Chapter 37-1

IT HAD BEEN weeks since I last painted. I knew this because I got the worst fucking cramp of my life in my wrist when I held the paintbrush for only five seconds. But after a few stretches and half of a mental breakdown, I was ready. I had woken up early, dragged my sorry ass out of bed and set myself up on the back porch of the house. I had my easel, my paints and brushes and a warm cup of coffee by my side as I settled myself into the outdoor wicker arm chair with a knitted quilt strewn across my folded legs. There was no sun to capture on the canvas, but there was an abundance of light and color that made up for it. The teal blues and the dusty pinks and soft whites mended so beautifully in the sky and on the canvas as well. I have no clue how I manage to, but paint always seems to find it's way onto my legs. After a huge painting, usually on a canvas the size of a fucking whale, I'm covered head-to-toe in paint. My hair, nose, eyebrows—now that's a fucking bitch to wash paint off. I'm honestly surprised I still have eyebrows. Painting had always been my escape—or even just drawing. Anything to distract me from this shithole of a world and make it slightly less of a shithole I guess. But I've noticed I tend to paint less and less when I'm with Chase. He's become my new escape. He's rearranged my headspace without me even noticing—the absolute asshole. I liked my old headspace, thank you very much. However, if I'm being honest, I love this one. He's become a habit of mine. I always search for his face in a crowd, he's the first person I send a meme to that I had found and he is always my next thought. Fuck, if that doesn't boost he's already bursting ego then I don't know what will. I miss him. I miss him so damn much. But that doesn't mean I'm going to act like some damsel in distress, waiting for her husband to come back from the war. I have my own shit to deal with and if I have to deal with it on my own, then so be it. It's different from when we broke up six months ago. I feel different with out him. My mind is clearer and I can focus on myself more. Last time, I was constantly thinking about him, wondering what he was doing, wondering if he was happier without me. This time, I don't want to know. Because whatever he's doing, he's doing it because he wants to. And I'm the same. If it's meant to be, he'll come back to me. And if not....then okay. Fuck, am I stupid? I mean, probably. Why do I have to love him so damn much? When—no if—he comes back, I'm definetly going to punch the shit out of him. When my painting was officially finished, I put down my paints and sit back in my chair. The sunlight had changed but I had managed to capture it on the canvas. I sigh heavily and glance out towards the ocean. The ocean was so calm and the only movement was the way it was ebbing from the shore. Glancing back through the open french doors, I notice the silence of the house and stand from my chair. I had a bikini under Chase's shirt, so I pull it over my head and place it down on the table. I pull my hair from the messy bun on top of my head and jog down the sandy steps of the porch. I walk out towards the ocean, the cool sand slipping between my toes with every step. The water was cold but not enough to send me running back to the house in search of warmth. It was a crisp, refreshing chill and it washed up against my legs, crawling higher up as I trudged in further. When I was deep enough, I lie down on my back and spread my legs and arms out wide. I float in the water, a tiny island in a huge fucking ocean. The clouds had dissipated by now, leaving a beautiful clear sky up a head. And before I knew it, I was smiling. I had never felt so calm, so at peace with myself before. Just the sight of the sky made me happy. I didn't know it, but I had been searching for this feeling for a long time. I'm not even sure if I've ever felt this before; raw, true, pure tranquility. My mind wasn't wandering, I wasn't dwelling on things or wondering what comes next. I was here. I was now. But apparently, so was something else. I could hear the faint sounds of sirens coming from the shore as the water lapped against the side of my head. I ignore it for a bit, assuming it was just part of my fucked-up imagination. Then, they kept going. Confused, I pull myself up right in the water and glance towards the shore to see two ambulances, a police car and a red lifeguard jeep all crowding the sand of the beach. I then see my mother running towards the edge of the water. I start to swim towards the shore. I'm sure my confusion was clear on my face as I reached the shallows and started to trudge through the water. "Mom?" I ask as she nears me. She then proceeds to dramatically through herself into my wet arms and hugs me tightly, "What's going on?" "I thought you had drowned, Hayden." Mom explains as she pulls back and grabs my face, "You looked like one of those fishes that bob at the surface when they've passed on. I was so scared that you were one of those fishes." "Mom....Please tell me you did not call all of these emergency services for me." I say through my squished cheeks as I glance at the abundance of vehicles on the beach. People had migrated to their back porches just to see what was going on. "Whaaaaaaaaat!?" She questions and gazes around as if she had no idea, "Me? No, of course not. There...there must be another emergency on the beach." There was a pause of silence. Then I give her a dead look, "We're the only ones on the sand." "Well would you look at that." Mom says bashfully as she pulls her warm hands from my cold cheeks and dries them on her silk floral robe. I sighed and put my hands on my hips. Damn. Do they give out loyalty card for emergency services? I think I should own several hundreds of those. Suddenly there was an ear-piercing screech. "WE GET IT, SHE'S ALIVE!" Noah screams through the megaphone he had some acquired. I didn't even know we had one. Everyone in the house had come out to see what was going on—my mom had no doubt woke them up with her dramatics. Even Spencer's boyfriend was there. He had obviously  chose the worst night to spend over at our house. Noah was in one of Penn's robe and had Vera's large trendy glass that took up three quarters of his face. One hand was on his hip and the other was carrying the megaphone. He was definetly a fucking Karen in his past life. "NOW CAN YOU PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR FUCKING SIRENS?" Noah continues to shout at the emergency services, "LET ME GET BACK TO MY DREAM ABOUT TINY HANDBAGS!" Mom and I can only laugh at him as the sirens are quickly turned off at Noah's request. I shake my head at my mother her gives me a sheepish look before I lock my arm with hers and we make our way up to the crowd of responders who had come to my rescue. For once in my life, I won't be the one explaining anything to the officials. I feel like I deserve a gold star for this. ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ The sun was setting over the near empty parking lot of the Holden Bay grocery store, Greg's. It wasn't a big store but it definetly kept the small beach town well fed. I remember a girl in my sophomore biology class was the sole heir to the supermarket. I only remember that because she wouldn't stop bragging about it. It's all she would talk about regardless of the context of the conversation. It was 'supermarket this' or 'great-great-grandaddy greg this'. I wanted to punch her and her great-great-grandaddy greg in the fucking throat. Sophomore me was not having anyone's shit. And I highly doubt anything has changed since then. There was a crisp chill across the parking lot but it mixed perfectly with the lingering heat of the day. My black flip-flops smacked against the smooth concrete as I stepped out of the sliding doors. "I call shotgun!" Noah screams from behind me, scaring the living shit out of me, and he runs straight pass. "You sat in the front of the way here!" Michael shrieks as he also races pass me to the car while I was left all alone to carry the three paper bags in my toddler-like arms. I could barely see over the top of them let alone manage to keep a hold on them. As a result, two cans and a tomato fall out of the top of the bags and hit the ground, slowly rolling away. "Ah shit." I say as I quickly put down the bags and try to race after the runaway cans. Luckily, someone who was about to enter the supermarket had caught them. I smile as I glance up at them, "Thank y—oh, hi."