Anxious Hart

July 1997 “Bo! Get back here!” Tripping in the sand, I raced after my grandfather’s fishing partner, Bo, as he raced up the beach. Regaining my footing, I avoided falling face first into a rotting log. Bo was a Golden retriever. A very energetic, four-year-old Golden retriever who needed a walk this morning. So in an attempt to get out of the crowded house and away from the dreary mood, I volunteered to exercise Grandpa’s furry companion. After all, they say no good deed goes unpunished. At this point, Bo was easily a good 100 yards in front of me, his leash trailing in the sand behind him. He was chasing seagulls and barking at the waves as he occasionally looked back to make sure I was still playing his game. Forcing my wobbling legs to keep going, my lungs were beginning to burn. Squinting my eyes against the morning sun, I could see that the rust-colored dog was gleefully bounding towards another person standing on the shoreline. Mentally I recalled the motivational cheers of my track coach, pulling out any fight left in my thirteen-year-old legs to get to Bo before he attacked this unsuspecting pedestrian with his tongue. I called out in my raspy, winded voice, “Bo! Don’t jump! Come here!” As I drew closer to the figure, I was surprised to see that Bo actually stopped and politely sat, respectfully waiting for attention from the stranger. The figure began petting him, rewarding his good behavior. As I came to a stop before Bo and his newfound friend, I finally took a moment to look at the person wrestling with the energetic Golden. He was easily my age, maybe a year older with an athletic build to him. He had light brown hair that was a little shaggy and an incredible smile. I noticed that his skin was a deep bronze for early May, making me wonder if he was really from around the area with the cool weather. But what caught my attention were his eyes. They were a gorgeous ocean blue. Just as he laughed with Bo as they wrestled and played, the sparkle in those blue eyes were magical. I knew I could get lost in them so easily and be perfectly happy. I stood above the duo for a few moments, just watching them play like old friends. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tilted my head to the side and raised an eyebrow when the boy’s eyes met mine, finally realizing he was being watched. Jumping to his feet, he quickly dusted the sand off his clothes. He then ran his hands awkwardly through his messy hair, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” “That’s perfectly fine,” I giggled, amused by his bashful reaction. “Is he a friend of yours?” I quickly grabbed Bo’s leash before he had a chance to make another getaway. The boy straightened to his full height, standing a few inches taller than me. His gorgeous gaze focused on my hazel eyes for a few moments before a small smile crossed his face. “No, we just met.” Smiling back, I tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear with a small nod. I extended my hand. “I’m Claire Hart, and this furry runaway is Bo.” “Zack Perrin,” he responded as took my hand, a warm smile extending across his face. We stood for a moment, just looking at each other, only the sounds of the beach surrounding us. I could not help but notice how my hand seemed to fit perfectly with his, like two pieces of a puzzle. His touch was soft and soothing on my skin, but I also felt the slightest current of energy pass through my arm with his grasp. It was comforting, familiar, yet new all at once. It was a few seconds before Zack let go of my hand. As soon as he did, I felt a wave of disappointment cross through my chest. I could not explain this new sensation. It was like that fresh breath of air after diving too deep-necessary, vital, yet thrilling. Clearing his throat, Zack eyed the beach leading back towards my house. “Do you mind if I walk with you for a while?” I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment before nodding. “I suppose that would be ok. You look too young to be a serial killer.” He laughed as he nudged me playfully. “It’s my innocent face, isn’t it?” he joked as he batted his dark eyelashes at me. “Sure, we can go with that,” I teased in return. We fell in step with one another along the sunny shoreline, Bo cooperatively keeping in pace with us. Honestly, Zack was a welcome face in this town. I didn’t know his story, but I despised the other kids here. I needed someone new with a pulse who could hold a conversation. This area was saturated with spoiled brats and spineless yuppies, at least in my age group. While I did have a few friends, I was far from popular in the community. I was more of the nerdy type and preferred to keep my social circle small. Cliques and gossip were not something I enjoyed, especially now that I knew this next year, I would likely be the source of plenty of talk. “Hart,” he mulled over my last name. “My parents said one of our neighbors are the Harts.” I smiled at him. “Guess you’re going to be my new neighbor. I’ve always loved that house. It’s nice.” I remembered my grandparents said a new family would be moving in soon to the house just up the hill from our home. We continued to walk for a few more moments in silence. I noticed that Zack looked slightly uncomfortable out of the corner of my eye. I watched as he furrowed his brow. I could tell he wanted to say more, but he was hesitant. “Something wrong?” I asked. He opened his mouth wanting to say something, but decided against it. Instead, he gave me a tight-lipped smile and buried his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he flicked the sand with the toe of his shoe. “You can say it,” I urged. “I don’t want to upset you.” I stopped walking. Zack stopped as well. Turning to face him, I looked into those ocean blue eyes with a sad smile on my face. “Were you going to ask me if it was true about my parents?” Zack was quiet, but a sadness crossed his face. I could see by his silence that he fully understood what I meant. “Yes, it is. They were killed by a drunk driver three weeks ago on their Harley. Now it’s just me and my grandparents.” With a small shrug I sat in the sand, pulling at the frayed hem of my cutoff shorts. The tears were burning my eyes as I felt the words begin to pour from my mouth. “I’m thirteen. I still needed them. But instead, I have a house full of people related to me by blood who don’t give a s**t about me. They don’t know s**t about me. One aunt wants to take me shopping, another wants to give me all the motherly advice my own mom never will, while my uncle wants me to pull his finger and all I want to do is run away. The only two people who do know me are my grandparents, but they tell me to act civil to these people because they are my family, even though their very presence is killing my soul. The only people who are relatable are the guys who were in Dad’s biker club. At least they know me, they care about me. So, Grandpa says ‘Take Bo for a walk’ and a walk turns into a cross-country marathon.” Tears begin to stream down my cheeks in hot streams. I bury my face in my knees, miserable, embarrassed, and ashamed. Without any hesitation, Zack sat next to me in the sand, taking my hand in his. “My grandparents died last year. Pancreatic cancer. Both of them. One day they were here, happy and full of life. My grandpa got sick first and went so fast, within a couple months of his diagnosis. I remember my grandma was such a mess. We barely had time to grieve his passing when we discovered she was sick too. I don’t know if it was the worry or heartache that wore her down. It was horrible.” I examined the pain on his face as he told me about his loss. It was still fresh and sensitive to him, yet a small part appreciated the fact he shared something so personal with me. “That is so terrible, Zack. I am so sorry that you went through that, so sorry you lost them both.” He nodded, lost in his thoughts for a moment. “Was that why you moved here?” He nodded again, finally turning to face me. I could see that his eyes were filling with tears that he was trying to shrug away. “I guess it’s still hard, you know? My parents work at the hospital, so I was always with my grandparents. But after they died, I really didn’t have anyone.” I scooted closer to Zack, still holding his hand. Fresh tears were beginning to form in my eyes again as we sat there, just supporting each other. My tears were for Zack, his grandparents, my parents, and my pain. Even a year later after all his loss, this poor boy was still lost and alone in the world. “You have me now, Zack,” I whispered. “Let me be here for you.” He pulled me into his chest, cradling my face as we both cried. I feel the pads of his thumb softly wipe my tears, his hand smoothed my hair and gently rubbed my back. “I’m so sorry about your parents, Claire,” he whispered. “I’ll be here for you, too.” Wrapping my arms around him, I closed my eyes, finally finding the first moments of peace since my parents’ passing. Yes, he may have been a stranger only moments ago, but in my heart, I believed him. He had my trust instantly. In that moment, Zack gave me a gift that no one else could deliver. He was my sanctuary, my friend, my true solace. And it was forever.