took a drink of her coffee before closing her eyes and nodding to me.
“I mean, if you want to.”
“Sure, I’ll have to draw a new one. I didn’t bring any of my drawings and they’re not online.”
“Not even on Facebook?”
“I’m not on Facebook anymore. Too many...Too much drama, you know?”
“Yeah,” I replied and nodded in agreement. I didn’t have a Facebook page either—the publishers controlled my page. Sure, I could post a greeting or a ‘Hey! Come see me at such-and-such’ but I didn’t have a personal page.
“It’s a great way to keep track of people and at one time I had a page and all. I would write poems and my views of school but then I grew my hair out and and there a lot of…stuff.”
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, I want to, to you at least. Just, don’t write a story about it.”
“Only if you write it with me.”
“When I thought about who I really felt to be inside I wanted to scream it to the world .I wanted to give a hug and a flower to everyone I met to let them know I was so happy about it. Let me tell you: when you can put a dress on and feel comfortable walking out the front door, you want it to show, right?”
“Right.”
“You wanna sashay down the street and just walk with your head held high.”
“If it makes you happy,” I replied.
“It did, for two hours and then, I was called to the office and told to change into my PE clothes or go home as I was ‘disrupting the minds of the ones who were there to learn’. I refused and after that I had people who didn’t even know I existed until that day come after me like I had killed their dog, grilled it up and served it with fries at lunch.”
“And Katie?”
“That happened when I got home. The story had gotten all the way to her college campus across the state. She verbally assaulted me and screamed to my parents about it. I lost that dress.
“I’m sorry.”
“I had to actually burn it outside. Like a sacrifice.”
“But you have your swimsuit?”
“Only because Katie kind of mellowed on it. There were moments when she said she loved having a sister and we would try a few things with our hair and things. She runs hot and cold.”
“Why don’t we go shopping for a summer dress or something?”
“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“No.”
“Think about it. There are a lot boutiques in Orange Beach. But, if we have to, we’ll go to Pensacola.”
“If I show it to you, will you give me your honest opinion?”
“The only opinion that matters is yours.”

8 My Favorite Mistake

We walked back to the condo and went up to my family’s floor. I held a smile all the way and commented about how my family wasn’t judgmental, stereotypical or prone to gossip but in my head I was screaming that something. Something bad. Something that would involve the cold stares of my parents and the scoffing of my sisters in Skye’s face.
And if not in her face, then in my face, after she had been forced to leave the room in tears.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She asked as I stepped up to unlock the door.
“Not at all.”
“But we’re going to do it anyway, aren’t we?” Skye asked as she brushed her hair from her face.
“Yep,” I replied as I unlocked the door, grabbed the handle and motioned to her for her hand. She took mine with a quick smile and I opened the door.
“Who’s that?” Serena asked as she looked out from the kitchen.
“It’s us,” I replied as we walked inside. I closed the door and looked to the living room. My parents were either still asleep-at seven-thirty in the morning or had gone out.
“Who’s us?” Ally asked—as she appeared behind her Serena.
“This is Skye.”
“From the beach?” Serena asked,
“That’s me,’ Skye replied with a small wave. “Hello.”
“Have you been gone all this time?”
“Where’s Mom and Dad?”
“They took Sia and went to that buffet breakfast up the road. They were going to ask you to go, but, since you’re ‘Mr. doesn’t take his cell phone’, you get to eat cold cereal.”
“Already had breakfast.”
“Everyone else gets something special, except us,” Serena bickered to Ally.
Ally just shrugged.
“Well, we were thinking about going shopping this afternoon. Maybe you two would like to come with us?”
“Where?” Serena asked with some interest. I had said the magic word: shopping.
“Sand Roc Cay.”
“Isn’t that kind of expensive?”
“No idea,” I replied. “You two in?”
“We’ll get ready. Like, five minutes.”
“I’ll believe when I see it,” I called out as Serena and Ally ran down the hall.
Skye walked to the living room area.
“It’s very nice. How much is it a night?”
“Four hundred or so.”
“Ouch,” she replied and then bit her lip. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ have said that.”
“No, no it’s fine. I mean, if we hadn’t rented this then I would have had no reason to go down to the beach and meet you. Right?”
“Trying to put a romantic spin on everything?”
“Is it working?”
“Yes,” she replied as I walked towards her.

There was a lot I wanted to do at that moment—one was to just hug her and the others, well, I tried not to think about things I really knew nothing about.
I only took her right hand and smiled.
“We’re probably going to have to walk.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“We’re walking!” I yelled down the hall.
“What?” Serena yelled.
“It’s less than a mile.”
“You mean I have to wear actual shoes?”
“Looks like it.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s like a mile down the road.You run track.”
“I’m also on vacation!”
“She’s in track?” Skye asked as she stepped closed to me.
“State runner. Ally too. On the relays.”
“So, are we going to run or walk there?”
“I will skip all the way there if you will.”

The walk was longer then a mile and we had to take frequent rests. It wasn’t too hot and a light breeze helped us along the way. We had left a note for my parents and Sia that we had gone walking. I didn’t feel bad about not waiting for Sia, as she would have refused to walk, forcing me to request taking the car and the entire family.

We arrived at the multi-level shopping center and marina. It had the look of Spanish design mixed with an attempt at a “Beverly Hills-ish” accent. A mix of shops stacked in various ways and accessed through varying staircases. The metal fountain of a large swordfish was either an eyesore or a cool-looking piece of art.

We walked past various stores before entering into one because Serena saw something in the window and made a bee-line inside. It was one of those boutiques that had assortments of jewelry and clothes that looked like they may be fifty dollars until one flipped the tags and saw it did say fifty…plus a few more zeroes.
Skye walked with the girls as I looked at the jewelry case. It would be way too early to buy anything like what I wanted to give her. If anything said “run, run away” it would be any form of ring. Earrings may have been okay, and perhaps a bracelet: one made of silver and not encrusted with small jewels that it looked like Monet had painted a barnacle.
I looked back to the girls in the other room as they looked at the dresses and blouses that were in the far corner. I could feel my debit card burning a hole in my pocket along the words of my parents telling me that I had spent too much for the wrong reason. I ran back to the counter, bought the item that piqued my interest and asked the sales clerk to keep the bag behind the counter for me.
I then went back into the other room.
Ally stood next to a rack.
“Where’s Serena?”
“Dressing room.”
“Oh.”
“Her too,” Ally replied with a slight smile.
“Okay. Find anything?”
Ally shook her head. “Not really. It’s all nice. Very nice, but, not me. You know?”
“Souvenir t-shirt?”
“Actually, yeah, I was looking into getting one.”
“We’ll check out the souvenir shops. There’s like thirteen on this road alone.”
Serena stepped out of one of the dressing rooms and lifted the dress she tired on. “Mom and Dad would freak if they saw me in this.”
“Which means you’re going to get it, right?”
“Are you kidding? Dad would rip it to spreads. I mean, it barely covers anything.”
“A bit too much information,” I replied.
“I’ll look for something else. Come on, Ally, you get to be my conscience.”
Serena dragged Ally out of the room.
I walked to the other side of the room and stood in silence.
A few seconds later, the lock on the other door clicked and the door opened. I kept a bit of a distance. I mean, it could have been anyone walking out and I could have been right in front of their face.
I’m sure the police would have understood.
“Spencer?”
I looked to the door to see Skye step out.
She was in a multi-colored sundress, one with a slight fade to the rainbow design. She took a step forward but then back. She had her glasses in her hands.
“How does it look?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Is it?”
“You’re beautiful.
“Stop it,” she replied as she placed her glasses back on.
“I’m serious.”
“You haven’t seen me on my bad days.”
“What’s a bad day for you?” I asked as I looked across the room to see if I could find the clerk who helped me earlier.
“Extensive crying and depression and a broken fake nail or two.”
“And no milk for your cereal?”
“No cereal.”
“I know just the something that will go with this.”

The First Cut is the Deepest

We walked back to the Condo with Ally and Serena walking behind us. Ally found a t-shirt sale and was able to convince the clerk to giver her one at half the half price, or something to that effect. Serena walked out with new sandals for herself and Sia. Skye held onto my hand while wearing the skirt and bracelet. I carried the bag with her other clothes. We talked a bit about how we were going to spend the remainder of the week with me stressing that she could stay with us if she wanted to. I mean, we had an extra room, so I didn’t see the issue.
“I’m pretty sure your parents would see an issue.”
“Then we can reverse the lock on my door, so I can’t get out.”
“What if they don’t trust me? I don’t think I trust me.”
“Then both locks will be turned around.”
“Always thinking ahead, huh?”
“A bit.”
“Don’t you have a book to write?”
“Yep,” I replied as I looked back at Serena and Ally—they were talking about something but I admit I wasn’t listening.
“You should work on it.”
“I will, but only if I know you’ll be okay at your place.”
“I’m fine. I mean, they hate me, but I’m fine. No one’s tried to waterboard me. Yet.”
“Just stay with me, I mean us, the family.”
“I don’t want to cause a problem and I will. I kind of invite it.”
“You don’t.”
“We’ll see,” she replied and bit her lip.
I made my mind up at that point that my family would rescue her from her situation—at least for the week. I would go to her condo and we would talk about the situation with her grandparents. If they refused then I would say that since Skye was over eighteen it wouldn’t really matter what they said if she wanted to leave. I would be there for her.
We walked into the condo and Skye called into the darkness. “Hello?”
“Did they go out somewhere?”
“Probably. They’re following their schedule of seeing everything they can. They may be on a dolphin cruise or went to Pensacola.”
“And Katie?”
Skye walked to the balcony and opened the curtains. The sun lit up the darkened room. “Probably down there. Maybe we should be too.”
“Yeah,” I replied as I took a step back into the kitchen.
“Unless you don’t want to.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m afraid to tell you.”

I wanted to think I knew to do. One would think, by the tone and context of my books that I knew all of the signs and signals. That I could determine what was needed at that moment. I write about characters who just clicked together and everything came together like perfection.
The main character always knew what to say.
The girl understood he was flawed though.
I had no idea what I was doing at that point.
I wasn’t sure if Skye knew either,
I walked a step closer and took her hands into mine.
“If you want, I will be just as happy standing like this in front of you.”
“I want you closer,” she replied.
I froze up as I didn’t really know what that meant.
Skylar leaned in and put her head on my chest.
“Can we stay like this forever?” I asked.
“I’d love that,” she replied.
I let go of her hands and wrapped them around her.
Skylar looked up at my face and I did what I wanted to do the first time I saw her: I kissed her lightly on the lips and she returned the kiss..

She pulled away from me.
“We should stop.”
“Why?”
“Because, I have a feeling that something bad is going to happen,” she replied as she turned the lights on. “Just a feeling that I get at times.”
I nodded as I walked to the other side of the room towards the balcony. A part of me felt hurt, not at her, but more at myself. I had pushed too much and at that moment, I so wanted to open the balcony door and jump from the railings.
I turned back to the main door as the lock clicked and Kate walked in.
“What are you doing here? She asked with a lot of disdain in her voice. Like I had drowned her kitten or something.
“He’s with me, Katie.” Skylar said as she stepped closer to me, but still kept her eyes on her sister.
“I can see that, Stephen.”
Skylar’s eyes narrowed further. I wanted to think that maybe Katie was just like any other sibling would treat their sister. I mean, I would get into arguments with Serena but it never came to complete belittling.
“Where did you get that?” Katie asked as she pointed at her sister.
“I bought it,” I replied.
It was my turn to feel the Katie death stare. “The bracelet too?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I mean that’s just disgusting.” She replied with venom.
“I am right here, Katie.”
“Yes, I know. Grandma and Grandpa will be here in a few minutes. You need to go change. And you,” she said as she pointed a scolding finger my way. “You need to leave.”
“No, he doesn’t. And I’m not changing out of this. For one, I think you’ll take it rip it to spreads or something.”
“Maybe.”
“And two. It’s time I tell them anyway.”
“Fine, let Grandpa have a heart attack and then, as he’s’ dying, grandma will cry her eyes out and look at you, saying that you did it.”
“Grandpa still does CrossFit!” Skylar yelled.
“Maybe not for long.”
Skylar rolled her eyes at Katie and pushed me back a little bit; placing herself between us.
“Anyway, you, writer boy, leave.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Skylar grabbed onto my hand and laid it on her abdomen.
Katie’s expression was a mix of shock, awe, and utter annoyance. Not only had I killed her kitten, but I must have slammed it against the wall, beaten it to a pulp, revived it and then killed it again.
“Your funeral. Both of yours. Maybe your arrest, and your start to a long road of conversion therapy.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?”
“Why are you such a bitch?”

I didn’t mean to really say that but I guess I thought out loud and there it went. As soon as the words escaped my lips I felt that I should have apologized but a second later I had to wonder why I felt bad.
I mean, she was acting like one.
Maybe it wasn’t a very gentleman way to put it.
“He’s right. You are acting like one,” Skylar exclaimed as she pushed herself closer to me.
“Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?”
“He’s just calling it like he sees it.”
“Fine. I will too. Confused gay boy.”
“Take that back,” Skylar yelled.
“I’m calling it as I see it. Grandpa will too.”
I thought about apologizing. I stepped into a family issue that I had no business at the moment getting involved in. However, that day of reckoning would eventually come, so perhaps it was best it was happening at the very beginning. At least I would be ready for future Christmas dinner drama.
Skylar took my hand and dragged me down the hall.
“If you go into that room with him then I will tell them everything: form when you first took my clothes to the reason why your hair is long.”
“Go ahead, make sure you throw a few good lies in there too!”
Skylar shoved me into the room, slammed the door behind her and locked it. However, the door was the type that could be unlocked by simply turning the knob counter-clockwise and then clockwise. She leaned on the door and I expected Katie to try and barge her way in, or at the very least scream a few nonsensical sentences.
There was only silence.
Skylar looked at me, her face red and her expression saddened. I would have been furious and maybe she was, but had a different way of showing it to the world.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“No. She really hurt me with that.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied as I stepped toward her.
“You hear things like that at school and out, out there. Really hurts to hear it from your family.”
“Do your grandparents have any idea at all?”
“A little…I guess. Some of my clothes, hair and the way I talk sometimes, but, I’ve never come out told them.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “Katie’s right. They won’t take it well.”
“You should tell them anyway.”
“I really want to do that. But I can’t. They’ll probably throw me out.”
“Let them. I’ll be there for you.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“You’re not letting me. I’ll do it anyway. And if they raise an eyebrow at you, then you have a foot in the door to talk.”
“Katie’s not going to give me the chance to do that.”
I was going to respond when I heard Katie’s voice yell out: “Grands!”
The color in Skylar’s face drained to white and she sunk to the floor against the floor.
“I can’t do it,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”
I kneeled down in front of her. “I’ll be right here with you.”
“Stephen!” A male voice shouted from down the hall.
Skylar’s face fell further down. “See?”
I reached my hands out and motioned for her to stand up with me. She hesitated for a moment, but rose up anyway.
“I’m ready if you are,” I whispered.
“I’m not.”
“Where’s Stephen, Katie?” The voice asked.
“He’s in the room with a boy.”
“What?”
I opened the door and stepped right up to an older man, maybe in his seventies, who looked surprised to me.
“Hello, sir. I’m Spencer Logan,” I said with a slight Tennessee drawl to my voice as I held my hand out.
“Oh, hello, I—Stephen, what in the world are you wearing, boy?”
“It’s a dress, sir.”
Her grandfather looked past me and to Skylar. He then looked away, past me and down the hall.
“Sheryl!”
“Yes, Paul.”
“Cancel our reservations at the Crab Bar.”

Safe and Sound

The five of us gathered in the living room. The grandparents, Paul and Sheryl, sat on the couch; Skylar sat in the recliner chair and I stood behind her. Katie sat at one of the dining room chairs. She looked like she was ready to watch a movie.
“Now, who are you and what gives you the right to call my grand daughter anything?” Paul asked. He didn’t say it in a threatening manner, more like he knew there was a good reason for what I said.
“I was defending Sky.”
“Sky?”
“Skylar,” I replied as I glanced down. Skylar had her head drooped down. She didn’t want to look at anyone.
“His name is Stephen,” Paul replied as he looked at his wife. “Do you know anything about this?”
“Shelly did say something happened last year with a girl named Skylar.”
“Was this the girl who you talked to us about at your school, Katie?”
“No, I said that Steph wanted to be called Skylar, but we took care of it.”
“Doesn’t look like anyone took care of anything,” her grandfather replied.
“There’s nothing to take care of,” I said as my eyes locked with Katie.
“Who are you again?” Paul asked.
“He thinks he’s some kind of big-shot successful writer.”
“Are you?” Paul asked as he leaned towards me.
“He is,” Skylar replied as she picked up a book from the coffee table and handed it to her grandfather.
He flipped between looking at front and back covers. “Looks like you alright.”
“Thank you.”
“He’s probably a keeper, Stephen, or Skylar, or whatever you want to call yourself.”
“Grandpa, seriously, you can’t just let him do that. Think about what they’ll say back home.”
“We already know what they say, but the good Lord tells me not to care about the opinion of others,” her grandmother replied and nodded at Katie.
“But this is all wrong, I mean, what’s he wearing underneath that dress?”
“I’m going commando myself,” Paul said as he laid back on the couch. “And here I thought you were dealing drugs.”
“No sir,” I replied.
Skylar looked up at me and then to her grandparents. “I wanted to tell you, but, I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Well, mom and dad, they—”
“We’re not your parents. Thank God.” Paul replied with a loud breath.
“Grandpa!”
“Your dad knows how I feel about him, Katie.”’
Katie’s eyes darted back and forth between me and her grandparents. “Whatever! That’s what everything’s going to become. A do whatever you want! You can pretend to a girl and you,” she pointed at me with her middle fingers, “can pretend all you want, but you’re going to have to face the fact you’re gay, man. What would your readers say?”
“Kathleen Isabel Dorian.”
“Yes, Grandma.”
“We do not lower ourselves to that level. It is childish, inconsiderate and flat-out rude.”
“Stephen’s flat out rude to us! He’s an insult to all women!”
Skylar tried to get up but I held onto her shoulders and tried to make her stay. Seeing that wasn’t going to work, I moved around the chair and grabbed her around the waist. “You’re who you want to be, Skylar. That’s all that matters. So, don’t worry about what she says.”
Skye left her head down so I raised her chin up.
“Hey, we’re all here for you.”
“I just don’t know what to think right now.”
“Just know that you look great in that dress and in anything you’d ever want to wear.”
“Thank you.”
I kissed Skyler on the forehead which caused Katie to jump out of her chair. “Holy Sodom and Gomorrah. You see this, right?”
I turned to look at their grandparents.
Paul looked at his wife. “Did you cancel the reservation Cheryl?”
“No, not yet.”
“Good,” he replied with a light slap to her arm. “I think we can still make it. Coming, Mr. Logan?”
“I’d love to, but, I will need to check in with my family.”
“Well, you two go and do that. We have about thirty minutes.”

Anything But Down

We left Skylar’s condo holding each other’s hands, but not saying anything for a long and tense minute and sixteen seconds. I took that time to run through how everything was supposed to have gone according to Katie: the grandparents would have burned us at the stake. They would first gave us a tongue lashing along with a verbal hanging before slamming the door on my face and calling the police. They would then leave in the middle of the night, forcing Skylar to leave her books, the dress, the bracelet and anything that had to with her, with only a shell remaking: Stephen.
“You grandparents are nice.”
“I’m surprised they did that. They’ve always been strict and everything by the book and planned out.” She let go off my hand, stepped a few feet ahead and turned to me. “I am, as you can see, completely unplanned.”
“That’s true,” I replied as I reached out for her.
“So to hear them say that. To actually state that they were against Katie in this. They were too quick to accept it.”
“I don’t know, maybe they’ve always know, but just allowed you to do what you want.”
“That would explain why no one’s commented on my laundry. I really worried about that.”
“Why?”
“They’re pink. Some have a lot of frills…and I know if I say any more then you’ll ask to see them.”
“No I won’t,” I replied.
“Liar.”
I only nodded.

“Do you know what a phone is for?”
We arrived at my family’s condo and I had not even dropped my foot past the threshold when my mom shouted from the living room area.
“Yes,” I replied.
Mom marched into the entry area and stared at the two of us.
“Do you know where yours is?”
“On the dresser in my room; plugged up and probably at full charge.”
“Not what I meant, Spencer. Where have you been?”
“We were with Skylar’s grandparents, talking.”
Mom looked at Skylar bout then turned her attention to me again. “We need to talk. Right now.”
“I’ll wait outside,” Skylar said and without waiting for an answer she stepped out into the hallway and closed the door. I looked back and was about bring Skylar back in when Mom snapped her fingers to get my attention.
“”Come here.”
I followed her down the hall to my room. She fished a piece of paper out of her pocket.
“Serena said you took everyone shopping today.”
“Well, the four of us went down the street.”
“What did you buy for five hundred dollars?”
“A dress and a bracelet.”
“For, her?”
“Yes.”
“Spencer Miles Logan, you’ve just met this person and, isn’t her or his name Stephen?”
I really wanted to raise an eyebrow and simply stare at her for that comment but instead I took a deep breathe.
“And if they were a thousand, I still would have gotten them for her.”
“This is reckless, you know?”
“No. It’s not reckless at all.”
Mom looked at the receipt and then at me.
“This isn’t like a plot for one of your books.”
“Maybe it can be. Mom, come on. When have I eve found anyone who talks to me for me? Sure, she knows the books I wrote, I’ll bet she knows them better than I do, but, she’s not with me for money.”
“Maybe now she is.”
“No and her family wants me to go to dinner tonight with them.”
“You’re not going anywhere else tonight. You need to stay here and chill a bit.”
“Chill?” I asked. “What have I been for most of my life. Mom, nothing has ever happened to me that made me feel like this. I never got a true valentine card. My prom date ditched me five seconds after we arrived in a freaking limo. And, and as much personal tragedy makes for a great plot line for a book, I want to have one time where I am the one who’s happy. Not someone that I’m living vicariously through because I’m either too dense or too introverted to do anything in real life.”
“I just think you’re putting too much into this queer infatuation. Sorry, I mean this summer fling.”
I wasn’t which part of that sentence pissed me off more than the other.
“Just let me figure it out on my own,” I said as I got up and walked out of the room.
“Spencer!”
“I’ll take care of this, mom.”
“You need to stay here.”
“Fine, I will, but I need to do something first.”
The rest of my family, and Serena’s friend, failed to hide the fact they were all paying close attention to my second dramatic performance of the evening.
I walked to the door and placed my hand on the knob.
“Spencer, you’re not going anywhere tonight.”
“I’m aware of that,” I replied as I opened the door.
Skylar stood a few steps away.
“I just need to tell someone I much love them.”

Picture

Skylar agreed it was best for me to stay with my family for the evening and I immediately invited her to come with us to Lamberts, a restaurant known for throwing yeast rolls at customers. She smiled slightly and agreed to come early enough for us to get in line for a table.
I secluded myself in my room and then pushed my chair up against my desk. I took out my notebooks, perused over the notes, and started writing down additional things, like what had happened since the day after we arrived. Lastly, I fired up my laptop.
“Spencer?” My dad said as he opened the door. Our condo was the same as the others: the doors seldom had locks and also my family never knocks on doors.
“Yes?” I asked without looking at him—I was a man on a mission to try to write as much as I could in a few hours or face plant on my keyboard.
“I hear you spent a little bit today.”
“Yes. And I’d do it again.”
“I heard.”
“And you think it was stupid of me, right?”
“No,” he replied as he closed the door. “You could have put a down payment on some exotic car.”
“That’s next month’s frivolous spending spree.”
“Mercedes?”
“I was thinking Lamborghini, but the roads in Memphis would destroy it as soon as I drove it off the lot.” I replied as I pushed my chair away from the desk. “What’s up?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one putting you on the spot?”
“Mom’s already done that.”
“I’m not here to monologue.”
“Okay,” I replied—feeling that the other shoe was going to drop.
“You invited her to come with us tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’ll pay for her.”
“Money’s not the issue here, son.”
“Okay, everyone’s thinking it but no one will say it: you all do not like her.”
“It’s the “her” part, Spencer. She’s not a real girl.”
“What makes her fake?”
Dad looked at the ceiling and then to the floor.
“I’ve haven’t cared about anything like that. We connect on another level. Yeah, I think she looks cute. Yes, she. What if she had some tragic accident or maybe if I had one and had to amputate most of my body? Would I be “real” anymore?”
“Not the same, son.”
“Let me tell you. Her sister did that on purpose. Katie is a real bitch.”
“Language.”
“Oh, I thought of a lot of colorful words I could call her.”
“What happened?”
“She went full inquisition on us this afternoon. We were by ourselves and she barges in.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yeah, when Katie starts going off on her sister. I got tired of it and asked her why she was being a bitch. And the grandparents came home.”
“What were you doing?” He asked with a stern squint in his left eye.
“Standing in the living room, Dad. Seriously. Nothing happened.”
“And what did they say?”
“The grandparents? They were a lot more open to Skylar than mom is.”
“Mom’s just worried about you.”
“I’m fine. We are taking this as slow as possible. I do plan on maybe visiting her in Georgia or maybe have her come to Memphis. We haven’t really talked about any of that yet.”
“There’s always calling on the phone,” he said as he pointed to my cellphone.
“Too nineties.”
“And you told her you love her?”
“I do.”
“Okay.”
“Yes, I am aware of the word’s connotation. I have three books that are all about it. Soon to be four. I have a whole slew of new directions to go. So, if it’s okay, can I get back to my writing?”
“Just let me know if you want to talk about this.”
“Yes, sure. Of course,” I replied as Dad walked out and closed the door.
I pulled my chair back into position and stared at the monitor.
Yes, I could take the final story into new heights by starting it the lows with a lost soul trying to get up from the doldrums and he meets another who is trying to o get away from the heavens. Angels and demons, relationships, zombies, that magical dead necromancer-thing Skylar mentioned.
I would have to ask her more about that.
I also had to wonder if I could give her a side credit. Would my publisher frown on the fact thar I was pushing into something else?
Soldiers and zombie girlfriends? Maybe that would work as a subset of the story? Like the dream of one of the main characters? The storyline that becomes the catalyst of their relationship—as she talks about the story and that’s how they get together, so much that as the story becomes real life around them they have to fight to survive. A love is war kind of thing.
I burned through four hours with very little to show for it as my mind wandered into different types of fiction: like what I was doing to do before the end of the week. I thought of packing up everything, getting my own condo for just the two of us for the last three days.
Three days.
I wanted them to go by slowly.
I wanted us to be together so much in that limited time that we would never need a picture to remind us as the memories would be ingrained into our brains forever. That being said, a picture of us to put on her Facebook would make our relationship “official”in the eyes of the world. Would we just do a simple selfie pose or go all out with matching jeans and shirts?
“We’re going to have go to shopping,” I whispered to no one.
I stretched out a bit, left the room and went out to the balcony. A few days earlier, I wanted to throw myself off of the balcony. The feeling was still kind of there but Sky’s face kept those feelings at bay. I looked at the moon as the clouds enveloped it and hoped that she was up looking at it as well.
“Probably not,” I said as I leaned on the railing. “She’s probably asleep. Dreaming. Hopefully. I hope I will to.”

I woke up to the sound of thunder. It was the coast: sometimes the days were sunny with blue skies and other times it was a low level storm. The light through my window was grey and moody.
Unlike how I felt. I got up from the bed, grabbed my robe and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I would try my best to look as good as I could with the limited summer wardrobe I brought with me. Since it was early, I could get a good shower before all the hot water was taken by my sisters.
The thunder persisted and got progressively louder that I wondered if a tropical storm had just popped-up without warning. I would have to take the SUV to Skylar’s condo or get soaked in the attempt. That had a romance storyline vibe to it but then we would hav to ride on top of the car as the seats were leather.
“Wouldn’t be too bad, the wind in our faces,” I thought aloud. “We’ll have to pick up some bungee cords and gloves to hold on. I’m sure the police wouldn’t mind too much.”
It was just after seven when I stepped out of my room, not looking like the dashing male main character on my own books, but just me, wearing the same thing I had worn two days prior. Casual, but I felt comfortable.
My parents were in the living room reading the paper and watching TV. We drove 445 miles from home and it looked like were still at home as they took the same positions as they did there: Mom on the right side of the couch, Dad on the left.
“Can I take the car down the road to pick up Skylar?”
“This early?” Dad asked as Mom closed her newspaper.
“Yeah, I’m assuming she’s not up yet and may take some time to get ready I know you want to leave early enough to there so we’re not waiting in a long line.”
Mom gave me a blank look and then flipped the paper back up. I didn’t respond.
“The keys are on the nightstand,” Dad replied as he picked up a section of the paper.
“Thank you.”
I left the room and heard mom say something, but I couldn’t make it out.
If I really wanted everyone to have a bad day then I could have stopped in my tracks, turned back, and asked what the problem was. Mom would look at me with an angry, yet calm, glare and say the words that no man or boy wants to ever hear: “nothing”.
And it would nothing for the rest of the day.
Nothing but tension.
Nothing but disdain.
Nothing but almost-silent scoffing.
It wasn’t worth it.
I grabbed the keys and left the condo.
The rain came down in torrents onto the windshield as soon as I left the parking garage and drove the very short distance to the Palms condo but at the last second I drove past the entrance and down the road to the store. I would arrive with a large bouquet of coastal flowers, or maybe a small one, with a vase, to place on the table.
Fifteen minutes later, with the multi-color, Jimmy-Buffet-would-approve, display of flowers in a bowl-like vase, I drove back in the direction of the palms. The rain had slowed by then but the clouds were still low, fog-like, so it would probably stay that way until some time past ten o’clock.
I turned the SUV into the parking lot of the twin tower condominium and saw there were several Orange Beach Police cars parked in front of the first tower.
“So much for the bungee cord idea.”
I parked on the other side and walked through the drizzle carrying the vase as carefully as I could. Once inside the lobby, I walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the ninth floor.
“What if I’d this way overkill?” I thought aloud. “No, and if it is, then the whole family, except Katie, can enjoy it. Yeah, I’ll just say that it’s present for everyone: a plethora of color for what the Alabama coastline is usually like except for today.”
The elevator ‘dinged’, the doors opened and I my eyes immediately latched onto the presence of three police officers standing in the area in front of the elevators.
I must have looked guilty as one of them approached me. “Are you an owner or a guest here?”
“No, my, my girlfriend is.”
“What room?”
“Nine, nine-thirteen.”
I looked down the the way and saw the door to the room was wide open and a siren wailed in the distance.
“What happened?” I thought maybe her grandfather or grandmother had an accident or something. “Can you tell me?”
The officer didn’t respond.
I slowly shifted a few feet away and shouted out: “Skylar!”
I placed the flowers down and then went into a quasi panic mode when I saw her grandfather appear in the doorway.
“Spencer?”
The officer looked at them and then at me. “Is he with you?”
“Yes, yes he is.”
I walked past the officer and over to the door. I feared for his wife as the siren grew louder. It was obvious it was coming to our location.
“What happened, Paul?”
“We don’t really know.”
We walked into the condo to see two other police officers talking to Sheryl. Sheryl’s face was red and crest-fallen. I looked at the living room and wanted to look down the hall at the other rooms but the presence of the police on the balcony caught my attention even more.
Where were Skylar and Katie?
Paul put his hands on my shoulders as Sheryl’s laid her head down on the table.
We then saw Katie walk in from the hallway, her hands behind her back, accompanied by a police officer.

Beware of Darkness

Seeing Katie being escorted form the hallway.
The balcony door wide open.
Her grandmother with her head on the table with a police officer, her husband, and then a slew of EMT’s coming in through the door
And Skylar nowhere to be be found made me feel that either she had ran away—which if it was the case, I would have searched all over Baldwin county to find her. The other thought that she was hiding form Katie in one of the rooms and everything just got out of hand and the neighbors called the police because of the disturbance.
Maybe Skylar had seriously bruised brushed her sister, but in locations that were not visible with Katie wearing clothes at the time. She had on jeans, a t-shirt and a loose blouse. She also had a silver bracelet on her right arm that clacked against the handcuff,
“Why do you have that?” I asked her.
Katie didn’t reply so I got up in her face—I maybe had a second before an officer could bum rush me to the floor,
“Where. Did . You. Get This!” I screamed as I grabbed arm. “Take it off!”
“I can’t,” Katie replied,
“Where is she?”
Katie nodded her head to the balcony door and I ran out the front door, to the stairwell, and ran down the stairs so fast that I should have been dizzy upon exiting the door on the ground floor. I wasn’t dizzy, but everything had a tunnel vision look to me as I ran down the hallway leading to the outdoor pool and the beach. There was a crowd of people held back by tape and police. I bolted by them and jumped down the stairs past the police to look at the pool area.
The concrete near the shallow end of the pool was blood-stained. I ran down the other side of the pool—with the police right behind me—to see something surrounded by officials and covered in a shroud. I looked up to the ninth floor—the sun now shining in my eyes, I winced to try and get a clear view.
I felt a hand grabbed my shoulder and I turned to see the officer screaming at me but I couldn’t hear a word he said as I could only hear my heartbeat. Was it form running down the stairs or was I finally admitting to what I didn’t want to know: that Skylar was under that plastic shroud and that her sister had killed her.
“Why?” I whispered as the officer continued to scream and forced me to my knees.
I wanted to get up and go to her. Maybe she was alive. Perhaps, they were simply keeping her out fo the rain, but were waiting to stabilize her before doing anything.
The most unnerving moment in my life occurred right there.
While the sun shined and soon everyone would come out to enjoy the beach, I felt like dying too. Yes, I had thought about it earlier in the week and maybe if I had gotten up earlier or if I had walked over and just stayed the night then things would have been different.
The officer had walked away from me and I never noticed until he lifted me back up and asked if I was alright. I guess someone had radioed him from the condo.
I only shook my head and walked away from the pool and to the elevators.
Her grandfather stood in the front of the hallway and motioned for me to come over him.
He held his hand out to reveal the silver bracelet. It was slightly bent.
I took it without a word and we walked into the elevator.

My family arrived after I never answered my phone. They sat on the couch and chairs in the living room as I sat next to the grandparents. No one said anything for an eternity.
“I’ve called my daughter and son-in-law.” He spoke very quietly as he hugged his wife. “They’re coming down. Katie’s been, been taking to the station and…and Skylar is in Gulf Shores.”
My parents looked a bit uncomfortable as they were unsure about what to do. I didn’t blame them as I didn’t know what to do either. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry, grieve, cower and maybe laugh. Laugh from sorrow but also from how happy I had felt the past few days, from the happiness of the things I wanted to have happen, one day, perhaps.
To drive down an open road with just the two of us.
To allow her to be whoever she wanted to be—It wouldn’t have bothered me at all.
But I also felt rage: the black darkness of how if I ever saw Katie again I would have thrown her off an even taller building. They would have to build something taller than the Burj Khalifa in order for my bloodlust to be satisfied. I had pocketed the bracelet but then placed it on the table.
“Can she wear it for forever?” I asked her grandmother.
“We couldn’t have it any other way, Spencer”

I Shall Believe

It’s been two years since the day Skylar died.
Her town’s local newspaper called it an accident tragedy—based on the account of her parents, who demanded that she should be buried in a suit with the name Stephen on her marker. Her grandparents almost gave in but I was staying with them during that time and, tragically, I had to buy them off. I would have paid for everything anyway but it hurt the three of us that they only wanted to keep up the appearance of a “nice Southern family”-with the obituary notice reading her former name.
The funeral home adjusted everything else before the services and she was buried in a variation of the same summer dress and the bracelet her sister damaged. The service had minimal attendance. The small town they lived in didn’t understand nor wanted to accept her in death—at a time where she couldn’t fight back. I fought back and I stood next to the casket for as long as I could. Some people, would ask who I was and Paul and Sheryl would explain that I was a member of the family. That was enough for most of them.
I wanted to throw myself into concrete vault at the memorial park—in much the same way where I had wished I was the one who had fallen from that deathly height. Maybe I could be like that necromancer story she talked about and she would stand up and state she had a nightmare about flying.
I stayed in town for awhile before heading back to Memphis but I felt alone, even with my family, some acquaintances and my editor all reaching out with their condolences.
“I’m sorry to hear what happened,” Mr. Reed said as I sat across from his desk. I needed to talk to someone and perhaps luckily, he had just completed a Drama Society workshop.
“I feel empty.”
“Crisis does that.”
“A crisis is supposed to be good for an author.”
“I heard the same goes for a politician: never let a good crisis go to waste. Alas, this is not a good one.”
“Yeah, my editor said that too and I thought, yeah, having my life suck was a driving force for my other books. To play into the things that never happened to me and having people assume that I had this great life because my characters did. I had the life and it was taken away from me.”
“Did they ever say why her sister—”
“Katie.”
“Yes, Kate. Did she ever say why she did it?”
“No. No confession, no remorse. She was sent to to a mental hospital instead of prison due to being depressed. I’m still hate her.”
“For what she did?”
“For what she did and why she did it. I know why she did it, but they didn’t want to hear it, Mr. Reed. Everyone knew why she did it but no one cared to put it all together.”
Mr. Reed looked at me and closed his eyes. “The evil that men do for they do not understand strands as an imposing monolith. One had two choices.”
“Which are?”
“To walk away in defeat or to climb over it.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me,” I replied as I laid my hands on the desk.
“Spencer, you’re a writer. You have the ability to tell a story. You need to tell this one, as painful as the truth is to tell.”
“Skylar liked my zombie attackers concept.”
“Sounds like she’s still with you.”
“She’ll always be with me, Mr. Reed.”
“Of course, Spencer, but you need to let everyone else meet her. What was your title again?”
“A Sweet Summer Song.”
Mr. Reed sat back on his desk. “One would think. That the Memphis air doesn’t go with that title. It’s not the right atmosphere for a tome like what you’re trying to write out.”
“What do you mean?”
“You, Mr. Spencer Logan, need a permanent change of scenery. In Georgia, perhaps?”
“And my story?”
“I hear that superhero soldiers with zombie girlfriends will be a popular genre.”
“Who did you hear that from?” I asked with a slight smile. Mr. reed ignored my question.
“So tell your editor that love works in mysterious ways and you write what we know is on your heart.”
“Heart, soul, and mind, sir,” I replied a I stood up.
“She’ll help you along, just keep listening.”
“I will.”
I moved from Memphis to the outskirts of Atlanta a few weeks later and once agains stayed with Paul and Sheryl. My editor was a bit perplexed with the manuscript I submitted, wanting to know where I got all of these science fictions ideas and if it was a great idea to give credit for the story to Skylar. My reply to my editor’s question became the words on the first page of the new book and the words that were inscribed on her marker:

“Because it was about her. It was always about her.”