Four ~ Gratitude

The town was small, but a nice small—quaint and intimate. Although it wouldn't provide much entertainment, it was pleasant enough to explore.

I glanced into each shop window I passed, pausing in the middle of the pavement when I noticed a girl working at an opticians. The prospect of people my age living in this town filled me with hope; it was pathetic to feel sorry for myself if there was a way to improve my time here.

Biting the bullet, I headed inside and browsed the sunglasses. The conversation with the lifeguard sprung to my mind, and I squirmed, not happy that I still hadn't thanked him properly. A thought occurred to me, and I sidestepped towards the glasses for men, examining the selection of Ray-Bans.

"Can I help you?"

The girl offered me a friendly smile as I stood with my fingers poised over a pair of aviators.

"Maybe in a moment." I returned her smile.

"Sure. You're the British girl, right?"

Taken aback, I let my hand drop to my side. How did she know that? Did she know my mother? Had word already spread that new people had arrived in town?

"Brent told me about you," she added.

"Brent?" I asked.

"Yeah, he works at the beach as a lifeguard. He mentioned he'd met you."

"Oh," I said, embarrassed at what he could have told her. "I don't think he gave me his name."

She laughed, and I glanced at the nametag pinned to her shirt. Mia.

"Well, he's not a man of many words. It's exciting to have a new face around here, anyway," she said.

"It's good to meet you, as well. I don't think I made the best impression with... Brent."

She waved her hand behind her head as if to dismiss my concern. "Don't mind him. He can be moody sometimes."

If Brent had mentioned me, I couldn't imagine he'd sung my praises. This might not be Carringham, where everyone has a different agenda, but I couldn't assume friendships here were simple, either.

Mia seemed nice, with her sweet smile and sparkling blue eyes, so perhaps she genuinely was a kind-hearted girl ready to offer some friendship. But when had that ever been the case? When had someone offered me something without a reason?

"Can I help with the glasses?" she asked, and I realised I'd been silent for longer than intended. Her friendly manner hadn't faltered, though, and she seemed just as eager to assist.

"I don't know... It's difficult to buy for boys when they're not here to try on, isn't it?"

"If you're not sure on the style, I'd suggest this pair—" she said, before cutting herself off with her hand still outstretched towards the stand. She glanced at me. "Sorry, I should have asked... What's your budget?"

At that point, I guessed exactly what Brent had said. Extravagant vacation. Beach-side house. Expensive sunglasses.

Mia admitting that Brent had gossiped about my money wouldn't be tactful in the slightest, especially when she'd no doubt been trained to ask about a budget. Unfortunately, now I had to say out loud that I didn't have one.

"No." I forced a smile. "I've looked at the prices and they're all within my budget."

"Okay, perfect." She removed her original choice from the stand, handing them to me. "These suit most faces. If he doesn't like them, you can bring them back for an exchange or refund."

I nodded, turning them around in my hands. If Brent took it the wrong way, it wouldn't surprise me, but I hoped he'd at least be appreciative.

"Thanks. I'll take them."

"Great." She beamed. "I'll package them up for you."

As she found the box for the sunglasses, she also took my number and promised to get in touch with details of any local parties. She assured me that her group of friends were a welcoming bunch who always made their own entertainment to combat the otherwise lack of things to do here.

When I left the shop, I felt positive for the first time since arriving, and it was a welcome feeling.

~~~

The afternoon sun sat deep in the sky when I ventured to the beach later that day. Even though Brent couldn't spend all hours there, I had yet to go and him not be present, either sitting in his lifeguard seat or strolling along the shore.

I was nervous, an emotion both familiar and foreign to me. Whilst I'd learnt to mask nerves over the years and put on a brave face, there'd been a point in my life when every day brought me anxiety.

As I marched across the sand, those same anxieties washed over me, my thudding heart propelling them through my veins. I had no reason to be nervous. This boy meant nothing to me; I didn't know him, and in a few months I'd never see him again. People who are insignificant to your future shouldn't have an impact on your present.

But he did.

Maybe because he'd been the first person to express his anger openly towards me—whether irrational or not. Maybe because he'd just been rude in general. Maybe because he'd made unfair judgements about me, based on a life he knew nothing about.

I was used to being respected and spoken to politely. Of course, I was very much aware that people moaned, judged and bitched about me behind my back, but face-to-face, a certain social etiquette was always upheld.

As expected, I found Brent sitting in his chair, looking out into the sea with his eyes flickering across the horizon. Upon noticing my approach, he glanced down at me, tearing his gaze away from the ocean for a mere second or two.

"Have you got a minute?" I shielded my eyes from the sun as I craned my neck to peer up at him.

He seemed torn between monitoring the ocean and giving me his attention, but he eventually rose from his seat and descended the wooden steps, bypassing the last few by jumping down when he was a metre or so from the sand.

"What's up?" he asked, his voice low but calm.

Rather than handing over the gift right away—I wanted to avoid any potential confrontation for as long as possible—I grappled for something to say that could lead to some common ground.

"I met one of your friends today."

He ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair that was slightly damp and glistening in the sun. As he did so, he glanced towards the ocean. I wasn't sure if it was a subconscious sign of awkwardness or an automatic reflex that came with being a lifeguard.

"Yeah," he said. "Mia. She told me."

I nodded. "She seems nice."

He shrugged, his broad shoulders raising ever so slightly in indifference as his eyes flickered, once again, across the ocean. "She is."

While not being rude, he still wasn't making much of an effort with the conversation. I'd offended him with my apparent lack of gratitude, but he'd been offensive towards me, too, and yet I was trying to build bridges.

"It's good to meet other people my age around here because..."

I trailed off when, for the third time, Brent looked at the ocean. Whether motivated by awkwardness or lifeguarding instinct, he could at least have the decency to look at me when I spoke to him.

Frustrated, I grasped his upper arm to divert his attention back to me. "Nobody's in the water."

My small hand came nowhere close to stretching around his huge bicep. If he hadn't pissed me off, I might have been impressed at how his muscular build daunted me—perhaps even attracted—but my mind only focused on his attitude.

"It's my job." His voice remained calm as his eyebrows rose in a warning manner.

"Can't you take two minutes off?"

"It's not the kind of job where you take time off," he said, much firmer. "People don't wait for a convenient time to drown. If they did, you would've waited until there was a lifeguard present before getting sucked out by a rip current."

I realised my fingers were still clutching his arm, and I quickly let go. He glanced down at where my hand had been, but only for a moment. Then he folded his arms, causing his chest and shoulders to appear even broader than before.

Perhaps he could tell his size intimidated me, or he was just used to flaunting his physique to get people to back down. Either way, it was distracting.

The boys at home looked after themselves and went to the gym, but mainly to stay in shape. This guy clearly worked out to build muscle, probably to ensure he remained capable of rescuing struggling swimmers and fighting against strong currents, just like he'd done last week. His body oozed power, but a different kind to what I was used to.

Deciding that we'd already fallen down our usual slippery slope of hostility, I chose to hand over the gift and accept whatever torrent of abuse he threw at me.

"I got this for you," I said, extending the rectangular box towards him. "It's to say thank you. And sorry."

Brent glanced at the box, his eyes wary, before taking it. Whether it was my outburst or the gift throwing him off-guard, the water no longer distracted him.

Without saying a word, he removed the lid. His gaze locked onto the Ray-Bans, but his face remained expressionless. Torturous seconds passed as my throat tightened in anticipation.

Eventually, Brent replaced the lid and lifted his eyes to meet mine. "Maybe where you come from, you can buy people out. You can't do that with me. I don't want your gratitude or your apologies if this is all they mean to you." He gestured towards the box.

"That wasn't why I—"

"Money doesn't solve all problems," he said. eyes narrowing. "Money creates problems."

"You're right. Money does create problems, but people crave it, anyway. I've never craved it, and yet it still creates problems because people like you judge me for having it."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't crave it, but you're happy to splash it about by buying me an expensive thank you gift?"

"Because I don't give a damn about the value of money, okay? I don't choose how wealthy I am, so it's not fair to judge me for it. I bought you those glasses because you hinted you wouldn't be able to buy them yourself, so I thought you'd appreciate them more than me."

He said nothing, but his glaring eyes remained fixed on mine. Locked there, I was no longer preoccupied with his body, but instead unable to tear my gaze away from his. I wanted him to believe me, but his defensive guard made it impossible to decipher his thoughts.

"And besides," I said, more calmly this time. "You watch the ocean all day. You need to protect your eyes, so I thought I'd get you a decent pair. No doubt they're something you value highly."

Finally, he sighed and broke our intense stare. With the eye contact lost, I was released from the trance that had imprisoned me. His deep sigh drew my attention back to his muscular torso as his chest rose with the intake of air.

"I do value sunglasses," he said. "Let's hope I look after my Ray-Bans better than you look after yours."

I offered him a small smile, relieved that we'd reached some kind of truce. "I'm sure you will."

"You and I are from different worlds," he told me. "Don't take this the wrong way, but people like you are hard to like."

Not a truce, then.

"How can I not take that the wrong way?"

He shrugged. "You can't please everyone."

"I'm trying to get along with you," I said, my eyes widening. "You're not making it easy for me."

"Some things don't come easily," he said, his voice infuriatingly matter-of-fact. "You're right; I do value money because I've never had much of it. You apparently have too much to contemplate, and the only reason I'm accepting these is because I believe that. You could have picked up a pair for a dollar and it would've made the same impact on your bank account."

Even when he'd climbed back into the chair, I didn't move from where I stood, trying to decide if I was angry or sad.

Money did create problems. It created fickle friendships, an undesirable life in the spotlight, a pressure to maintain a proper reputation, and a sense of emptiness from lacking the simple pleasures that others took for granted.

I'd never know the excitement of saving up to buy my first car or house, nor the pride of getting good results and being rewarded with a gift. I'd never experience the pure delight of my boyfriend spending his hard-earned cash on me instead of himself. Money only meant something when true value was attached to it.

"My name's Rosalie," I called up to him. "At least now you know something about me."

Then I headed back towards the house, ready to spend another evening listening to my mum prattle on about a topic that didn't interest me or soaking up my loneliness.

Like money, friends meant nothing if they brought no value to your life, and mine certainly didn't.

~~~

Thank you for reading :) xx

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