Heat Wave(25)

She giggles, brushing her brown hair out of her eyes. “Look, the next time you send me a picture of a cock, I hope it's not of the feathered variety.” I roll my eyes. “Besides, telling me you've safely landed is not texting me. You were supposed to fill me in.” Pause. “How's Logan?”

“Fine,” I say dismissively. “Hey, look where I am.” I bring the phone up and slowly bring it around me in a circle, aiming at the scenery.

“Seriously?” Claire's voice crackles until I bring the phone back to me. “And you said you didn't want to go.”

“I didn't!” I tell her. “And I still don't want to be here.”

Claire is the only person who knows the truth about everything. She knows how Logan and I met. She knows that he cheated on Juliet with God knows who. She knows why I was fired from my last job. She knows that I had no choice but to come out here. She knows everything. Yet another reason why I'm already missing her.

“Well I'm sure waking up to paradise every day will eventually start to wear your cynicism down.”

“Cynicism?”

“You know what I mean, Ron. It could be worse. Everything can always be worse.”

That's the other thing about Claire. She takes no crap. That might be why I like Kate, they're both similar in that way. There's only so much “boo hoo I'm moving to Hawaii” Claire can handle, even if she knows the truth.

“Right,” I say. “Well anyway, now you get to come with me on my walk back to the hotel. If the reception cuts out I'll try and call you back later. There's no TV or landlines at the hotel you know, but at least the internet somewhat works.”

“I think that's charming. Makes you get out there and enjoy the outdoors. How is the hotel anyway?”

I explain to her the gist of it all, from the layout and the restaurant to the sleeping arrangements and the staff.

“So it wasn't weird when you saw Logan?”

I swallow, wishing she wasn't staring at my face and studying it. Fuck Facetime. “Um, well it was weird. Yeah.”

“Did you talk about Juliet?” she asks softly. Claire always softens her voice when she mentions her name. I think it’s because she's still not sure how I'm going to react.

“In passing,” I say, then cringe at the poor choice of words. “I mean, she came up but indirectly.”

“Did you see where . . . it happened? The crash site?”

That was one of the things I was trying not to look for. I knew it happened near the hotel but I wasn't sure where. “I closed my eyes for some of the ride over,” I admit. “I don't know if I passed it or not. I'm not sure I want to see it, actually.”

“Fair enough. God, sorry Ron. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you now that you’re finally there.”

Claire knows I was never close with my sister but she also knows how badly I wanted to be. How I lost that chance for good.

“Yeah well, I'm just going to take it day by day. Everyone here talks about Juliet like, well, like everyone else does at home. So I suppose that's a good thing. She wasn't just this amazing person in Chicago, she was the same amazing person here.”

Claire falls silent, her brows furrowing as she thinks that over. “Are you going to talk to Logan about what you know?” she finally asks.

I sigh, looking up from the phone just as I round the bend and see the hotel creep into sight.

“I don't see the point,” I tell her. “What's done is done.”

“Well it might clue him into why you hate him so much.”

“I'm sure he knows why. I don't have to say anything. He knows what he did. And he's probably always known that Juliet told me. That's why he's been a dick ever since then.”

“Are you sure he hasn't been a dick because you've been a dick?”

I glare at her, hoping it comes through the screen. “Claire,” I warn her before switching the subject. I start showing her the hotel as I get closer and eventually we end the phone call with me sitting out on the beach, right in front of the restaurant.

“I better go,” she says. “Break a leg tonight.”

I can't help but yawn, a wave of fatigue washing over me. Maybe such a strenuous walk wasn't the best idea when jetlagged and on minimal food. I'm used to eating a lot more than this.

“Break a leg,” I scoff. “You know how many times that's nearly happened to me in the kitchen? Wet floors are no joke.”

She laughs. “Then bring a mop. I love you. Talk to you later.”

“Love you,” I tell her, my words coming out almost in a whisper as the connection is severed.

Even though I know I'll get sand everywhere, I lay back on the beach, my phone resting on my chest.