I park my car in the hotel parking lot and grab my bags. I head for check-in, they’ve just started remodeling. The lobby is sunny and bright, with lime green chairs and abstract art. It even smells expensive. The hotel is cliff side to the ocean with its own private beach access or course. I don’t even need to give my name, they know me here now. I just sign the papers, throw down the company credit card and pick up my room keys.
They say something welcoming but I’m not listening, I’m thinking about him and the sea. I search for my room and when I open the door the familiarity of it is like home, I’ve been here so many times now. I put down my bags and throw open the curtains, push the slider open and take a huge breath of the ocean air. The sun is very bright off the water. I check my phone, “almost there, what room number?”, I reply, pull out a cigarette and light it. Mr. Blue eyes is on his way.
This is how it goes now. He comes here from work, sometimes we go to the hot tub and pretend we’re different people. Or we go to a local taco stand and get shrimp tacos with corn salsa and beer, pretending we’re a couple traveling. We walk down to the beach and wander around. We found a cave once and took pictures of each other in it. We talk about absolutely everything. We stare into space and ponder life. Talk about aliens and the meaning of it all.
We kiss, slowly, in the dark on the balcony. We drink until we’re laughing instead of hurting. We barely sleep. We listen to music loud in the middle of the night and don’t say a word. It is destructive this lifestyle we are living but we can’t seem to stop. He takes my pain and he holds it. He doesn’t try to shape it into something else, he doesn’t even try and understand. He just sits next to me and holds my hand. In turn, I mold his pain into something he can feel justified about-anger. I make him feel like a man again. Like he is wanted because to me, he is. Somehow, on this earth, we have connected, and neither of our lives will ever be the same again.