Secrets Whispered from the Sea - Emma St. Clair Page 0,3

my older sister, but something in me snapped. It was like a pair of invisible scissors cut the last string tying me to my life in Houston, to this man.

“I left Texas. I’m halfway to North Carolina.”

“You’re taking a trip home?”

“No, Chuck. I’m not taking a trip. You broke up with me, I lost my job, and my nana died. I’m headed there until I get another job.” I paused. “In another city.”

I had no idea which one yet, but I hadn’t met a city that I didn’t like. From DC to Charlotte to Houston, each of the places I’d lived since college had something new and different to enjoy. Maybe I didn’t plan for this, but it was time for a change. The silence on the phone line was so thick, it felt like it reached through the phone and slapped me in the face.

“I’m so sorry about your nana. She was the one you were really close to, right? The other black sheep of your family?”

Chuck remembered who Nana was? This shocked me. I hadn’t ever talked much about my family, and eventually Chuck stopped asking when he would meet them. Nana and I were the quirky ones who sometimes colored outside the lines. The redheads (though Nana had gone white), the ones who would stand out amongst the blonds in a police lineup with the rest of our family. At some point, I had told Chuck all that, but I didn’t expect that he’d remember. His genuine concern did nothing to help me stop imagining his handsome face, wondering if I shouldn’t have been so quick to pack up and go.

“I’m so sorry about your job. Was it the presentation?”

I winced. “It was.”

Chuck had tried to talk me out of my old-school presentation on a cardboard tri-fold I’d purchased at Walgreens. But I’d been inspired after watching 13 Going on 30 and couldn’t be dissuaded. How was I supposed to know that our company was making cutbacks, and that this would be the final showdown between me and my nemesis, David? His cutting-edge virtual reality presentation made mine seem like a Kindergarten project.

“I really had terrible timing,” Chuck said. “I feel like such a jerk. I can fly out and meet you for the funeral. I’ll be there for you, and then we can talk about all this. You need someone.”

“I’ve got plenty of people.”

Chuck didn’t say anything. We both knew that I didn’t have plenty of people. But I didn’t need anyone. People meant entanglements and roots. I liked to move, to change. That was something I could be proud of. I was flexible, adaptable. Always up for the next adventure. There were a few girls I went out with occasionally in Houston, just as there had been in Charlotte and DC. Not good friends, just acquaintances. I didn’t drink, so the bar scene wasn’t ever my thing, putting a damper on my social life. When I left a city, I usually left those acquaintances behind too. Nana was the only person I talked to on a weekly basis.

I gulped. Now I really didn’t have anyone.

“What state are you in now?” Chuck asked, and I was thankful for the change in subjects.

I paused before answering. Something kept me on the line, and I didn’t want to think about it for too long. “Alabama.”

“Wow. You’re already a few states away.”

Why did Chuck have to sound so sad? He had been the one to say that he didn’t feel like we were headed towards a future. He had said it was for the best.

“I need to get some sleep. Long day of driving tomorrow. Goodbye, Chuck.”

I hung up before he had a chance to respond.

After that call, I didn’t need to count the popcorn. I simply rolled over and sleep rose up to meet me, wrapping me in dreams.

3

The second day of the drive had me itchy and restless. Normally, I loved road trips, but I didn’t need all the time for introspection right now. It didn’t help that driving through North Carolina was like an unwanted jaunt down memory lane. Charlotte, where I’d worked before moving to Houston. Greensboro, where I’d gone to college. And Raleigh, where I grew up.

If Dad and I had a different kind of relationship, I might have pulled off to see him in Chapel Hill. He had bought a little house right after Mom died, the summer before I started college. He had always wanted to live closer to UNC, where he