609

He read the text message and smiled quietly before putting his cell phone back in his pocket.

Then he looked up and around the office table at his colleagues. "Are we clear, then?" he asked. His stern scowl reached each of the attendees as they cowered in their seats. "Each of your divisions will be expected to comply with the new expectations. Any thing less than a 10% increase will be unacceptable."

Like children disciplined by the principal at a Catholic elementary school, his subordinates quickly filed out of the room, eager to get working on their boss' newest demands. As the last one left, Gavin dropped his shoulders, letting out a sigh and deflating back into what he thought of as his human self.

He hated these weekly meetings.

For years it'd been the same story; badger his people into continuing to bring in profits, despite any market fluctuations, the pandemic being their greatest challenge yet.

Gavin ran a hand down his tired face and then rubbed the stiffness out of his neck. His next meeting was with his boss. To explain his team's overall performance. His turn for the stern talking to and his own new, higher demands and expectations. There was always more to do.

The Joy.

But then, there was the text.

609

Three little numbers; one little area code.

He knew it well.

She needed him.

They'd had an arrangement.

When she wanted to see him, she texted him.

No strings. No long-term expectations. Just blissful time together.

At a small house in Cape May, nestled off the beach on the corner of Pearl and West Central.

Not many people knew about that part of Cape May, but he did.

Because of her; Lindsay.

They'd met at a funeral, of all places.

She was from his high school. He never knew her when they attended, but apparently they'd shared the same teacher; the kind who makes the difference in her students' lives.

After graduating, he'd stayed put in the city, and she relocated almost three hours away from all the hustle and bustle of their crazy, hometown neighborhood.

They'd made a pact that day at the funeral.

No last names. No looking into each others' lives. No long-distance relationship. Once a month meet-ups that no one was to know anything about.

Both had commitment hang-ups due to rough childhoods. Their arrangement worked for them. Neither had the backbone for broken hearts.

Of course, he'd kept his word on the surface only. He knew everything there was to know about Lindsay.

She lived alone, and never dated.

She was a swim instructor at the local life guard training school. She also taught first aid, CPR, AED and any other certification training you could think of.

She was an avid foster mom for the local non-kill shelter in her county and was quite skilled at adopting out their animals, finding them loving, forever homes. He had 2 dogs waiting at home for him because of Lindsay, though he never told her about them. He'd adopted each of them after he'd found her crying over their remaining on the non-adoption lists. She had been terrified that they'd be put down. Her tears affected him more than he cared to admit and the next thing he knew, he was bringing home the oddest pair of animals he'd ever met; a mangy-looking chihuahua named Taquito, and his big sidekick, Sasha, who was a mixed-breed pitbull of some sort. Ugly as sin, the chihuahua behaved like a deadly rottweiler while Sasha flinched at her own shadow. She loved Taquito; he was her fierce protector and she loved him for it, always bedding down at night with him at her side.

Lindsay's sister, Delanore, had passed at age 11 from Rasmussen Syndrome. Therefore, Lindsay often volunteered for the local chapter of CHASA (Children's Hemiplegia and Stroke Association) to help children recovering from hemispherectomy surgery. It was a drastic procedure carried out to save the lives of children like Delanore, who hadn't been lucky enough to have the benefit of such an operation.

After Delanore passed, well, let's just say that things between her parents weren't good, and Lindsay'd never fully recovered enough to want to date and risk her heart.

Lindsay liked to bake, but couldn't cook worth a damn. Oil paints donned all of her walls as she was quite talented with a brush. Her singing skills? Abysmal. Lindsay's smile lit up a room drowning out everything else around her, but her temper was sight to behold. Whoa is the man who stood in her way of what she wanted.

Gavin never got in her way.

He held her for a weekend. He made love to her against her countertops, on the rug in her living room, and on the canopy bed in her loft. He watched sappy movies from Lindsay's couch by the fireplace. He kissed her neck and she purred in his ear. Lindsay trembled with his body on the beach at night, and he held her hand over breakfast on her deck on Sunday mornings.

And then he went home.

Back to the city. Back to the chaos and lonely drama.

And waited for his next text message.

That 609 he couldn't wait to receive each month.
___________________________
To find out more about CHASA, Rasmussen Syndrome and/or Hemispherectomy, please visit:

https://chasa.org

https://rarediseases.org/rare-diseases/rasmussensyndrome-encephalitis

https://www.encephalitis.info/rasmussens-encephalitis

https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/treatments/17092-hemispherectomy