Together Again • JJ Maybank

Ten

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Sat crossed legged on my bed with my laptop balanced on my knees, I thanked God that I had managed to convince Nana to have WiFi installed recently. Hearing the hum of the laptop fan whirring to life, I placed the four postcards to my left, organizing them in the exact way I had shown JJ yesterday while I waited for the login screen to load.

I ran my finger over the tiny number written at the bottom of one of the cards, a nervous feeling growing in my gut. Our theory had to be correct, right? I don't know how I'll react if it isn't.

As soon as the laptop powered up, I opened a browser, instantly searching for the website Pope had told me to use. My mind flicked back to the day we snuck into the country club to use their internet after the hurricane. Everything felt so much simpler back then, but little did we know the storm we were blindly walking into as we excitedly searched the coordinates for the Royal Merchant.

I looked back to the screen when it loaded and clicked on the search box, entering the numbers written on the postcards, one by one. With a deep breath, I psyched myself up to hit search.

The 3D map of the World began to spin, zooming in closer and closer down to the east coast of Florida and beyond before it settled on a small island. I glanced back at the postcards, the puzzle pieces slotting together drew the same exact outline. Nassau. 

But the browser hadn't finished loading. It zoomed even closer, towards the south coast of the island. Business names and locations started popping up the further the screen zoomed in. My eyes were wide, barely blinking as I waited for the final pin to drop at the exact coordinates I had entered. And when that little red pin appeared, and the screen halted on its final resting place, my heart instantly raced. 

South Bay Surf Shack.

I blinked at the screen a couple of times as I read over the words, the silence of my empty house suddenly feeling even more deafening that usual. Eventually I forced myself to carry on, slowly clicking on the pin to read the information. There wasn't much. No website, no pictures, a few reviews. But there was a telephone number. 

My mouth felt dry as my mind raced. But I forced myself to pick up my phone regardless. Slowly I typed in the numbers, ignoring the thought of the international roaming charges, and with a final deep breath I hit the green call button.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello, South Bay surf shack, how can I help?" 

I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My mouth fell open as I gasped, my hand flying up to cover it. Tears were forming in my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"Hello?"

The voice was so clear through the line, but I felt like I was in a tunnel, my ears ringing and vision blurring.

"Hello, is anyone there?" The voice asked, growing frustrated at my silence.

"H-hi." I squeaked, suddenly forgetting how to form words. "It's A-Abby." The line went silent. The only sound was a deep breath on the other end. "It's you. Isn't it?"

I could hear shuffling through the line, as if they were moving around. Then the click of a door closing before the phone rustled as it moved back to their ear. "Y-you got the postcards?"

"Oh my God." My hands physically shook as I whispered. "It's really you? John B, tell me it's really you?" I knew it was. I knew his voice anywhere. I had dreamt about hearing it again for four months now. But I needed him to confirm it. I needed to know I wasn't dreaming or imagining it.