Let Me Go (Owned 2)

I’d barely entered the overly air-conditioned apartment when Vera was on me like white on rice. I liked Vera. She was upbeat, brazen, and unlike anyone I’d known. Still, at that moment, I just wanted to sink into the couch and let my mind go. It felt like since leaving Georgia my mind was always back there, that since leaving I was stuck there more than ever, trapped in memories. I needed a few moments to decompress.

I shrugged off my messenger bag, placed my keys on the table by the door, and sat on the couch.

“It went well,” I said. The patio doors were open and I could smell the ocean. Despite having been there for nearly a week, I still couldn’t believe it. I was in California. I was near the beach. I had escaped, gotten out. The beach was only a walk away. I could actually walk there. I could walk to the edge of the world and see its end.

I shook my head again.

I’d heard of kids going to parties with Navy boys out on the Georgia coast. I knew that California wasn’t the only beach with the only ocean in the US. I didn’t need to trek across the US to see the edge of the world—though in a way, I had. In Georgia I was trapped in the middle of nowhere, held in place as if my feet were stuck in tar.

Vera sat next to me, a drink in her hand that smelled faintly of alcohol.

“Well.” She nudged me with her shoulder, careful not to spill her drink. “Don’t leave me hangin’. Did you get the job?”

I nodded, feeling more tired than I should have at two p.m. My eyelids felt stuck by glue and my shoulders weighed by stones. “I got the job. I start next week, making twelve dollars an hour with dental.”

“Hot damn!” Vera practically screamed. “We need to celebrate. I made sweet tea mint juleps. I’ll go pour you one.”

I raised a hand to stop her but she was already in the kitchen. I was not in the mood to drink. I could count on my hand the number of times I’d had alcohol, which still seemed like a lot considering Daddy had said it was the devil’s juice. That wasn’t the reason I didn’t want it now, though.

As Vera walked in with my drink, I waved her off. She shrugged, placing the drink on the coffee table.

“What’s up, Grace? You look like someone kicked your pup.”

I sighed. “I’m worried.”

“About…” Vera laughed. “It’s like pulling teeth with you.”

I laughed despite my worries. I couldn’t help it; Vera was contagious. Settling down, I explained, “I moved to Santa Barbara to meet my brother, not to become a barista.”

Vera nodded, taking a big sip of mint julep. “We’ve never really talked about how we came here. You know we were just thrust together in this situation. I’m glad, because you’re cooler than the ice in my drink”—Vera gestured to her nearly empty drink—“still, two young, hot southern chicks in California? There’s a story there.”

“What’s your story?” I asked.

“Well an ex done me wrong, of course.” Vera laughed.

Since I’d met her, Vera had always been in some form of laughter. Whether she was giggling, smiling, or full on gut-busting, there was laughter in her. It was like life was one big joke to her. The fact that she was homeless and all of h

er possessions had been stolen didn’t even deter her from joking.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked. I didn’t know how to approach the subject. Heck, I didn’t even know how to approach people, much less people with serious issues. Did I hug her? Did I touch her? Did I pretend she hadn’t just confided something so intimate in me?

Vera smiled and rested a hand on my knee. “That’s all in the past. I don’t know about you, darling, but I’m living in the present.” That seemed like a good idea. Living in the present… I wondered how you did that, ignored the past and its awful memories and just be.

My gaze drifted back to the open patio doors. I could see the ocean’s blue waters so easily. We were right there; the ocean was just in front of us. I was so lucky to be able to look up and see the vast, sprawling expanse. It was such an intense blue, reminding me of the blue skies back home in the summer…

Would I ever be free of my memories when everything acted as a reminder?

“So what about this brother?” Vera’s voice brought me back to the living room.

“He wants nothing to do with me,” I muttered, eyes still set on the intense Carolina blue.

“Seems to me that it’s time to let that horse go.”

I turned my head back to Vera. “What?”

She flipped a hand, as if waving away an imaginary bug. “He wants nothing to do with you, have nothing to do with him.”

I hadn’t considered that a possibility. “The entire reason I came to California was Vic.”