Katie's Cafe

32

There's something so different about the fresh sea air. It's so much cleaner than back in the city. I'm starting to understand why a lot of people move to places like this when they retire.

I must be a real glutton for punishment though by suggesting we go to the beach together, just so I can perve on Tom laying next to me in his swimming trunks.

"Something wrong?" he asks when he notices me staring.

"No, I'm fine," I lie unconvincingly.

"Looking is free Sara, but touching will cost you," he smirks.

He can be such a playful tease sometimes.

"I need a drink, I'll be back in a minute".

On my way back from getting one, I walk past a small gift shop, so I take this random opportunity while I'm alone to get him something for his birthday.

I can't exactly get him a bucket and spade can I, that would be stupid right? No, I definitely can't do that.

There's not much in here that wouldn't be considered an immensely cheesy gift, so I eventually end up settling for a mug with the name 'TOM' painted on it.

I really hope he isn't too disappointed by it, but hopefully he's the sentimental type.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Fish and chips at the coast are the best," he tells me while he's eating his.

"I'll have to agree with you on that now I've finally tried them for myself".

"You've never had them at the coast before today?" he looks at me confused.

"Do you really think that all foster parents are nice people that take the kids they look after on day trips? In my experience, people sometimes do it purely for the money".

"What were your foster parents like?"

"I never stayed in the same placement long enough to get comfortable or bond with any of them really".

That was my own personal experience in foster care. The real Sara eventually ended up with a nice foster family that she stayed with up until she moved out at eighteen.

I however, ended up with the worst of the worst. My least favourite placement was definitely the one where the foster dad had a strict rule against locking doors in his house.

The reason why he had that rule became quickly apparent when he kept 'accidentally' walking in on me getting dressed. Once would be considered an accident, but not multiple times a day.

His wife definitely knew what he was doing and always made excuses for his creepy behaviour. She told me I should've just been grateful that they were willing to take me in at all.

When I did open up to my social worker about it, she insinuated that I might've been lying because my foster parents had already phoned and told her I was a troublemaker.

Is it any wonder why I didn't feel comfortable talking about my feelings when that's what I was used to growing up? I was thirteen years old and labelled a liar, even though I'd told her the truth.

"Why not?" he asks while he continues to eat.

"That might be a story for another time. Although I'll tell you that I was told by a school councillor once that I have major issues with authority figures," I laugh.

"And yet, here you are in a serious relationship with someone that works with the police. That's an interesting turn of events".

"Just consider yourself lucky that you're a very handsome authority figure. Plus, you lured me in with your charm before I realised what you did for a living".