Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
He chuckles. “Maybe so. But I have a feeling if it wasn’t us, it would’ve been someone else. Anyone who would help him get out there.”
“True. Guess some people really do have a calling.”
He’s quiet a moment before he asks, “Do you think you do?”
“I don’t know. Being back on the pier the last couple of weeks makes me wonder what would’ve happened had I not cheated in the competition and been thrown out.”
He stifles a gasp. “Do you think you would’ve followed in Grandpa Malone’s footsteps?”
I hitch a shoulder. “I really can’t see it, but maybe?”
“Being a fisher is a hard life,” John points out, and I nod. “Is that why you did it? You thought it would help your grandfather somehow?”
I rub the ache above my breastbone. I haven’t thought about my motivation in a long time. “Something like that. His boat needed repairs, and he’d had a rough year on Calamity Jane due to the long drought. But mainly, it was impulsive. I was mad at the world and didn’t consider the consequences.”
One of the worst mistakes in my life. Leaving John was one too, but I didn’t see any alternatives other than being miserable. And like it or not, that would’ve affected him too. Maybe even more than my actual leaving.
The hours tick by as we reminisce and debate random topics. He tells me how he’s included not only an annual fish fry but also a summer rib fest on the back patio of his bar. He sounds happy, his business is thriving, and it makes me realize he’s right where he’s always belonged. In Aqua Vista with his family and their roots. I have roots there too, but they certainly don’t run as deep, not with my upbringing.
About four hours into the trip, I notice an exit sign with different amenities. “Want to stop for a restroom break?”
“Sounds good. Would be nice to stretch my legs.”
We pull into a fast-food restaurant and park near the door. “Nothing like junk food on a road trip.”
“The calories don’t count.”
We devour burgers, fries, and sodas before getting back on the road.
By the time we pull into Los Angeles County limits, it’s nearing dinnertime and congested. It takes forever to find an empty spot on the street near my apartment building, and it’s obvious we’ve both had enough of being stuck in a car. I see the stress lines on his forehead relax when I finally cut the engine.
“Well, at least you have more options around here than at your last place,” he says as he checks out the stores and restaurants within walking distance. I relocated to a much less sketchy place a few years ago, on La Brea, on the outskirts of West Hollywood. “Looks like you’re moving up in the world.”
I can only afford to rent a room, and I don’t have my own garage space, so I know he’s only being generous. “Don’t do that.”
John releases the grip on his bag. “What?”
“Make excuses for me. I know I abandoned our marriage.”
“Where the hell did that come from? I wasn’t even referring—” Pushing open the passenger-side door, he sighs. “You know that’s not how I see it.”
“Maybe you should,” I say over the roof of the car. “It’ll make it easier.”
“What? Our divorce?”
“Shit, we forgot to discuss it on the way up.”
He smirks, breaking the tension. “We were too busy goofing off and reminiscing.”
“True.” I smile. “Maybe we can hash out the details during dinner.”
“Not sure a no-fault divorce has many details to hammer out, but sure,” he mutters. “Unless something has changed?”
I shake my head. We’d agreed we would take the most collaborative divorce path since we weren’t adversaries, and we’d already divvied up possessions after the separation.
I text my roommate to let him know I’m here as we walk up to the front entrance. I key into the door and quickly check my mailbox in the hall before heading up the stairs to the second floor. John is quiet, scrutinizing the building, which is dated but clean, unlike my old place.
“Hey, Dennis. How’s it going?” I greet him as I step inside my apartment. I motion to John. “This is my—”
“Husband, John, soon-to-be ex.” He holds out his hand while I stifle a gasp at the flippant comment. “Nice to meet you.”
Dennis smiles as their palms connect. “Welcome. I’ve heard all about you.”
John’s widened gaze swings to me, then back to Dennis. “Have you?”
Had John really thought otherwise?
Now Dennis is making eyes at me. “Hope that was cool to mention?”
I thump him on the shoulder. “Of course, all good.”
After small talk about our drive down, we head to my room. It’s small and cramped, but he doesn’t point it out. I feel silly, like a college kid who can’t afford the rent, and the truth is, most days, I can’t, subsisting on meals from the restaurant where I work and microwaveable food. And sometimes I ask myself how I got here. Not only because it’s expensive living in this town, but I’m hard-pressed to admit that I’ve never felt completely settled in LA. The lie I tell myself is that I will as soon as I get my big break.