Tide /tid/ noun: The alternate rising and falling of the sea due to the attraction of the moon and sun.
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The sun was burning the back of my neck as I helped Ryan rebuild a seawall that had long seen better days. We had to bring the machinery onto the beach to get it done. Where the home was located didn't have a big beach which meant we had to wait until low tide. Our timing couldn't have been better, turned out that it was a rare ultra-low tide, something I had never paid attention to despite living on the coast most of my life. It was cool though, seeing what usually lay under the ocean now exposed.
Ryan was sitting in the excavator. The man had serious skill that he loved to show off. He could pick up a broom in the bucket teeth and sweep a job site, that's how precise an operator he was. I was okay, I could work a jobsite with the best of them but Ryan's technical handling was show stopping. He knew it too. If it wasn't for the tide crunch, he would've done something insane on the beach to prove it. As it was, he had one eye on the ocean as the water slowly pulled in.
I've worked in some crazy environments. It was just a year ago I'd been in Alaska, working on boats. If you've ever scuba-dived off the coast of Kodiak you know how brutal it can be. Yet, working on the beach during a rare, early season coastal heat wave was turning me inside out. But there I was, on the ground doing whatever was needed because Ryan had asked.
"Jared's struggling with the dump truck, can you help back it in?" Ryan shouted from his seat. "We gotta move. We have thirty minutes before the ocean comes and repos everything we have."
I could've pulled Jared from the truck and done it myself but I decided to guide him instead. Ryan needed guys who knew what to do and Jared wouldn't learn if I did it for him. So, I showed him a few tricks that would help move the Kenworth on the sand a bit easier, then stood in his line of sight and encouraged him backward. I could tell he was nervous but he managed just fine.
We ended up getting the rest of the wall rebuilt and everything off the beach just as the waves started lapping at our feet. Everyone stood around the work trucks, doing the final packing. I grabbed a sweatshirt from behind my seat and wiped the sweat from my neck and face.
"Stop by for dinner tonight. I owe you."
I tossed the sweatshirt behind the seat and closed the door. "Pass."
Ryan inhaled. I knew he wanted to argue—he'd been after me for a while—almost a year already. I could feel him watching me, waiting for me to make eye contact so he could reprimand me.
Penn, you can't run away forever.
And I wasn't. I wasn't running away at all. Ryan thought I was still angry and upset about Nash leaving. I wasn't. I'd been over that for a long time. What Ryan didn't understand was how much I had learned and changed in the last year.
Yes, I had a hard time when Nash disappeared. I had a lot of questions. I spent a lot of time that first month trying to figure out what happened. Nothing made sense. Last I'd talked to Nash, things were good between us. Better than good. They were the best they'd ever been.
I remember flying into Eugene then rushing off to Cam's baby shower. She knew Nash was flying in and I wouldn't be staying long. She'd actually encouraged me to go. At that point, no one in my family knew that things had become pretty official between us, no one except Cam. If she could trust me with the news of getting pregnant, I could trust her with Nash.
When I came back from the bathroom in time to say goodbye, Abby asked me where Nash was. I glanced at my watch. "Probably at his Dad's. I'm actually getting ready to head over there right now to surprise him."
"What?" Abby frowned, confused. "He's here. I just talked to him by the patio door ten minutes ago."
Excited, I took off to look for him. I walked every inch of the house, garage, and yard. I even went to the cottage in case he was there. When I didn't find him anywhere, I leaned against the kitchen counter and called him on the phone. I couldn't wait to see him.
A second later Ryan came around the corner holding Nash's phone. He had an incoming call with my name and picture. I grabbed the phone from Ryan, so confused. "He was here?"
Ryan shrugged. "So Abby says. I haven't seen him though."
"I'm going to stop by his Dad's house. I'll see you later." I pocketed the phone and left.
He wasn't at his Dad's. In fact, his dad was just as confused as I was because he'd dropped Nash off at Lon's earlier and hadn't heard from him since.
"He was there," I told him. "I didn't get a chance to see him before he left, but he left his phone." I pulled the phone out and handed it over.
His dad pushed it back. "You keep it. He'll be calling it soon and I'm sure he'd rather you answer than me. If for some reason I see him, I'll have him call you."
I could tell Mr. Cushman was worried but he also knew his son was an adult and that was enough to calm his nerves. I left and drove through town. I was so worried about Nash. I tried to figure out what could've happened that made him leave before saying hi or bye for that matter. It had to be serious.
I practically chewed my thumb nail off on the way home. I waited for him to either call me or his phone but neither happened.
I didn't sleep that night. I didn't sleep much at all after that.
Nash was literally gone.
It was three days of pure anxiety and panic before I realized he was fine. I stopped by his Dad's house when I still hadn't heard anything. He was incredibly awkward when he answered the door.
Oh, yeah, he did stop by. He hasn't called you yet? Hmm, strange. I know he's been busy with a bunch of stuff.
Turns out Nash was fine. Clearly
we
weren't fine and I had no clue why.
One day I got a text from Logan asking where I was, that I needed to drive through town—past thirty-second street—pronto.
When I saw Nash running down the road like it was just any old Tuesday, I lost a bit of my shit. My brain was rolling so fast I didn't know what to do. I pulled off the road and waited. I just needed to know.
The look of pure hurt and anger in his eyes when he saw me stopped me in my tracks. I was still upset that he'd ghosted me, but I couldn't understand why he felt the way he did toward me.
Cam.
He was upset because I didn't tell him about Cam. Which I would've understood if it had been any of his business. To be completely honest, I would have thrown Cam's trust to the wind if I'd known how upset Nash would be. I would've told him before he left for Thailand. I would've told him the second Cam told me. Hell, I would've paused her mid crying confession—called Nash, put him on speaker phone, then let Cam tell both of us at the same time.
When he left me on the side of the highway, I was still pissed though. And I was pissed every time I saw him after that. Then I was pissed when I didn't see him anymore.
The cookie didn't crumble the way I wanted to but it crumbled nonetheless.
Nash's leaving taught me a lot. He was a tide to me. In high school, Nash was a tsunami. He was so big and powerful in my head that he overwhelmed me. That impact left a big impression, one that was hard to shake. He was perfection in everything he did and who he was and what he strived to be. He lived above reproach; as a freshman and all the years that followed.
After he and Lee married, the tide went out. The feelings were still there, the sand was wet, but I was busy with my own stuff so he was
out of sight, out of mind
. Every few years the tide would come in. I'd run into him at one function or another. We didn't even have to talk, just being around him for the evening was enough to cause a change of tide.
My family, assuming they were being helpful, would show me videos and posts he put online. It hurt but it also only ever made him shine brighter.
Then the tide would recede.
When the tide was low, I was so sure I was over him. Sometimes I was sad about it, other times I felt relieved. But I was over him—until it changed again.
The thing that remained constant was how I viewed him. He was perfect. I think the reason I had such a hard time letting go was because of how much I respected him. He chose to live a top-shelf life. It couldn't have been easy but he did it and I envied that about him.
I don't think I ever viewed Nash as a flawed person until he left. The shattering of his illusion made the blow of his loss even worse. It also made his leaving easier. It was a hell of a lot easier to get over someone who wasn't a God in my mind. Instead, he was a fucking asshole.
Fuck Nash.
My family didn't believe I was over him. But I was. The tide was gone—so low the sand wasn't even wet anymore. I didn't blame them for rolling their eyes behind my back. So many years they watched me get rollercoaster sick over him. It was a long drawn out version of picking daisy petals;
I love him, I love him not.
I told everyone to let it go. I was tired of their pity eyes and pity dinners. I was traveling on occasion if a good welding contract came through but mostly, I was focusing on things I wanted to focus on. I was building my business; expanding into neighboring towns. I was even dating, kind of.
For the first time in a long time I was doing things for me. I wasn't traveling for work to escape my personal life, I wasn't sticking around to appease my family, I wasn't doing anything for anyone else. Some of my personal investments may have failed miserably, but investing in one's self is always a win.
"You should really come to dinner. It's been a while," Ryan pressed.
"It's been a week."
He took another calming breath. I could practically see him run his tongue across his teeth the way he always did when he was reeling himself in. "You've been extra bitchy lately. Just fucking text him back already."
I stopped what I was doing and faced him. "I told you before. There's nothing to text."
"Except there is. He asked you to meet for coffee. He wants to hash things out."
"I wanted to hash everything out a year ago," I reminded him. "Now there's nothing left to hash out. He jumped to a pretty wild conclusion then cut me out of his life. I got over him, which was a big fucking relief. So, boom, unhashed." I smiled when I heard him inhale and exhale again. I loved that I could still rile him up after all these years. A weird brother quirk, I guess.
"Then tell him that. Meet with him and tell him how big of a douche was and how over him you are."
"What's the point?" I asked. "What difference will that make?"
"You can get it off your chest."
"I don't have anything on my chest," I said, firmly.
