Letting Go (Chapter-4)

Serena

Despite the steady breeze from the ocean, the sun’s heat made Serena feel lightheaded as she walked down the pier to the sidewalk. She pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open, pressing the power button as she walked toward her car parked several blocks away.

“Damn it,” Serena said under her breath. Her phone was out of battery. Of course. She’d have to use her spare charger, kept in the glove compartment of her car, and stop at a cafe to charge it before driving home.

As Serena walked her stomach growled vigorously and her throat craved the cool stream of a chilled soda. She stopped at the nearest restaurant and paused at its entrance. The stench emanating from her armpits, back, and the waistband was overwhelming. If it weren’t for the heat and intense pangs of hunger she would have kept walking - but the idea of food and an air-conditioned room seemed more and more like a luxury.

The restaurant was busier than Serena had hoped. Nearly every table was filled except a few empty seats at the bar and a small table in the far right corner near the kitchen. The host, a man dressed in a sky-blue button-down, stood behind a wooden podium and smiled as she approached.

“Welcome to the Ivory Shore Bistro! How many for you today?”

“Just one, thanks.”

“Great, one moment,” he said, crouching behind the podium to grab a menu.

“Actually,” Serena added hastily, “can I get something to go instead? Sorry -” She’d realized, after looking at the families and couples filling the restaurant, that in addition to being covered in sweat and sand, she was incredibly underdressed.

“No problem at all, ma’am, here’s the menu” he responded, passing along a rectangular laminated sheet of paper, “the soup of the day is tomato bisque.”

“Thanks so much.” Serena scoured the menu and ordered the cheapest items listed - a Coke, a small Caesar salad, and fries. After her food was delivered and paid for she exited the Ivory Shore Bistro and walked briskly down the sidewalk toward her car.

Cafe Lulu was about a mile from the onramp to the freeway. A majority of its clientele was lost to a new coffee shop across the street, so when Serena pulled up it was nearly empty. From the outside, it looked like a generic coffee house. Built on a corner beside a strip of restaurants, it had a large glass window with Cafe Lulu painted in brown italics across it, a swinging glass door with its hours printed beside the handle, and two sets of white round tables and chairs in front. It was the inside that made it unique, with brown painted walls covered by paintings of local artists illustrating the pier, ocean, or mountains lining the coast. Only three small light fixtures hung from the ceiling, bringing just enough light to offer a calming atmosphere. When Serena walked in she saw only one other man there, sitting at a small table alone in the most unlit corner of the shop. She walked up to the counter, ordered a small cafe latte, and sat in a large green chair placed next to an outlet.

As she waited for her phone to start up again, Serena sipped her coffee and gazed at the paintings on the wall behind her - a high tide at sunset, a purple-hued seashell, a small child playing in the sand - all drastically different, yet perfectly paired with the paintings beside them.

She stopped at the one that depicted a mountain range lining the Santa Monica coast. Her parents used to take her to mountains like these when she was young, tying her shoes with double knots, coating her skin with multiple layers of sunscreen, and securing a sun hat around her blonde ponytail. Her father would let her run ahead on the trail as he walked behind with her mother and Jilliana. She wouldn’t allow too much distance between them - the rule was that if she looked back she’d have to be able to see the red laces on her father’s hiking shoes, or she’d gone too far. But it was freeing nonetheless, running where no one could hear her breathe or sing softly to herself. There were times when Serena had wished she’d never experienced such freedom - it would have made it easier when her parents took it away years later - but these nostalgic moments brought a joy unsurpassed by any other childhood memory.

It was then that her phone started beeping. And beeping. And beeping. She was surprised at this. People from work rarely contacted her on the weekends, and the only people who would typically call or text were her parents. She sank into the green cushioned chair, pulled the top of her flip phone open, and watched the notifications pop up on the screen.

Five missed calls. Three voicemails. Two text messages. Her pulse quickened. Three of the calls were from her mom’s cell, and two were from a number she didn’t recognize. The first voicemail was left by an unknown number. Her mom had sent both text messages and the two remaining voicemails. She opened the texts first.

Mom Cell: received at 3:37: Honey, where are you? Call me.

Mom Cell received at 4:08: Are you okay?! Call me back, please!

Serena quickly dialed her mom’s number, afraid that something had happened. After only two rings her mother answered, slurring her words together as she spoke:

“Honey, honey are you okay?”

“Yes, yes mom. I’m fine. What’s going on? Are you and dad alright?”

“Yes, why haven’t you been answering your phone?!”

“It’s been out of battery, I’m so sorry. I just charged it. I’m fine.”

Serena let out a heavy breath in annoyance, assuming her mom was being overprotective, just calling to check-in.

“Mom, I’m really fine. We don’t have power right now so I couldn’t charge my pho--”

“Serena,” her mom interrupted, “Agent Nancy Keene called.”

Serena’s breath stopped. Her body went cold and a nauseating pain hit her stomach. She put the phone down for a moment on the chair, rested her elbows on her knees, and let her head fall forward as she gathered her breath. Her mom remained cold on the other end, waiting patiently for a reply.

After nearly a minute of sitting still, she picked up the phone. “What did Agent Keene say?” She heard her mom take a deep breath on the other end. “Why don’t you drive home and we’ll talk about it.”

Serena responded with more urgency, “What did she say, mom?”

Another pause. “Listen to your messages honey, and give me a call back right away. I’ll be waiting by my phone.”

Serena kept her gaze down, watching her ribcage rise and fall with each breath. “Okay. I love you, mom.”

“I love you, too. So much.”

Serena hung up, clicked on the voicemail icon, and scrolled to the number beginning with 323. Even before the phone was pressed against her ear, the nightmares she had pushed deep into her memory began to resurface, and as the recording played she could remember that same voice speaking to her for the first time 15 years ago. She had worn a blue dress that day, one that her mom said highlighted her eyes, and a brand-new pair of white lace-up sneakers. She remembered sitting on the purple sofa, hearing but not truly listening, while her parents did most of the talking. Instead, her attention was outside, through the living room window, where she could see her neighbors from across the street. There were three of them, two boys and one girl, playing barefoot on the lawn. Though Serena was the topic of conversation that afternoon with Agent Keene, all she recalled thinking about was how much she wanted to join them, and how she’d have to change out of her dress so it wouldn’t get stained by the wet grass.