Caralice

I know I'm not alone on the Santa Monica shore, but in the moments I spend watching the horizon it feels like it. The ivory-white sand of the beach looks rosy pastel against the first rays of sunset. In waves of cool kisses, the foam of the tide gently laps at my toes while I gaze upon the water. A shimmering mayan of serene endlessness. A chilly breeze runs through the air, and I catch the time on my phone which flashes at 6:30 p.m.

My body leaves a watermelon-sized imprint in the tiny grains and I begin to walk to the boardwalk with my bubblegum flip flops in hand. On the wooden walkway, a streak of golden sunlight arrows a man and makes him stand out, a single drop of color against sprinkles of shadowy personas. The light seems to be blinding him since he looks down with his eyes squinted. I draw nearer to him, and as we are just a foot apart, it is then that excruciating familiarity strikes me.

"Alex?"

His head rises and his eyes widen when his face sees mine. Those hazels that looked at me with sparkling intensity. His curly, black hair, dark as night, that I had desperately longed to run my hands through. That handsome face that even after all these years did not seem to age. Did not fail to remind me of that time.

"Cara?" Alex's voice is the same low, distinct tone that I would play on loops in my head. "Caralice?" It was him. But how?

"Yeah," I chuckle but can feel my eyes watering.

"I can't believe it's you!" Enthusiastic, he reaches his arms out to me.

I want to curse at him for an hour. I want to yell at him how he crushed me and how long I had hurt. And despite all that, I still want his touch.

I cradle myself into his warmth and Alex's arms wrap snugly around my waist while my hands slip around his neck. The scent of his cologne fills the air as my nose pressed against his skin. He's using a different one now. It's less boyish, more expensive, masculine. I fear he has changed and moved on. I pray that night under the stars at the end of our senior year didn't mean nothing to him.

Our embrace drags on for several seconds too long. I pull away, ashamed that I had let myself fall for him again, even if just for a moment. Alex's eyes look teary, but I'm afraid I'm just seeing things in the dark.

The weight of unsaid words sits heavy in the air. We can't bring ourselves eye to eye. Finally, Alex speaks, and his voice is soft.

"I live here now."

I can't believe it.

"Me too." I hesitate before I ask, "Downtown?"

"Yeah."

A shorebird's lonely cry croaks through the air. Another on the opposite end of the beach croaks back.

"It's late, I have to go," I tell him as I can feel my eyes flooding. Why after all this time is he showing up into my life? I had moved on, he had no right to make me feel this way again.

"Before you go, can I get your phone number? I could never reach you after... highschool."

I want to run away and never see him again, but there's a pleadingly anguished look that swims deep in the emerald flickers of his walnuts. He's doing it again. He's drawing me in.

I leave the Monica boardwalk having exchanged numbers with Alex. We're going to meet up sometime. A hundred feet away, I can only see the black outline of his back, still uniquely distinguishable. I wonder what he thinks of when he looks at the lavish, rosy horizon. Silently, I mouth a sentence that I know he can't hear me say.

"I've always had your number."

My feet turn and pick up again, and the tears I held for so long begin to run down my cheeks.