Читать книгу Eastbound Sailing - Todd Foley - Страница 10

4. A GRACEFUL INTERUPTION

Aiden fired up the gas stove as soon as he got back to cabin. Sliced the sirloin into strips, diced the vegetables and threw them into a skillet simmering with butter. The ingredients hit with a sizzle, and when the meat was seared on the outside, he poured in a generous amount of the merlot, heating it on medium for about 15 minutes until it was a dense reduction.

Normally he would spend more time intentionally mixing up the way he cooked this dish, but being as hungry as he was, he stuck to the tried-and-true recipe he made once a week.

He opened up a few cabinet doors looking for plates and found a stack of aluminum dishes. Very fitting for log cabins; not suitable for Aiden’s hipster taste. But he could care less at this point.

Aiden tried to occupy his thoughts with something productive as he ate, such as an itinerary for the next few days. But with each bite, he found himself feeling increasingly discontent, and the cabin grew smaller and smaller. Whispers of inadequacy kept creeping out of his subconscious.

“What am I doing here?” he thought.

He needed to get out.

He looked at his watch. 5:15. Still enough daylight for some escapism.

Aiden grabbed his brown hoodie, started up the car and drove south. He remembered Dad telling him that the further south, the more serene the imagery.

Not that he really cared about serenity right now. He just needed some air.

Although he hated the stereotype, Aiden did have a mental “nothing box” which let him drown out all his thoughts and focus on a sole action. In this case, that action was driving.

He continued along the main roads, using the sun as his compass. About 20 minutes later, the main county road came to a dead end. He spotted a small dirt road behind him through his side mirror. Feeling frustrated but not enough to be defeated, Aiden backed up, turned down the dirt road and pressed on.

The road was quite scenic and surrounded with dense trees. He drove up a small but steady incline, which then crested the top of the slope and came to an opening.

“Wow,” he said out loud.

The southern-most tip of the island stretched out over steep cliffs with rich green grass growing along the field in front of the cliff. To Aiden, it felt much more like Ireland than the Pacific Northwest.

He stopped his car in a small turn-off lot. Thought twice, then locked his door anyway.

Aiden walked toward the cliff. A wide landscape of grass preceded a steep drop down to the ocean. The waves were crashing up against the rocky cliffs, and the sun was beginning to set off in the distance. Arbutis leaves were scattered along the edge, crunching with each step he took.

He sat down on the rocky edge, closed his eyes and soaked it in. Suddenly, his worries and anxieties felt a little more distant.

He heard a different set of footsteps crunching in the background. He turned around and saw a woman approaching.

The grocery store cashier.

“Could this island be any smaller?” he grumbled to himself.

She was wearing baggy jeans, moccasins and a faded orange cardigan.

Mismatched.

Then again, this was Cielo.

Aiden was too far out in the open to sneak away unseen. He gave her a small nod of acknowledgement, hoping that she’d sense that he was occupied.

She didn’t pick up on that. If she did, she clearly didn’t care.

“First day here and you’ve already discovered a local secret,” she said.

Locals seemed to know how to declare one’s newness to the island with subtle yet blatant accusations of intrusion and ignorance. Aiden didn’t know whether to smile at the notion or give her the finger.

“Sorry for tainting it with my presence,” he responded. Even with his back to her, Aiden could tell she was looking at him with that soft gaze she held earlier at the store.

“Well that’s the beauty of a rocky shoreline like Sunset Strip. The waves give it a proper cleanse every day from anything too foreign.”

While it was an insult, Aiden picked up on the humor behind it. She may be overly vocal, but he couldn’t deny that she had a decent sense of dry wit.

“You come here often?” he asked, still facing the setting sun.

“Try to; it’s sort of a daily ritual of mine. Cashiers see a lot of people each day – even in a place as small as Cielo. Solitude does wonders for the soul, especially when the socializing wears one thin.”

“I can understand that,” Aiden said, his voice offering a slight jab at their interaction earlier.

“Sorry if I was a bit harsh today at the store,” she said. “Cielo’s known to be a friendly place; hope I didn’t ruin that expectation for you.”

“Well, you know what they say: every rose has its thorn,” he said, followed by a subtle exhale through his nose. Sarcasm is great compensation for lacking confidence.

“Well played, sir,” she said.

Aiden was still sitting facing the shore and she was still standing off to his right. It was time to surrender to courtesy.

“Aiden,” he said, turning toward her and extending his hand. “Aiden Lawrence.”

She met his gaze and slowly reached for his hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Aiden. Name’s Rosemary. Rosemary Friesen.”

“Nice to meet you as well, Rosemary.”

Rosemary took a seat next to Aiden on the rocky shoreline.

“So tell me about yourself, Mr. Lawrence. You a city boy?”

City boy.

Aiden always had a problem with that label. There was a fine line between residing somewhere and claiming its culture as your own. And the hustle-and-bustle pace of city life lost its appeal in the last year or so. Especially when it came to crowded, claustrophobic public transit.

“Sure,” he responded. “Live in the U-District of Seattle.”

“You look a little old to be a student. How old are you? What are you studying?”

Prying already? Aiden knew he shouldn’t be that surprised.

“Turning 30 this year,” he said calmly. “Studying business, but taking some time off.”

“Ah, ‘reflecting,’ right?” Rosemary said, surprisingly free of sarcasm.

“More or less. Just wasn’t feeling it anymore. Working as a server at a downtown restaurant for the meantime.”

“Interesting.”

Aiden was confused by that comment, wondering whether to be flattered or uncomfortable.

“What makes you say that?”

As before, she held her gaze and almost seemed to take inventory with her eyes.

Strange enough, it didn’t feel threatening.

“Life has a way of teaching you how to read people,” she said. “Just at the surface initially.”

They sat in silence for a minute, watching the sun approach the horizon.

“And what brings you here?” Rosemary asked.

“Just took an evening drive,” Aiden said.

“I mean here,” Rosemary said, her tone a bit heavier. “What brings an intelligent, big-city guy like you to Cielo Island of all places?”

Good question, Aiden thought. Throughout the process of making the necessary arrangements to get to the island, he didn’t really get down to the “why” factor.

“Call it a transition period,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Rosemary agreed.

Aiden picked up the slightest hint of suspicion in her tone. Maybe not suspicion, but doubt nonetheless.

“Looking for a different answer?” he pressed.

“Look, Mr. Lawrence. I don’t know you from Adam, and I’m not about to prod into your personal life the second you step foot on this rock. Maybe I don’t even want to know,” she said, after which she looked off to the setting sun. She held her silence, clearly planning how to articulate her thoughts as the waves continued to crash against the rocks below.

“People don’t just stumble across this place. It isn’t exactly the hottest tourist spot in the region, and yuppies don’t come here to start their careers. People either grow up here, or they run here to escape from somewhere else.”

Aiden didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t know if he should. Was Rosemary baiting him? Trying to lead him down a path to reach a conclusion?

He stood up, still facing southwest. He slowly stepped toward the edge to look down.

Big leap, he thought.

Big leaps require a significant amount of trust, and even more faith – neither of these things came easily to Aiden, especially when it came to people. Soured relationships didn’t help, and he wasn’t about to start spilling his guts to a complete stranger the first night on some remote island.

There was something about Rosemary, though. Like she cared about him. Almost a maternal aura.

“Things change,” he finally said, not dropping his guard. “Life changes, people change. Yeah, I know there’s always the next step, whatever. Sometimes I don’t care about that next step. You just go with the flow.”

“And this is where ‘the flow’ took you?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. I’m here now. What’s next doesn’t matter.”

“Sounds like more of a cross road than a transition,” she said.

“What’s the difference?”

“Transitions have a clear ‘next step.’ You know where you’re heading. There’s fear, but there’s certainty.”

She turned to the right and pointed to the ground, using her finger to mark two spots in the dirt.

“Point A, Point B,” she said, pointing to the two respective dots. “You have your time at Point A, and sooner or later you need to move to Point B. They’re entirely different and a lot of change will be involved. But you at least have an idea of what’s coming next.”

Aiden nodded and bit the side of his lip. Rosemary clearly liked her own analogies, but she seemed to be going somewhere with this one, and she had his attention.

Philosophical discussions were fine by him because you can explore the abstract without bringing yourself into the picture. That’s how he saw it, at least.

He preferred it that way.

As Aiden turned to face her, Rosemary dusted away the two dots and drew a cross in the dirt.

“A cross road is the end of something, at which point you’re staring into the unknown. There are a lot of unmarked roads ahead of you, and you have no assurance as to what’s down each road.”

She let it hang in the silence for a bit. So did he. The sun was now touching the horizon, but neither of them seemed to notice.

“Maybe ‘crossfire’ is a better word,” Aiden said. “More variables, more players, less safety.”

As he spoke, Rosemary squinted her eyes and brought her brows closer together, as if to say “Ah ha!” in response to Aiden’s words. As if he had somehow disclosed too much and let her in.

“So how do you move forward?” she asked.

Aiden’s defenses were alerted, and he swiftly segued back to the philosophical argument. Rosemary was no shrink, and this look-out point was no therapist couch.

“Why should you?” Aiden asked. “Why does it always have to be about moving forward? What’s so wrong with the present?”

“The present isn’t a bad place, Aiden. And moving forward doesn’t always mean a change of scenery.”

“Is standing still really so bad?” he asked.

Rosemary nodded, her eyes open and engaged. Not defensive, but caring. She really did seem to care. That maternal vibe again.

“The way I see it,” she said, “when you come to a cross road – or crossfire, whatever you want to call it – you’ve got two options. You can stay put; don’t proceed any further. You’re in the safe zone. But you’re not safe. You’re held captive by fear. And this fear is, in all irony, far more dangerous than the crossfire itself. Yes, you’re exposed to external dangers if you move forward – but fear paralyzes you.”

Aiden wasn’t expecting that strong of a response.

She paused, stood up and looked out as the sun was mostly set.

“In a sense, fear is pride inside out. ‘What will happen to me?’ ‘What will they think of me?’ ‘Why should I be the one to make the first move?’ You make yourself the victimized star of your own universe. And of course, your problems and anxieties are far more interesting than anyone else’s.”

Aiden stood there, looking at her. Dumbstruck. Never thought he’d hear such revelations from a cashier.

“By the way,” Rosemary said, “when I say ‘you,’ it’s entirely figurative. I know nothing about you other than your sense of style, and this is no attempt at trying to figure you out. I’m just an old lady who likes to ramble.”

Aiden nodded in acknowledgement and approval.

Silence seemed golden.

“There’s a second option,” Rosemary continued. “Take that next step. Walk into the crossfire. Yes, you’ll feel terrified and you’re positive that you’re paralyzed by inadequacy. You’re not. You’ll take some hits, but you’ll live. And when you take those first few steps and glance back at your foot prints, you’ll see that you survived. You made progress. You’re carving out a destiny for yourself. Fear will be replaced by astonishment.”

Rosemary broke her gaze, looked at the darkening horizon and turned her head back toward Aiden. “You should head back,” she said. “Gets dark quick here.”

She stood up and started to walk back toward the gravel lot. Aiden was still trying to connect all the dots of her theory as he followed her to the cars.

“Wow,” he finally said out loud. “When do you think these things up?”

Rosemary smiled a small smile.

“When you spend most of your time working behind a cash register, your mind tends to wander,” she said. “You learn to read people. Most everyone walks around as an advertisement of themselves, in everything from their demeanor to their grocery lists.”

They walked side by side toward the parked cars.Aiden had to chuckle out loud. “Not gonna lie, for all your talk about the beauty of life and such, that sounds like you’re putting a blanket treatment on everyone when you don’t know the first thing about them.”

Rosemary opened her car door and paused before moving to the driver seat. “You’re a lot more similar to the rest of us than you’d like to think.”