"I hope you're ready for this?"
Damon rakes a hand through his hair and nods at Ric. "I can handle it."
He takes another sip of his strong coffee. This place has a variety of blends, but he prefers it black and he more than needs the caffeine. His ass is dragging from getting up in the middle of the night to make the four-hundred-mile drive from Seattle to Coos Bay, Oregon. He eagerly sucks his coffee down like it's a lifeline.
"Alright then, don't make me regret this, Damon. I had to pull a lot of strings to get you a position."
"I won't," Damon signals the waitress over. He internally rolls his eyes when she leans forward, giving him an ample view of her cleavage while she refills it and sashays away, looking over her shoulder to flirt at him.
"Some things never change," Ric rolls his eyes and takes another swallow from his cup.
Damon nods as he wraps his fingers around his cup. "What time do you want me to show up Monday?"
"Seven sharp. I'll show you around and introduce you to some of the others. It's not the most glamorous job but the pay and benefits are good."
"I really have no expectations, Ric, I'm just grateful for the opportunity," Damon lifts the cup to his lips, emptying it with one long slog. Setting it down, he picks up his things and offers his hand.
"I'll go with you," Ric shakes hands with Damon and throws a few bills on the table.
"I need to find a place to stay. I'll see you bright and early Monday morning..." Damon walks out with Ric on his heels. Throwing his jacket in the back of his car, he waves at his friend and drives away with his heart beating wildly inside his chest.
Damon feels edgy and needs to blow off some nervous energy. He drives down to the beach, something he did often as a kid when he needed to think. Toeing off his shoes, he throws them in the back seat and walks toward the water.
With every step the sand shifts. With every motion forward there is some backward and down, just like walking in freshly fallen snow. Yet unlike the crystalline blanket of white bequeathed by the winter time, the fine grains underfoot give him warmth from the sun's rays.
Despite the heat, Damon finds himself frozen in place once his eyes take in the ocean. The waves roll in white-tipped, spreading themselves like fine lace over the beach after they crash in their soft way. There is nothing noisy about them, yet they have sound. It is more like the music of his childhood summers.
If Damon closes his eyes, he can hear his mother calling him for lunch and his dad rustling the newspaper. In his closed hand appears a red bucket and spade, there is nothing to worry him, no fears...
If only...
As time elapses endlessly he sits down in the stand, bringing his knees up to his chest, retrospectively reflecting on his life. A white blanket of froth forms as the tide gradually approaches the shore. A sense of nostalgia gushes through, just him and the tranquilizing waves which crash vigorously against the shore.
Losing track of time, he shakes out of his stupor when a dog shakes his fur out, dousing him with seawater. He can't help but smile when a little boy approaches.
"Sorry Mister." The boy looks down as he bobs back and forth from one foot to the other.
"It's okay, kid." Damon picks up a nearby stick, jumps to his feet, and launches it, watching for a minute while the boy and the dog chase after it. He brushes the sand off as best he can, returns to his car, and merges onto the highway, his mind and body slightly less unsettled.
"Thank you, Mrs. Flowers. This apartment is just perfect." Damon smiles at the older woman.
"Rent is due the first of the month, you have a five-day grace period and after that, you have to pay a twenty-five-dollar late fee."
"I understand." Damon walks her to the door, closing it with a click once she's gone. Plopping down in the chair, he stares out the sliding glass door, his traitorous mind craving other things.
The seduction of blocking out the reality that haunts him every minute of every day, taunting him to give in. Damon isn't bullshitting himself into thinking that one would help, he wants it all.
The only thing keeping him from giving in is... he doesn't want his stupid ass to mess up a well-deserved peace. There's been too much of his bullshit already, Damon can't do it anymore. He has to take care of and prioritize himself now... He needs to succeed.
And to be honest, Damon feels restless. Rather than sit there and feel sorry for himself, he grabs his keys and races outside and into his car.
He drives along the coastline till he reaches a familiar place. Squealing the tires, Damon whips into the parking lot, and slams on the brakes, quickly exiting his car to go inside.
Ice clinks against the glass, and sizzles in contact with the warm air that's flushed his face. With the back of his forearm, Damon wipes away the beads of sweat that are forming on his forehead.
A glass slides across the wood top, and there's an exchange of money, a mumbling rage about the high prices of the booze.
A man drowns his sorrow in the elixir at one end of the bar, and a young couple flirts shamelessly at the other end with the nectar in hand. Smoke twists in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the various bar lights and neon signs that advertise beer and alcohol.
A sour and vile taste forms in Damon's mouth, nullifying him and stealing away reality in favor of fantasy. Raking his hand through his hair, he drops a couple of dollars on the counter and hurries outside. He closes his eyes to the lullaby of the ocean, breathing in its poignant salty breath.
Getting back into his car, Damon stops to fill the gas tank and then just drives. As if guided by an invisible hand, he finds himself on a familiar street. Daylight is fading into the evening now. As the sun sinks into the Pacific, he steers his vehicle into the neighborhood park.
Damon closes the car door and leans back onto the hood, staring out into nothing really. A deep breath. And another. His fingers tremble around the cigarette as he lights it. The smell and taste are bitter. Perhaps that's what gives him comfort.
Even if it's only for a moment. Damon inhales slowly, his system responding to the smoke, and he feels his lungs being wrapped by a warm blanket. Taking small, slow draws of the cigarette, he feels an overpowering urge to take a look.
As soon as he finishes, he takes off down the sidewalk, crossing the street to reach safety behind a row of hedges. Damon focuses on the house across the way, he gasps silently when the door opens and she's on the porch with a light breeze billowing around her skirt.
Damon's never seen a more beautiful woman. With brunette hair and her head held high, she walks down the sidewalk with the other woman to a car.
Not wanting to be seen, Damon ducks back further into the hedges. Even from his hiding place, he can see her eyes, so beautiful like the stars themselves. He watches mesmerized until she goes back inside, pulling the door closed behind her.
Her shadow crosses the window before the light goes out. Sucking in a breath, he steps from the safety of the bushes and hurries back to his car.
Dropping his face into his hands, Damon sits there for several moments before sticking the key in the ignition. With a sigh, he presses the gas pedal and careens away, determined not to fail again.
Thank you for reading. This story is four years old. It was written before Eva had her stroke a little later on in 2019. I'm going to go over each chapter and try to edit them if needed. Four years is a long time and many stories ago. I honestly don't know why we never got around to posting it.
Thank you, Eva. Love you.
Chapter title: Coming Home by Enrique Iglesias.
Do let me know if you're interested in reading more. I will probably wait until F&G is closer to completion before posting more chapters.
This story is inspired/based on Alice Cooper's "The Quiet Room."
I hope you all have a safe and fun St. Patrick's Day and a wonderful weekend.