Sorry, Not Sorry

- 38

I dip my feet in the water, swaying them back and forth. "Do we want to do late January?" I ask, leaning forwards to look at the swaying plants under the water.

"I was thinking Febuary." Max says, lying on the grass with his hand over his eyes to shield them from the bright sunlight. "I want it to go over my birthday."

"Really? Whens your birthday?" I ask, knowing thats something I should know.

"The 5th." He says, "My mother told me that if I already have plans then I won't have to go to a dinner with my grandparents."

"For people who were so quick to throw you away, they sure are desperate for you to come back."

Max chuckles, his eyes still covered by his gently curled hand. "So? Can we go Febuary, then?"

"Totally." I say, looking up at the sun peeking through the treetops. "I was thinking the trip should be 2 weeks long." I add, "so that leaves us with plenty of time to get to Ostradge and back and also have some fun along the way."

"Ostradge?" Max asks.

"Oh, that's the town the orphanage is in." I explain with a shrug, though he can't seem to see me through his hand.

"How about we go from the 4th to the 18th." He suggests, glancing over at me discreetly.

"That sounds good." I agree, "we've got to go down to the coast on the way." I say, "It's only like a  day out from here-" I point down at the ground beneath us "-and, we can go to the beach. We could even go there again on the way back."

"I should bring my guitar and play somewhere, "He says, "at a pub on the drive, or even on the beach."

"Would you be okay with getting your guitar sandy?" I ask.

"I'd be careful." He laughs. We lie there for a while more, until eventually he sits up. "The bugs are coming out." He says, "let's get inside." He offers his hand to help me up.

I nod, pulling myself up. The dirt from the path clings to my feet as we climb the hill to his house, sharp rocks poking my toes and bushes  reaching for my ankles.

We dry our dirty feet off on white towels and flop down on his bed. "Can I paint a picture of your house?" I ask as we look up at his ceiling.

"I mean, anything you'd like." He says.

"Cause like... My theme is 'home' and it is a home." I shrug.

"My home." He says pointedly.

"I'm here often enough." I say, turning to face him.

"Hardly! You need to come over far more often. Catch a bus everyday after work and just knock on my door."

"What if you're not home?" I ask.

"Well, I'll always make sure I'm home for you." He says, "I hardly go anywhere at that time, anyway." He pauses, "That's when I write my music, unless I'm out wth you. Its my most productive time, especially with you."

I exhale a happy breath. "I'm glad you're doing okay." I say, quietly.

He smirks at me, "Me too."

A week later, Max and I plan to meet up again after work, but things don't go to plan when I spot a familiar face in the line. Wait, what do I do? I panic, glancing over at Delilah to see if she's evailable. I bite my lip, answering the next customer perfectly. I thank her as she passes me the cash and goes to sit down. He's after this next woman. I think, looking around. "Ah- How could I help you?" I ask.
I finish the woman's order, panicking as she's about to turn and reveal the man behind her. I quickly duck down and press  my body against the counter so he can't see me. The door dings as someone rushes inside, sneaking past the line to stand behind the counter.