Dashed.

Call no man foe, but never love a stranger. ~Stella Benson

New Jake is kicking at the smaller rocks along the water while I stay within reach and scowl at him. I am allowed to come down to the beach but only if I bring someone with me who can swim. Lovely. New Jake volunteered and when pressed to explain his eagerness he produced a pack of cigarettes and explained sheepishly that he is down to two a day. Two is good, he points out and so I am given the all-clear and now he is hellbent on ruining my daily inspection for beach glass with all the kicking and rearranging of the shoreline. Low tide doesn't match any convenient hours for me lately so every piece I find is an absolute marvel.

(I warned you it takes very little to entertain me but you persist in your skepticism. Why?)

He laughs and take a drag. He doesn't like you, he says and lifts his head up to check the angle of the sun.

Who doesn't like me? I am coy. I know the answer but it will be interesting to hear an outsider's perspective.

Garland.

I turn and beat my head repeatedly against New Jake's shoulder. He doesn't budge. I know, I wail briefly and he laughs again and puts his arm up around me and rubs my back consolingly.

It's okay, Bridget. Maybe he will warm up.

He leaves tomorrow, if he hasn't warmed up by now he's not going to. Besides, I don't think I like him either. I pull my fingers up over my mouth in surprise. Not sure I've ever met a man I didn't like, much less a friend of Jacob's.

So the world can rest easy now knowing I'm not charming another man to the breakfast table nor am I adding another character to the cast here. Therefore no description is required and no words will be spent. August has given up trying to force things and Garland leaves tomorrow. They did go out and tour the city and have a great time catching up so all is not lost, it just has so very little to do with me.

Maybe someday he'll come back or when I go to Newfoundland we can find some sort of common ground but that's far off in the future because he hates to travel and I hate to be around someone I make uncomfortable. I might be a little monster but if you ask for space you're going to get it.

I reach into New Jake's pocket and pull out his cigarettes, taking one out and replacing the pack. He raises his eyebrows and holds out his zippo to light it for me. I take a drag and then hold the cigarette out in front of me as if it's something I've never seen before. The familiar throb behind my eyes begins in earnest.

I thought cigarettes give you headaches, he reminds me.

They do. The pain will be a nice distraction, I tell him and turn back to my search for treasure. The sun is warm on the top of my head, and this is the purest form of Lochlan's Win some, lose some lesson that he used to try to make me understand back in the day when I thought I could conquer the world instead of merely surviving it.

Goodbye, Garland, and thanks for at least being honest. I didn't kill your friend though, he killed me. And there is no place on a ghost one which you can lay blame, it just slides off and falls to the floor every last time. Trust me, I've tried.