Reclaiming the Sand(80)

I looked over at Flynn who was staring holes into the floor. “Room 410, Flynn. It’s at the end of the hallway on the fourth floor,” I said. He nodded.

“Room 410. End of the hallway on the fourth floor,” he repeated. Paula was looking at Flynn, her face pinched and judgmental as I had seen so many times before.

I grabbed the key from her hand a little more aggressively than I meant to. “Stop looking at him. He doesn’t like it,” I hissed under my breath, low enough so Flynn couldn’t hear me, but loud enough that she got my message loud and clear.

She straightened her spine and puffed her chest indignantly. We weren’t going to be given the favorite guests award, that’s for sure.

She practically shoved the paperwork into my hand and I narrowed my eyes in warning. Without another word, I turned back to Flynn and put my hand on his arm. He didn’t jerk away, leaned into me instead.

“Come on,” I said softly, taking Murphy’s lead from him. He lifted up our bags and followed me to the elevator. I could feel the tension radiating off him but I hoped once were settled in our room he would be okay. This wasn’t the best start to our mini-vacation.

Once the doors closed and we were moving upwards, it became clear that Flynn and elevators did not mix. He pressed himself into the corner and took deep, shaky breaths. He looked ready to have a panic attack. We weren’t thirty minutes into our vacation and I was already exhausted and wondering if we shouldn’t head back to home.

Then the doors opened and Flynn rushed passed me into the hallway. Murphy tried to pull me after him, thinking it was a game. Flynn found our room quickly and I handed him the key. Once we were inside, I stood there, gaping in shock.

The room was huge! A king sized bed dominated a good portion of the room. But there was also a small seating area with a coffee table and television. A desk was pushed against the wall with a floor lamp beside it. There was a coffee maker and a microwave and a small refrigerator tucked into the wardrobe.

But it was the view that held me captive. The entire far wall consisted of sliding glass doors that led out to a small balcony overlooking the rolling ocean. The sun was sitting low in the sky, cutting a path of color along the water.

Murphy trotted inside and jumped up on the bed, making himself right at home. Flynn closed the door behind him and looked around.

“It’s clean. That’s good,” he said, clutching his hands together. He was nervous. I was awestruck.

I walked toward the glass doors, feeling the pull of the sand below us. I pressed my hand against the glass.

“It’s beautiful!” I breathed.

Flynn didn’t respond, not that I expected him to. I couldn’t believe I was here and it was all thanks to the man behind me, whose nerves radiated off him like the waves crashing along the shore.

I turned to face him and found that he hadn’t moved any farther into the room. I bit down on my resentful irritation. Why couldn’t he be normal just this once? I thought hatefully before I could stop myself.

And then I felt guilty for thinking that at all. I wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for Flynn. He was doing this for me. For him. For the both of us. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed by things he couldn’t control.

But it didn’t stop me from wishing like a selfish brat that he’d suck it up, just this once.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It’s not his fault. I reminded myself over and over again. He did this for you.

I opened my eyes and crossed the room back to Flynn. I picked up our suitcases and put them on the bed. “Let’s unpack and put things in their places. You can make sure you’re comfortable before we decide what to do next,” I suggested.

Flynn nodded and joined me by the bed. The next hour was spent taking out clothes and hanging them in the wardrobe. Then he placed his toiletries in the bathroom exactly how they were positioned on his sink at home. He and I looked in all the nooks and crannies until he knew the room inside and out.

I saw that he was starting to calm down. He had stopped rubbing his hands, though he continued to gnaw on his bottom lip.

I found Murphy’s bowls and filled them with food and water. He scarfed it down quickly and then resumed his nap on the bed.

“Do you want to go to the beach?” I asked, hoping he’d say yes, though deep down knowing better.

Flynn sat down tentatively on the bed. “I don’t know,” he said, turning his attention to the glass doors. I was dying to go for a walk on the sand. To get my toes wet in the waves. But I couldn’t rush him.

“How about we open the doors and walk out on the balcony first. See how you feel about it after that,” I prompted.

Flynn stared out the window for a while longer then nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, though he still sounded nervous.

I opened the sliding doors and waited for Flynn before stepping outside. There was a strong breeze coming off the ocean and I felt the salt sticking to my skin. I licked my lips, tasting it on my mouth.

“It’s cold,” Flynn said.

“Do you want a sweater?” I asked him. He shook his head.

“No, I’m okay.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the picture before us.

“What do you think? Is it as horrible as last time?” I asked.

Flynn shrugged his shoulders. “It smells just as bad. Like fish. It’s gross. And I don’t like how sticky my skin feels. I need to wash my hands,” he held his palms out like they were bothering him.