Dillon stared out the window from his hotel suite, unreasonably angry at the grey sky outside. It was raining again. It seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Every time he saw the tiniest patch of sunshine in his life, a dismal storm would cast its vast shadow over the days of his life. People always think of the beach as being sunny, but it's not. Nothing is bright all the time. Nothing is perfect.
Bound and determined to escape the hotel for the first time all week, he scoured through the bureau in search of his keys. Leaving everything else but his video camera behind, he headed out of the hotel and waited patiently for the valet to deliver his rental car. Thankfully, his grandfather hadn't canceled his credit card and he'd managed to finagle a vintage convertible. It was the lone splurge he'd had on his escapade thus far but an important one. Like every single decision he had made in the last year, he chose it with her in mind. He knew as soon as he saw it that it was the exact car she would pick. It was nice to be around something else that would remind him of her.
Once inside the car, he turned the dial in search of the perfect song for the moment. Flipping past a hard rock song about love lost and a country song about love found, he settled on a hopeful pop ballad from a 60s surf band. He'd heard it once with her on the way to the movies. She had stopped in the middle of the street to sing along with the summery tune pouring from the public speakers downtown. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, she had swayed along without an ounce of self-consciousness. Out of all the things he loved about Lulu, it was that one that got to him the most. Like her dancing, she lived life like no one else was watching.
A few miles away from the hotel, he pulled the car off on the shoulder of a gravel access road. He could see the coastline down below, the ocean's waves pounding new patterns into the sand with every breath and swell. Setting the camera on the dashboard, he turned up the radio even higher and let the tape roll. Capturing the roar of the waves and his baritone singing voice, it was a completely random moment in time that he knew she would appreciate. Steadying it so that it would hold while he drove, he finally pulled back onto the highway and headed for a destination unknown.
After driving for nearly an hour, he decided to stop at a diner and get some breakfast. As he waited for his coffee and eggs, he decided to film a little bit of his surroundings. The seaside café reminded slightly of Kelly's with its retro jukebox and picnic tablecloths. There was an older woman working behind the counter, her hair arranged in an ornate red bouffant hairstyle last seen in 1957. There was a row of construction workers lining the stools, talking animatedly about the baseball game the night before. A mother with twins in a stroller enjoyed a few moments of silence while her children napped and a family of tourists were pouring over a stack of maps in the corner booth.
As he panned toward the door, he was shocked to see an angelic blonde stride into the restaurant. If it was a movie, he would have to snidely comment on the cliché of the bell ringing above the door at her mere appearance. An homage to It's a Wonderful Life, he'd think, before rolling his eyes sarcastically at Lulu. He stayed on her for a moment and then adjusted his focus to the tall guy entering behind her. She turned around and smiled at him, giggling as he slipped his arms around her waist easily. Their movements were so fluid and in sync, clearly illustrating their love. "That was us," he whispered almost inaudibly before fading to black.
By the time he left the diner with a cup of coffee in hand, the rain had stopped, and he decided to try his hand at surfing. There was a small surf shop down by the beach, and he had never been. This time was supposed to be about finding himself, and surfing could just prove to be the key to an entirely different part of himself he never even knew existed. Grabbing his tripod from the back of the convertible, he headed down toward the shore with his mission in mind.
Renting the surfing gear had proven to be easy. A few quick lessons from a few of the local surfers and he was ready to hit the waves. First, however, he wanted to set up his camera and hope that it would capture something worth seeing. If nothing else, it would be pure comedy. Searching for the perfect spot, he was relieved to see a pair of sunbathing women. Somewhere in the mid-forties, he quickly approached them in search of some assistance. "Hi, sorry to bother you," he announced softly as he stood before them. His shadow blocked the sunlight, garnering the attention of both women. "I need your help."
One of the women sat up slowly, pulling her dark shades further down over her eyes. "What can we do for you?" she asked politely.
"I was wondering if I could set up my camera here to film my first attempt at surfing," he explained. "You wouldn't have to do anything except make sure it doesn't fall over or get taken. I don't know anyone else or I wouldn't be asking. This is just really important to me."
"You're not from around here," the other woman said, sitting up next to her friend. "I can tell from your accent. Why are you down here by yourself?"
"Uh…" he drawled.
"It's a girl. It's always a girl," the blonde woman said knowingly. "I'm Kathryn, and this is my best friend, Gracie. We don't mean to be nosy, but since you are asking for a favor, I guess it's okay."
"There is a girl," he acknowledged. "She can't be here, but I don't want her to miss this. I guess I'm filming this for her. I've been filming everything for her. It's a strange situation, really. I left because I couldn't be with her, but now that I'm gone, I feel like I always am." Dillon felt his lungs go empty at his confession. He couldn't believe he was opening up like this to total strangers.
"You look like my husband did at 20," Gracie said. "He did a summer abroad with the Peace Corps during college and filmed the entire thing. When he got home, he played it for me, and even today, it is still the most important thing I own. We'll be married 25 years next week."
"So that means you'll help me?" he asked with a genuine smile. Gracie and Kathryn nodded in unison, eliciting a wide grin from Dillon. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me."
"No," Gracie replied, "but I do know how much it will mean to her. Just promise me that you'll show this to her when you get home and again years from now."
Dillon didn't want to promise that, so he didn't. Instead, he just nodded boyishly and set up the camera. Once everything was in focus and aligned with the water, he jogged out toward the ocean with his board balanced on his head. His first attempt out wasn't successful, neither were his second or third. After about the tenth time, he was doing well enough to stand up for a second or two. By the time he reached the thirty mark, his body was feeling battered and bruised. Dillon Quartermaine was a natural at many things, but surfing most definitely wasn't one of them.
When the sun was straight over head, he finally abandoned the waves for drier ground. The women were standing up now, both fully dressed in jeans and button-up shirts. "We have to get going," Kathryn explained as he joined them. "Good luck with everything, good luck with the girl."
Gracie turned and looked at him. "Find what you are looking for so that you can back for her," she told him. "Somehow, I just know that you both were meant for each other. It might sound crazy but someone told me the same thing once. They turned out to be right. I'm pretty sure that this just like then."
Dillon dismounted the video camera and watched the two women as they climbed back up the hill toward their matching black SUVs. Just as she slipped into her vehicle, Gracie raised her hand to wave to him. "I hope you're right," he whispered to himself before turning the camera back toward himself. Staring at the red light, he smiled for a second before turning it off again. The battery's life was limited, and he still had a few more places to go.
It was nearly two by the time he made it back to the car, this time headed toward a park he had seen near the hotel. There were crowds of people mulling around the plush greens during the warmest afternoon hours. Dillon headed directly to the fountain he'd found last week and settled on the granite ledge. A trio of little girls was taking turns tossing pennies into the glassy surface, giggling as they went along. He filmed them briefly before turning the camera skyward. A bright air balloon floated by overhead, its bold colors contrasting the fluffy white clouds.
His stomach growled involuntary as the distinct aroma of soft pretzels filled the air. A little searching led him to a small Italian man with a cart of junk food and drinks. Digging into his pocket, he happily turned over a five-dollar bill in return for a piece of doughy goodness and a cold cup of lemonade. The man wished him a good day before moving on to the next customer, but Dillon didn't leave at first. He filmed the man working diligently at fulfilling each customer's hunger and thirst needs. Only when he looked up did Dillon make his escape, slightly embarrassed about being caught.
Heading up the path, Dillon was happy to find an abandoned picnic site. A blanket was spread on the green grass beneath a huge old tree, an inviting spot to hideout from the hot sun. Lying on his back, he watched the tree branches sway breezily overhead. He rested the camera on his stomach, letting the lens a glimpse into the same vantage point he was enjoying. He was finally ready to talk. He was ready to get to the heart of what had brought him here.
Dillon didn't turn the camera on himself as he started to speak. Instead, he chose to allow the camera to remain focused at what was going on in front of him. He wanted her to see the world the way he was seeing it in that moment. He wanted her to feel like she was there with him.
This is where I am right now in this moment. From this point of view, it could be anywhere in the world. For now, I'm pretending that I'm in Rice Park in Port Charles, enjoying this cold glass of lemonade with you. I feel lucky that I've gotten to enjoy this entire day with you. I'm looking, Lu. I'm searching really hard to find whatever it is out there that I need to find so that I can come home…so that I can come home to you.
For the final time, Dillon turned the camera on himself and stared into the black darkness of the lens. With a wink and a smile, he mouthed the words he really wanted to voice but still could not stand to hear.