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Another sheet of paper ended up in Elliott’s fist. With a sigh, he crumpled it up and threw it at the bin – of course, he missed.
Words over words and still no meaning.
Nothing he wrote lately felt genuine. Shallow lines, empty verses. The problem lay deeper than a simple writer’s block. What he lacked was inspiration – a purpose to write. Something he’d never struggled with in his entire life.
A knock at the door made him drop his pen. With another wistful look at the typewriter, he got up from his desk and crossed the room to greet his unannounced visitor.
To Elliott’s surprise, he saw a face he would’ve never expected to find at his door.
“Shane?” The puzzlement in his voice was unmistakable and the moment Elliott uttered the name, he felt embarrassment creep up his neck at the impolite greeting.
Shane – dressed in a black windbreaker, dark hair spilling from his hood onto his forehead – frowned at him with his usual skepticism. “Bad time?” he asked, hands buried in his jacket pockets.
“No, not at all!” Elliott cleared his throat; he managed a smile and a polite nod. “You caught me off guard, is all. Is there something I can help you with?”
The grim lines on Shane’s forehead and around his eyes suddenly softened. He cleared his throat and it took Elliott a moment to realize his opposite was struggling to find the right words. “You’re … a writer, right? I mean, you’re good with words and stuff?”
Elliott’s lips kicked up in an amused smile. “You could say I’m quite fond of words … and stuff.”
Shane studied him for a moment, then he nodded. To see him like that was an unusual sight, indeed.
Elliott had always liked Shane, but he didn’t know him very well. They shared a similar sentiment when it came to solitude. And Elliott had always sympathized with Shane’s tendency to keep to himself. However, him showing up on his doorstep to ask him about writing was definitely not something he had ever considered.
“Right. I wanted to ask a favor,” Shane continued. “I know we don’t know each other very well but I’m working on a birthday present for Jas. Since I’m not good with words or feelings” – he grimaced – “I could use a little help writing her a card.”
“You need my help to write a birthday card for your goddaughter?”
“You know what … This was probably a stupid idea. I’m sure you’re busy with your novel. I should–”
“No, wait!” Elliott prompted, surprising himself by reaching out to Shane who was about to turn away already. “Of course, I’ll help you.”
Shane’s eyes widened. He turned back around and for the first time ever, Elliott saw Shane’s face light up with something close to joy. It was a strange contrast to the dark circles under his almost black eyes – perhaps even something to write about.
“Really?”
“Sure.” Elliott’s smile grew a little steadier. “I could use a break from my work.”
“Then let’s meet at the tavern this evening. I’ll buy you a drink and a meal,” Shane offered.
“That’s not necessary at all. I’m happy to help.”
Shane pulled a hand from his pocket to glance at his watch; the display was cracked but it seemed to be working nevertheless. “I have to go. Marnie asked me to feed the animals today and later I have to pick up Jas from Jodie’s place.” He glanced back at Elliott with a smile so out of place that it struck the writer like a tiny bolt of electricity. “Let’s meet at seven?” Shane was already walking away, waving at Elliott with one hand. “Thank you again!”
“See you later,” Elliott called after him as he watched Shane become one with the scene at the beach.
It was a stormy day, unruly yet rigid at the same time. Foreboding, almost.
He felt the sea of words wash ashore like foamy waves – not quite there yet, still out of reach. But something about this day and odd encounter made Elliott feel hopeful.
For the rest of the afternoon, he sat at his desk and scribbled away. Stray words, filling pages over pages in his notebook.
A shadow-tipped finger
Sea glass lost to pale dunes
Night pools like black rain
Waves as crisp as ice
Eyes made of coal,
Loneliness afloat like driftwood
Words lost to me, returned to others instead
A smile one with the afternoon, painted by a stranger
Footsteps, then change
But once again, all of these words landed in the bin beneath his desk. Another failed attempt at meaning.
💧
The blue garbage bag in his hand felt heavy with guilt as Shane dragged it after him to his room. Empty bottles were clinking together in treacherous noise, reminding him of another night that had been ripped from his memory. Another morning where Marnie had found him on the bedroom floor, passed out in a sweaty, beer-stained shirt.
The feeling of nausea and its accompanying headache was bad but not as bad as those thoughts that would always find him at night. When the world went quiet around him, his head roared with darkness. And there was no other way than drowning himself until he couldn’t feel it anymore.
“Uncle Shane?” A knock at the door caused Shane to turn his head and hide the clinking bag behind him (unsuccessfully).
“Hey Jas, what are you doing in here? I thought Marnie told you to stay out of my room.”
His goddaughter’s face fell; she frowned and looked at the ground, pouting. “But you told me you would go to the woods with me today. I want to show you where I saw the fairies.”
Shane cleared his throat. “Yeah … right.”
“You didn’t forget, did you?” Jas glanced up at him, her voice careful.
“No, of course not.” Shane put the garbage bag aside for a moment to walk over to his goddaughter. “You should go and get your skipping rope. I’ll meet you outside.”
Jas’s face lit up in an instant. “Can we feed the chickens together?”
Shane returned her smile with a nod, feeling his heart soften at the sight of her genuine excitement. When she looked at him like that, he nearly believed that all of his darkness would subside eventually.
💧
“Hey Elliott, didn’t expect to see you here on a Wednesday evening.” Gus was eyeing Elliott with a curious glance; he was standing behind the counter, cleaning glasses with a checkered towel.
Emily threw a look over her shoulder at the words, eyes widening once she spotted a hesitant Elliott lingering in the doorframe. “Did something happen?”
“No.” The writer frowned, hands buried in his pocket. A glance at the watch beside the bar told him that it was exactly seven o’clock. Another glance at the mostly empty tables told him that Shane wasn’t here yet.
“I … uhm, I’m meeting someone.” Elliott cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. He’d spent a good deal of time picking out his outfit and tying his hair into a casual yet elegant knot at the back of his neck, with only a few loose strands framing his face. Suddenly, his efforts seemed embarrassingly over the top.
Emily flashed a smile at him. “Don’t tell me you have a date? Could it be …” She tapped her lower lip with her index finger, pretending to think hard about her next question. “The new farmer?”
As if to answer her, the door behind Elliott swung open again and Shane stepped inside, the hood of his sweat jacket drawn into his face. When he spotted the others – who were staring at him all of a sudden – Shane uncovered his face and offered an awkward smile. “Hi guys … what’s going on here?”
Elliott noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble on his chin and cheeks and the firm line of his mouth even when he smiled. A contradicting sadness, edged in stone.
“Elliott has a date,” Gus announced with a grin.
Elliott gaze shot towards the bar owner, but it was already too late.
“Does he?” The tone of Shane’s voice drew Elliott’s attention back to him. A small smile lingered on his opposite’s lips, eyebrows raised in a challenge.
“Is that so hard to believe?” Elliott asked before he could think better of it.
Shane’s smile widened – the sight brought another tug to Elliott’s heart. How had he never truly seen this man before?
“Not at all,” Shane said in a tone Elliott couldn’t quite decipher. “Is it okay to buy you a drink? You know, while you wait.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
Shane walked towards the counter to give his order to Gus. Elliott met Emily’s eye and found another knowing smile on her lips. Before he could say anything to her, she winked at him and turned back around.
After they received their drinks, Elliott followed Shane to the table at the back of the tavern. They took a seat opposite of one another. The writer watched Shane sip at his beer but couldn’t quite catch his eyes.
Perhaps Shane was as nervous as he was? Or perhaps he was imagining things.
He cleared his throat. “So, Shane, tell me, how exactly can I help you out?”
Shane glanced up from his glass – and if Elliot didn’t know better he could’ve sworn the seemingly stern young man across from him blushed at the question.
“Jas’s birthday is coming up and I want to write her a card.” He fumbled with the cords of his jacket, studying the table in front of him. “I thought about picking one up at work, but Joja’s cards all look somewhat …”
Elliot smiled. “Dull? Unimaginative? Soulless?”
Shane looked up, a surprised expression on his face. When he saw Elliott’s smile, he swallowed one of his own. “Some might think they are.”
Elliott nodded knowingly, then took a sip from his own drink, before he said, “You chose the personal approach and want to write your own card.”
“I’m sorry if this is a waste of your time, it’s just–”
“I told you.” The writer shook his head. “I’m delighted to help out. I could use the change of scenery. Besides, I think it’s a lovely idea.”
Shane’s cheeks reddened slightly but Elliot blamed it on the beer. “I started out but it’s not good.”
That peaked Elliott’s curiosity. “Can I read it?”
“No.”
Their eyes met across the table. Shane twisted his lips, seemingly uncomfortable with Elliot’s genuine interest. “Really, it’s bad.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Elliott offered him an encouraging smile.
After a moment of hesitation, Shane pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket and dropped it on the table between them. His expression looked almost pained – perhaps from embarrassment. Elliott thought it adorable.
He took the miserable note and unfolded it slowly, feeling Shane’s gaze on him the whole time. He also noticed that the piece of paper was an old receipt from the Joja Market for three bottles of beer and a frozen pizza – on the back of it three scribbled lines in a messy handwriting:
Dear Jas,
You like chickens. And I like you.
Thanks for being born.
Elliott read the small paragraph again and again until the silence became a little awkward.
He cleared his throat, trying to hide his amusement.
“I told you, it’s bad.”
“It’s …” The writer was searching for the right words but couldn’t quite find them. “Unique.”
Shane regarded him for a moment, then burst out laughing. It was a strange sound, out of place and unusual coming from the young man with dark circles under his eyes.
Whenever Elliott had seen Shane around town or at an annual festival, he’d always kept to himself. Today was the first time that the writer had actually seen him smile, and now even laugh.
“You don’t have to sugar-coat it. I know I suck at this, I’m obviously not a writer.”
“You don’t have to be a writer to write a birthday card.”
Shane took another sip from his beer. “But it seems like I need one to help me.”
“Maybe you just need a little practice to find your voice. Jas’s birthday is the fourth day of summer, right?”
Shane nodded.
“Good, that gives us at least two weeks. That’s a lot of time for one card.”
“You really think I can do this?”
Elliott reached for his wine glass to take a sip. “You really love her, don’t you?”
The question took Shane off guard because he averted is eyes as he mumbled his agreement.
“Then, yes, of course you can do this.”
💧
For the next two evenings, Shane and Elliott met at the Stardrop Saloon to discuss Shane’s ideas. Elliott realized that it might take more time than he thought because Shane asked him several times whether Elliott would write the card for him which he declined immediately.
“It has to come from the heart,” the writer explained while tapping his chest with two fingers. “Words are most valuable when they originate from a place of true emotion.”
Shane’s answer had been a scowl and another sip from his drink.
Despite his gruff exterior, his seemingly hard shell, Elliott knew there was something else hidden beneath. Why else would he have asked for help?
As a start, the writer gave him a little homework: Shane was supposed to write about something he felt, something true and honest.
“Like putting words to a feeling,” Elliott told him.
However, the next evening, Shane didn’t show up at their usual table. Not at seven, not at eight and once the clock hit nine and the saloon came alive with laughter and chatter, Elliott gave up and went home.
On his way to the beach, he ran into Marnie, who greeted him with a hearty smile and a wave.
“Elliott, it’s so good to see you! I wanted to thank you for what you’re doing for my nephew. He’s a good kid, you know.”
Elliott offered her a polite smile, surprised about her welcoming words. He didn’t even know that Shane had told his family about their acquaintance. “I’m glad to be of help.”
Marnie nodded, then took a step closer and lowered her voice a little. “The last couple of years, Shane became a bit of a homebody. He didn’t leave the house much, except for work. This is the first year in a long time that he actually went out on his birthday. I’m sure you two had a nice day today?”
Elliott blinked at her, perplexed by the new information he’d just acquired.
His birthday? Today was Shane’s birthday?
Could that have something to do with his absence from their meeting? …
He realized that Marnie was expecting an answer from him, so he nodded and offered another smile. “Yes, a very nice day. I mean, I saw him today. Yes, I …” For God’s sake, Elliott, words! “It’s good to hear he’s doing better. And it’s very kind, what he’s doing for Jas.”
“Oh, yes. He adores her. Did he tell you what he planned for her birthday already? He wants to take her for a picnic to the woods. She loves the woods, you know. She’s always playing by the lake, that girl, always living in her own little world. Anyways, you should join us for dinner sometime. Shane told me you love crab cakes–”
“He did?”
“He told me you ordered them at the saloon two nights in a row. Maybe I can ask Gus to give me his recipe. Oh, or you could come over tomorrow afternoon for a cup of tea? I will make some cookies for us, and you can meet Jas. Yes, that sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?”
“Well … sure, why not? Thank you, Marnie.” Elliott cleared his throat, still thinking about Shane’s mysterious absence and the fact that today was his birthday. “I have to go but it was very nice to meet you.”
“Of course, don’t let me keep you. It was my pleasure.” She clutched her hands for a moment, then pulled him into a hug. “Thank you again, Elliott.” Her smile was so genuine that Elliott felt a hint of guilt creeping up his throat because he had never made an effort to get to know his neighbours while they were welcoming him with open arms.
They parted ways and Marnie offered another wave before she entered the saloon with a pleasant hum.
Elliott was left with a swirl of feelings and too many unanswered questions. His gaze found comfort in the stars and the nightly air cooled his heated cheeks.
Shane’s birthday.
He hadn’t even checked the calendar at Pierre’s … Could it really be the reason why he missed their meeting? And why had he told Marnie so much about all of this?
Why did I agree to visit them tomorrow? He scolded himself.
Socializing had never been his strong suit. He could converse with others, could keep them at a safe distance, but getting involved in someone’s life so much that the other person told their family about it? …
Elliott shook his head.
He’d known Shane for two days–
No, he didn’t know him at all.
Surely, this was all a big misunderstanding. He would find an excuse for tomorrow afternoon and keep all of this professional – as best he could. He was doing one of the villagers a favor, a neighbourly duty, nothing more and nothing less.
However, when he entered the beach and was welcomed by the familiar sound of the unruly sea, he was still thinking about Shane and his contradictory smile.
This was his favorite place in the whole world, his own little cabin close to the ocean, solitude and peace. However, when his gaze roamed the shoreline, he noticed that he wasn’t alone out here.
There in the dark, right were the waves spilled onto the wet sand, sat a figure on an overturned log. From Elliott’s spot it was just a smudge of black in the grey surroundings of night, a small, gleaming ball of orange moving up and down, spilling fine lines of smoke out into the open.
With a frown and foreboding concern growing in his chest, Elliott approached the shadow person.
He wasn’t even surprised when he saw the grey side profile of the very man he was supposed to meet over two hours ago.
When Shane turned his head to look at him, his expression was bleak – as if he’d been somewhere else entirely, only now returning to the face of the earth. Elliott couldn’t blame him for that; he had lost his thoughts to the sea many times before and had always found solace in that particular state of disorientation.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Elliott asked as the wind kept carrying his question into the tides.
Shane gestured at the empty space on the log beside him and Elliott noticed the beer bottle in his hand and a few empty ones at the side of the log.
He sat down and watched Shane take a drag from his cigarette.
For a moment, they remained silent, only the waves whispering around them.
“Sorry I missed our meeting,” Shane finally said. His voice sounded calm and steady, no trace of drunkenness recognizable.
Elliott took a breath and dared the question: “Did something happen?”
“It’s a long story.” Another sip from the beer bottle, another drag from the cigarette.
“I met Marnie earlier.”
“Great.”
“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday today.”
Shane turned to look at him; the black fabric of his jacket rustled quietly. “It’s a day like any other.”
“Is it?”
More silence. Elliott contemplated whether he should get up and leave, offer Shane a little space, but he couldn’t help but worry, too.
He knew that some people called Shane the town drunk, and Elliott had never seen him at a gathering without a drink in his hand. But it wasn’t his place to judge or even ask him about it. Everyone was battling demons, one way or the other.
Shane emptied his beer bottle and opened another one right after. “One more year of my life wasted. But it’s not like it matters, anyway.” He took a sip, then stared at his feet. “Do you ever feel like … no matter what you do, you’re gonna fail?”
Elliott frowned back at him. “Is this about Jas? About the birthday card? You’re not going to fail, Shane.”
But Shane just shook his head. “I thought about your homework, you know. About the task you gave me, to describe a feeling and write it down. But all there is is emptiness. It’s like … I’m stuck in some miserable abyss and I’m so deep I can’t even see the light of day. I just feel like no matter how hard I try, I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole.”
Elliott looked at him for a moment longer, speechless by what he’d just heard. Was that the reason why he didn’t come to the meeting?
For the first time in a very long time, Elliott caught a glimpse of a person through their words alone. Everything about Shane seemed cold, distant and somewhat dismissive but what he had revealed tonight was only the truth, Elliott was sure about it.
He fought the urge to reach out and touch Shane’s arm, to offer him whatever comfort he could spare. Then, he thought about what Marnie had told him: He didn’t leave the house much, except for work. This is the first year in a long time that he actually went out on his birthday.
His heart sank at the thought of Shane alone on his birthday, just because Elliott had given him such an insensitive task.
“I’m so sorry, Shane. I didn’t mean to hurt you in any way. I had no idea you felt that way. And on your birthday of all days, I–”
“It’s not your fault,” Shane said. “Every year on my birthday, I fall into this hole. Perhaps it reminds me that year after year passes and nothing changes. I always end up wondering why I’m still here.”
“The world can be a grim place, but it can be indescribably beautiful, too.”
Shane drank the rest of his beer and grimaced at the taste. “My liver’s begging me to stop. Better call it a night.” He got up and swayed for a second before Elliott followed to steady him.
It was a swift decision, a movement so quick and thoughtless that Elliott only realized their closeness once his arm was already wrapped around Shane’s waist.
“You should be careful around here at night,” Elliott said, grateful that Shane wouldn’t be able to see his burning cheeks in the darkness. “The sea is rough these days.”
“Whenever I look at the ocean, I feel a little better,” Shane answered, seemingly oblivious to the writer’s touch.
“I know what you mean,” Elliott said and lowered his arm again. “The waves don’t judge you. You can tell them anything.” A small smile lingered on his lips as his gaze drifted to the moonlit tides. “When I first moved to Pelican Town, the sea was my biggest comfort. Sometimes it still is.”
He noticed that Shane was looking at him and lowered his gaze. “Perhaps you should try to leave your worries here once in a while. Lighten your load.”
“Maybe.” Shane frowned as if a thought crossed his mind that he couldn’t quite comprehend. He cleared his throat. “I really should go.”
Elliott nodded. He helped to gather the empty bottles and cigarette buds and accompanied Shane towards the bridge that led back to town.
“I’m really sorry I missed the meeting,” he said again, hands buried in his pockets. “I really want to do this. For Jas. It won’t happen again.”
Elliott offered him a smile. “It’s okay.” After a second of hesitation, he added, “Listen, if you ever need to talk or if you want to see the beach by day … you’re welcome at my cabin anytime.”
“Thank you, Elliott.”
Something in the sound of his name, the sincerity of it all, tugged at the writer’s heartstrings.
They said their goodbyes and Elliott watched Shane walk along the bridge, the same shadow figure as before, as if a cloud was following him around and weighing down his every move.
“Hey, Shane!”
The figure turned to look at him and Elliott was glad that the streetlamp still reached his face. He had to take one last look at the man, one last confirmation that tonight had actually happened.
“Happy Birthday.”
Shane’s lips hinted at the faintest smile – tired, but Elliott appreciated the effort behind it. He raised his hand, held the writer’s gaze for a second longer, before he turned to continue his way home.
That same night, Elliott dreamed of sea foam and black eyes. And in that very dream, he was able to hold on to Shane a little longer, to take away his pain and feed it to the ravenous tides.
💧
At three o’clock the next day, Shane heard a knock at the front door, followed by Marnie’s voice from the kitchen: “Shane, where are you? We have a guest!”
Shane had successfully avoided to cross paths with Marnie all day. All he could muster was to take a shower and clean his room a little because Jas kept asking to play video games with him. That had cost all the energy he had saved for the day. Getting out of bed was hard enough already and his head was still roaring from last night’s drinking escapade.
He downed a few pain killers with a glass of water and left his room, already mad at anyone who had the audacity to show up on a Sunday.
I swear, if it’s Lewis again, I’m leaving immediately.
But when Shane entered Marnie’s shop, he heard a familiar voice talk to his aunt and goddaughter. If Shane hadn’t stayed sober the whole day, he would’ve blamed the scene in front of his eyes on the alcohol.
Elliott, the man who’d witnessed his embarrassing breakdown last night, was standing there, talking to Jas with one of his charming smiles. He was wearing a dark red shirt that revealed just enough of his tanned skin; and his chestnut-brown hair fell in elegant waves over his shoulders as he bent down to shake Jas’s hand. “It’s an honor to officially meet you, Jas. I’m Elliott. Shane has told me a lot about you.”
His usually shy goddaughter was beaming up at the writer. “Really? Shane told me you live at the beach. Are you a mermaid?”
Elliott chuckled warmly. Before he could answer, however, Marnie spotted Shane in the doorway. “Shane, there you are! Look who’s here!”
Elliott’s head turned and before Shane could brace himself, emerald eyes found him while a soft (and apologetic) smile spread across the writer’s lips.
“I invited Elliott for tea last night, since you two seem to get along so well.”
“Uncle Shane, can Elliott come to the lake with us later?” Jas asked with her puppy dog eyes that would always be able to melt Shane’s heart. “I want to show him my new skipping rope.”
“I’m sure there will be time for it, Jas,” Shane said as he crossed the room and gave her a pat on the head. “Will you go with Aunt Marnie for a second?”
She nodded and ran off while Marnie flashed both of them another hearty smile. “Tea will be ready in just a minute!”
Once she had left the room, Shane finally faced Elliott again. “Hey,” he said, feeling a little awkward. “Care to explain why you’re here?” He didn’t mean to make it sound harsh, but Elliott’s smile wavered for a moment.
“I apologize. I forgot to mention it last night. When I left the tavern, Marnie approached me and invited me.” Elliott averted his eyes and scratched the back of his head in a nervous gesture. “I didn’t get a chance to decline…”
So, this was Marnie’s doing, Shane thought. That made a lot of sense.
He sighed. “It’s okay. Marnie can be … persistent.”
“I’m sure she means well.”
“She wants me to get out more.” Shane crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Thinks I’m a little anti-social.”
Elliott chuckled. “You’re not the only one in town.”
Their eyes met for a moment and Shane wondered how much more there was to this man who’d been nothing more than a distant acquaintance two days ago.
He remembered his words from last night: If you ever need to talk or if you want to see the beach by day … you’re welcome at my cabin anytime.
Shane had been convinced that Elliott was helping him out of sheer pity. But last night … his offer had sounded so genuine.
Or perhaps you were too drunk to realize he actually wanted you to leave, that heinous voice in the back of his head told him. He was just being polite, just like he is now.
“You don’t have to stay,” he blurted. “Really, it’s fine. I’ll come up with something to tell Marnie and Jas–”
Elliott reached out to touch his arm. “I want to stay. Besides, I wanted to make sure you were okay after last night.”
Shane felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. Self-hatred rained down on him in an instant, telling him what a nuisance he was, how incredibly selfish it had been to talk to Elliott at all.
But the writer’s hand on his arm was a strange comfort and Shane was eternally grateful for this small gesture. He fought the urge to return the touch and finally mustered a tight smile. “I’m okay. And I’m really, really sorry.”
Elliott shook his head, then removed his hand to retrieve something from the small bag he had brought. It looked like a present, wrapped in subtle, green paper and tied with a perfectly-shaped bow. And to Shane’s utter confusion, Elliott was offering it to him with a shy smile.
“I brought you something. A belated birthday present.”
A birthday present? For him?
Shane stared at the meticulously wrapped package, then back up at Elliott. “What?”
Elliott’s cheeks suddenly turned a light shade of pink. “I thought you might like it. I read it many times when I moved to Pelican Town.”
Shane took the present, still speechless by the gesture, and started to unwrap it until he could see the cover of a slim book that read: Out at Sea – A Collection of Short Stories and Poems
“You’re giving me a book?” Shane asked incredulously as his fingers slid down the cover to flip through the pages.
“They’re about the ocean and its many secrets. Perhaps you can find a little comfort in them.”
Shane stared at the book in his hands until a lump formed in his throat.
Was this gratitude? Affection? He couldn’t quite tell.
At a loss for words, unable to put any of his feelings into sentences, he clutched the book tight and looked at Elliott. “Thank you.”
Did his voice tremble just a little bit?
If so, Elliott didn’t seem to notice. He simply smiled that cloudless smile of his and it did a weird think to Shane’s heart. “You’re welcome.”
The rest of the afternoon was filled with conversation, tea and Marnie’s homemade chocolate cookies. Shane couldn’t remember the last time he had talked this much and even Jas seemed more outgoing than usual.
After tea, she dragged Elliott into her room to show him her favorite dolls and toys, before they all went out to the lake for a small stroll.
It was a beautiful late spring day; birds sang in the swaying trees and the sunlight was already warm enough to welcome summer.
Shane noticed that Elliott was walking close to him the whole time, never straying far or leaving his side. He told him about the novels he’d been writing and the one he was currently working on. Shane told him about his job at Joja – because there was nothing more going on in his life, but Elliott seemed interested in every little detail. He asked about Jas, about his family, about how he’d come to live with Marnie, and Shane found himself wanting to tell him.
“Are you attending the Flower Dance this year, Elliott?” Marnie asked when all of them sat down by the lake while Jas was trying to break her record for how high she could go on her swing.
Shane threw her a look, not quite catching her intention with that question. She was ignoring him anyway.
“Certainly. It’s a beautiful tradition.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m trying to convince Shane to join us, too but he keeps mentioning work.”
“I’m right here, Marnie.” Shane scowled at her. “You’ve been dragging me to this dance year after year. I’m only standing around anyways, why would I even go?”
Marnie sighed and waved her hand at her nephew. “I’m sure if Elliott attends, you won’t be standing around on your own. Right, Elliott? You must be a good dancer!”
“I’m a bit rusty, I fear.” Elliott’s smile held more than one layer when his eyes met Shane’s. “But I would love to keep you company.”
“Perfect.” Marnie clapped her hands together before she got up to look after Jas. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go get Jas, it’s almost time to feed the cows.”
Shane grunted at his feet in disapproval which sounded a bit like: “Typical.” He felt bad for Elliott being dragged into their life so forcefully. Even Shane had to tell himself that Marnie meant well; although – most of the time – she was driving him insane.
However, when they had returned to the house and said their goodbyes, Elliott turned to Shane once more. Jas had plucked a daisy earlier und insisted to place it in the writer’s hair; he was still wearing it and the way the sun kissed his auburn waves, he looked almost like he belonged into a fantasy novel.
“Will we continue our meetings at the saloon?” he asked.
Shane nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.” He must’ve noticed Shane’s gaze that kept straying to the small flower behind his ear because he tilted his head slightly. “Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just …” Without thinking, Shane reached out to detangle the daisy from the writer’s hair. “Here. You should keep it, or Jas will be offended.”
Elliott took the flower from him and for a split second, their fingers brushed against one another – a sensation so intense that Shane felt almost upset when it ended before it fully began.
“Perhaps I can return the favor,” he answered with a serene smile, lips full and handsome like a perfect brushstroke, “at the Flower Dance.”
“The Flower Dance?”
“Jas seems excited.”
“Yeah, she loves the town festivals. She’s already making flower crowns for all of her friends.”
“She’s a lovely girl. And you seem … happy when you’re with her.” Elliott’s gaze fell to the daisy as he twirled it between his fingers. “You should think about that when you write your card. All the things you appreciate about her, the way she makes you feel.”
Shane thought about that for a moment, about the warm feeling he held towards his niece. He wanted to protect her, make her see the good in the world and help her nurture all her dreams so that she would never have to end like him.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
💧
On the evening before the Flower Dance, Elliott paid a visit to Leah, his closest friend in Pelican Town. She was helping him decide on an outfit while she was still sewing the final pieces onto her own.
Leah was a brilliant artist and Elliott treasured her friendship because if he wasn’t able to pull himself out of writer’s block, Leah would always rescue him. This time, however, was different. Elliott kept writing and throwing page after page away, lacking a sense of direction in his words, a conflict he couldn’t quite grasp just yet.
“What about that new side project of yours?” Leah asked while she was balancing a pin in the corner of her mouth to have her hands free for measuring. “You said you were helping Shane. How is that going?”
“Well, I think.”
“You think?”
“Do you know him, Leah? Apart from the usual greeting, I mean. Have you ever talked to him?”
“Not much.” She shrugged. “I see him around town, but he keeps to himself a lot. I respect him for that. He’s like us in that regard, don’t you think?”
Elliott’s gaze drifted out of the window where the forest’s lake lay nearly still underneath the sun’s clear touches. A notebook was resting on his thighs, but the pen hadn’t touched the paper in a while. Instead, Elliott’s thoughts circled around the strange encounters with Shane that he couldn’t quite place, no matter how often he replayed them in his mind.
“Elliott?”
His head turned, only to find Leah smirking; she looked at him as if she knew something he didn’t. “Hm?”
“You like him, don’t you?”
Elliott blinked at her. “What?”
“Of course you do, that’s why you’ve been acting like this.”
“Like what?”
“All brooding and serious.”
Elliott scowled at her. “I am not!”
She finished the last couple of stitches on her dress and presented it proudly. “All done!”
“It looks great, Leah.”
“It’s inspired by one of my paintings. Emily helped me with the flowers and the fabric.” She carefully placed it on a hanger and joined her friend by the windowsill. “I’ve been looking forward to the dance all spring.”
Elliot raised his eyebrows at her. “Could it be because of the new farmer?”
“Maybe.” Leah smiled coyly. “I’ve been talking to her a lot and she has expressed her interest in my paintings … I hope she will like the dress.”
“Of course she will, Leah. You’re stunning.” He watched the trees and the water’s surface for a few minutes before he dared to speak again. “I hope Shane is coming, too.”
Leah, who was busying herself by cleaning up her art supplies, threw him a look over her shoulder. “Why wouldn’t he come?”
“I don’t think he’s very fond of the town festivities.”
“But he’s fond of you, isn’t he?”
“I doubt that.” He was mumbling that answer more to himself than to his friend. And what did it matter, really?
He was helping out, nothing more. After Jas’s birthday, they would go their separate ways again.
Then why did the thought of crossing out Shane from his daily schedule bother him so much?
“You never know if you don’t ask him to dance,” Leah said, pointing her paintbrush at him. “It’s always worth to put yourself out there, Elliott.”
💧
The day of the Flower Dance started as a beautiful morning, full of early sunshine and clear skies. When Elliott left the house in his dark green tux, he felt his nerves.
He’d stored the daisy from Jas in a tiny glass by the window, trying to keep it alive as long as possible. It had actually inspired him to wear his hair in a braid today, draped over his shoulder and tied with a white ribbon at the bottom; only a few loose strands were framing his face.
The Cindersnap Forest was already buzzing with faint conversation and occasional laughter when Elliott entered the festival grounds just a few minutes after nine.
He spotted Gus, Lewis and Pierre who were involved in a conversation of their own. A few of the women were gathered around the table that provided an array of accessories made of fresh flowers. Penny and Jodie were handing them out to the dancers.
He noticed that people were wearing different clothing styles since Mayor Lewis had decided to loosen up the dress code this year and let everyone make their own decisions.
Another group had assembled around the small food stand and was handing out beverages to the new arrivals. Elliott accepted a homemade lemonade from Caroline and headed over to Leah and Emily who were immersed in a conversation about dresses.
“Elliott, it’s great to see you,” she greeted him with a beaming smile. “You look lovely.”
“So do you two.”
The question Has one of you seen Shane? lingered on his tongue for a moment but Leah’s cheeks suddenly turned a bright shade of pink as her gaze fixated someone over his shoulder.
When Elliott turned, he saw the new farmer in an elegant white dress buying one of the flower crowns from Haley.
When the farmer’s gaze searched the crowd and found Leah’s, her expression lit up and she waved at her.
Elliott nudged his friend with his elbow before leaving them to it. “I told you, she likes you.”
Although he felt a little lost at gatherings like this, Elliott tried to socialize as much as he could. He did like his neighbours and he enjoyed their company even though he kept to himself most of the time.
When he was on his second glass of lemonade, he saw Marnie and Jas enter the festival grounds, both dressed in floral prints. Jas was wearing her signature green bow and carrying a small basket. And when Elliott already felt his heart sink at the absence of Shane, Jas turned to wave at someone until she finally hurried back to drag Shane along by his sleeve.
Elliott couldn’t help the smile that warmed his expression and when Marnie spotted him in the crowd, he reciprocated her greeting with a wave of his hand.
“Elliott, you look gorgeous!” She pulled him into a hug before her gaze roamed further to her friends at the nearby table and she was hurrying off already.
Jas and Shane were approaching him now and when their eyes met, Elliott felt a flower bloom in his own chest.
“Elliott!” Jas let go of Shane’s sleeve to hurry over. “Look at my dress! Marnie helped me make it!”
Elliott smiled at her. “You might be the most beautiful girl here today, Jas.”
“And the most annoying,” Shane grumbled as he caught up to his goddaughter. When his gaze found Elliott, however, he seemed speechless for a moment. His dark eyes roamed over the writer’s figure, almost drinking him in before he noticed his staring and cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you, Elliott. You look …” He averted his eyes and Elliott could’ve sworn he saw his cheeks turn light pink. “Good.”
“You look like a prince,” Jas added. “Doesn’t he, Uncle Shane?”
When Shane’s eyes met Elliott’s again, something in them had softened. “He does.”
The writer felt his stomach tighten at the words. “You look quite dashing yourself,” he said, eyeing Shane’s dark-blue suit that accentuated just the right curves of his body.
Shane smiled awkwardly as if unsure how to respond to the compliment. But, of course, Jas was there to save the day.
“I made something for you,” she announced, then pulled something from her basket and handed it to Elliott. It was a flower crown – an array of white, green and yellow flowers, tied with a silver ribbon.
The scent of spring lingered in the air as Elliott accepted the gift and placed it in his hair. Then, he turned to Shane. “How do I look?”
Shane opened his mouth and closed it again. Then, he frowned. “Like you belong.”
The writer smiled and offered him a hand. “Will you be my dance partner, then?”
His heart soared when Shane placed his hand on top of his own and the same warmth spread through his body like a rising sun.
The other villagers had found their partners as well and once the music started and the festival began, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves wholeheartedly. Even Shane, who complained more than once about being a bad dancer, exhaled a laugh every now and then and Elliott thought it the most beautiful sound he’d heard all spring.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he told him as the music shifted and the dancers drew closer for a slower dance.
“Me too,” Shane said. “I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed myself.”
“I agree.”
Elliott was leading them across the dancefloor in a steady rhythm, step after step, note after note. It felt natural to dance like this, as if their bodies were moving in a single harmony, complementing each other perfectly.
“You know, since I’ve met you, I’ve paid more attention to my emotions,” Shane continued. “It’s difficult for me … to be present sometimes.”
Elliott turned them around, his arm steady on Shane’s waist. “What are you feeling now?” he asked when their eyes met again.
Could it be that the dark circles under Shane’s eyes had faded, if only a little?
There was color in his cheeks, too. His beard looked trimmed and shorter than before, as if he’d actually made an effort on how he would look today.
In that moment, everything about him was gentle, Elliott thought. Not at all harsh or even resentful, like he’d often perceived the man from afar, before he’d truly gotten to know him.
“I can’t really say,” Shane replied quietly. “Because I’ve never felt like this before.”
They remained in that moment, if only for a second, and Elliott felt his heart leap in his chest as if to urge him to be brave. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant, either.
The last few notes of the song spilled from the speakers and eventually stilled while everyone separated or left the dancefloor entirely.
Elliott held Shane for a second longer before he let go of him, too. But when both of them returned to the food stall to pick up some refreshments, Elliott could still feel those dark eyes linger on his face; he could still feel Shane beneath his fingers as well as the smile that man had brought to his face again and again.
Spring was leaving Pelican Town and Elliott’s common sense seemed to leave with it. Because every time he locked eyes with Shane that day, the only thing he could think about was how excited he was for the season’s to change, for summer to finally arrive.
💧
Shane’s bin was already overflowing with crumpled pieces of paper – failed attempts at a birthday card for Jas. Nothing felt quite right yet, although he had gotten better at expressing his feelings already.
But there was something … blocking his words, it seemed. Someone, to be exact.
Since the day of the Flower Dance, Shane hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the writer with the beautiful long hair and the emerald eyes – a man so different from him yet so easy to talk to and be around.
Something was brewing and the day of the Dance had stirred the pot even more.
Shane wasn’t good at feelings. He’d never been good at feelings. He had never even thought to live as long as he did but now, all he could think about was how much he enjoyed his daily meetings with Elliott. How much he wanted to write that card for Jas and see her toothy smile when she unwrapped her new skipping rope on her birthday.
Perhaps there was something he had to get out first. Something about …
He opened a new page in his notebook – the one he’d bought solely for the purpose of his daily practices – and closed his eyes for a moment.
He thought about his feelings. About the way his stomach twisted so weirdly whenever he spotted Elliott at their usual table at the saloon. About the deep green of the writer’s eyes, so vibrant and observant as if he could read every thought passing through Shane’s mind. About the way he smiled and how infectious it was – how absurd it was that Elliott was the one who made him laugh when he hadn’t laughed in ages, or so it felt.
Somehow, it seemed to work because he wrote and wrote and wrote until the page was full and his cheeks were hot. He folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket and started a new page and a new try at Jas’s birthday card.
💧
The Stardrop Saloon was fairly empty on the Wednesday night before Jas’s birthday. But the table in the far back was occupied like every night.
Shane and Elliott were chatting about the book Elliott had gifted Shane for his birthday and while the evening went on, Shane presented the final draft for the birthday card.
Happy Birthday Jas!
One more year has passed, and you’ve grown so much already.
I promise to be by your side as long as you let me. And I’m looking forward to many more of our adventures.
I’m proud of you and I wish you all the happiness this world has to offer.
PS: The chickens told me you should come visit them more often.
Love you always,
Uncle Shane
He was a little shy at first but when Elliott’s eyes skimmed the page, he felt a sense of accomplishment flood his chest. He couldn’t help but be proud of Shane and his progress – even though he hated to be complimented in any way.
“You did a great job with this, Shane,” Elliott told him. “She might still be very young, but she will appreciate this, especially when she gets older.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I was very young when I left my parents’ house to live on my own. I had never been close to them, not as I would’ve liked to be.” Elliott looked at the page one more time before he handed it back to Shane. “Words like these can mean the world to someone.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Shane took a sip from his beer. “And I mean it.”
Elliott raised his drink, and they clinked glasses in a moment of mutual gratitude. “It has been a pleasure.”
Shane invited Elliott to the birthday party on the next day and Elliott accepted with a smile. However, Shane had to leave in a haste because Marnie called him about something at the shop. Elliott insisted to pay the tab and finished his wine before he decided to call it a night as well.
Just when he got up from his chair to leave the saloon, he noticed a folded piece of paper beneath Shane’s chair. He picked it up and caught a glimpse at the handwriting – definitely Shane’s – before he realized the content of the note, especially the address line at the very top.
Dear Elliott, it read in narrow, black lettering.
The writer folded the note shut and stared at it for a moment longer, hesitant what to do with it. Clearly, this note was a letter addressed to him. A letter from Shane addressed to him.
Surely, he couldn’t have left it on purpose and Elliott didn’t want to intrude on his new acquaintance’s personal feelings.
If those particular feelings concerned him, however …
It took him about an hour to get home – an hour of walking aimlessly around town, considering whether he should return the letter or read it.
Eventually, he ended up at the beach, at the same spot he’d found Shane (which seemed to be a lifetime ago already). The paper trembled in his hands but the breeze, contrary to two weeks ago, was warm that night, gentle even. As if it wanted to encourage Elliott to take a leap of fate.
It was summer, after all.
And so, careful and with nervous fingertips, Elliott unfolded the note and began to read.
💧
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”
Shane was checking the pocket in his jacket for the tenth time already, but he couldn’t find the note he’d put there earlier. He’d searched his whole room, even the bin, but the treacherous letter with his embarrassing confession remained missing.
As the evening went on, Shane couldn’t deny the possibility any longer: He must’ve lost it on his way to the saloon, at the saloon even. If anyone had found or even read it …
The thought alone made him wish the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
He decided to give in and walk back to the saloon where Gus was already closing up. To the question whether he’d seen a note of some kind, he shook his head and Shane’s last spark of hope died miserably.
Just as he was about to leave, Gus told him: “Elliott left a while after you. When he paid for your drinks, I think he was holding a letter. I’m sure it’s in safe hands with him.”
Elliott?
Great, so he’d decided to confess his feelings for the man to a stupid piece of paper and then lost it. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, the one person who wasn’t supposed to read it had found his letter.
He thanked Gus and left, then wandered around town for a while. He ended up on a park bench at the town square, contemplating his life and cursing himself for his own stupidity.
He was embarrassed, awfully so.
If he would’ve ever gathered the courage to tell Elliott how he truly felt, he wouldn’t have done it like this – like a coward.
This was all new to him. All of these things – the excitement to see Elliott after a long day at work; the fastening heartbeat whenever they shared a smile; the gratitude he felt for Elliott’s compassion when it came to his darkest of thoughts – had saved him. He knew it was a terribly corny thing to think, let alone tell it to someone’s face, but it was the truth. And Shane would be forever thankful to have knocked on that door in need for help.
“Shane?”
His head jerked at the sound of the voice and before his eyes could see him, he knew that it was Elliott.
The writer was wearing the same red coat as earlier, his hair was tied in a ponytail and in his right hand … the letter.
“I walked by your house, but Marnie told me you went back into town.” His features remained unreadable, but his voice held a hint of worry. “I’m terribly sorry, but I read your letter.”
Shane gestured with his hand. Now that Elliott was actually standing in front of him, he didn’t feel scared anymore. He was only glad to see him. Even that was corny.
“You weren’t supposed to, you know.”
“I thought so.”
After a moment of silence, Elliott took the seat next to Shane on the bench. He was still holding to paper as if inclined to reading it again.
Shane waited for another answer, but the writer stayed silent. That made him feel insecure all of a sudden.
What if Elliott was freaked out by it?
What if he didn’t want to see him again?
What if …
Shane tried to force his thoughts from spiralling but failed miserably.
“I’m really sorry,” he blurted, unable to bear the silence any longer. “I didn’t mean for you to find it. I was thinking about what you said, about writing what I feel and appreciate. It just … happened.” He got up from the bench, already trying to ban the pitying look on Elliott’s features from his brain.
“Shane, I–”
“I should go home, I still have to prepare some stuff for Jas’s birthday.”
“Shane, wait.” Elliott got up and reached out, his hand holding on to Shane’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
The touch seemed to ground them both.
“Please don’t leave,” Elliott said. “And please excuse my lack of words. I fear you caught me off guard tonight. I don’t know what to say … Which is a rare occasion indeed.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
Elliott shook his head and let go of Shane’s wrist. “I want to say something.” He cleared his throat and brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “What you wrote in that letter … You touched my heart, Shane. It’s not that I don’t feel the same way because I do … I am surprised, is all. I didn’t expect this” – he held up the letter for a second – “from you.”
Shane stared at him for a moment, but all his brain could register were the words: It’s not that I don’t feel the same way because I do.
“Because I am supposed to be the writer,” Elliott added when Shane didn’t answer. “But your words are beautiful, Shane.”
“You … like me, too?”
“Of course I do. How couldn’t I?” Elliott looked at him in surprise as if the answer to the question was obvious. He took a step closer and took Shane’s hand. “If you give me a little time, I could write you a reply and–”
Shane took a leap of fate and closed the distance between them. His heart was pounding against his chest, repeating the words over and over: Of course I do. How couldn’t I?
Elliott’s lips were warm on his own – soft and new but not at all unfamiliar.
The kiss was a little clumsy at first – both of them were a little rusty, a little too excited to experience something they’d both never imagined for themselves on their solitary paths.
Elliott wrapped his arms around Shane’s waist – just like back at the Flower Dance – and Shane gently brushed a strand of hair behind the writer’s ear, hands trembling nervously at the fragile touch.
“This is a good enough answer for me,” Shane said quietly, cheeks burning with both confusion and utter joy.
“I must say” – Elliott chuckled, and the sound went right under Shane’s skin – “you surprised me twice today.”
Shane felt flushed for a moment, lightheaded and silly – like a teenager, like someone truly alive.
“Allow me to cook you dinner tomorrow night, after the party. There are a few things I’ve been working on since we first met. I would love to share them with you.”
Shane nodded quietly, his heart so full that he thought he would fall unconscious any second now.
Elliott smiled, then leaned in a second time to place another gentle kiss on Shane’s lips. A reminder perhaps, something to scare away all insecurities.
I’m here, the gesture seemed to say, and I won’t leave you.
“Let me walk you home, then,” Elliott said as he took Shane’s hand to link their fingers ever so subtly. “And no matter what you say, I still owe you a proper answer to that letter.”
Bonus: Shane’s letter
Dear Elliott,
You will probably never read this and that’s a relief already.
There are no words to describe how I feel about all of this. And yet I sit here and write because that’s what you told me to do.
I think I can never really tell you how glad I am that I knocked at your door and asked for help. I thought a lot about it beforehand. Because every time I’ve seen you around town, I was intimidated. You are smart, you are beautiful and everything you say makes sense.
I told you, I’m not a writer and I will never be one but all I can say is that you made me want to write. You made me want to confess my feelings even if it’s only on paper, like the coward I am.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that you are my reason. I appreciate you and your companionship. I appreciate what you’ve done for me and Jas. And I appreciate that you didn’t just leave that night at the beach.
It’s easy to talk to you and tell you what I think. And that is what I don’t really understand. Because for most of my life I have been alone, and I thought I would stay alone. I didn’t even feel the need to change it. I didn’t have any hope left for me and my future. I guess you could say I had given up on myself.
But with you, it’s different. With you, I had something to do, something to work on. And for the first time in forever, I felt like I had a purpose again. To keep going, you know? To actually live my life instead of just existing.
Maybe it’s crazy to feel this way after roughly three weeks. But I do. You’ve become an important part of my day and I never want to miss that again. A part of me even thinks you could feel the same about me. Like there is a chance for an us. You and me. Together.
I don’t want to be on my own anymore, Elliott. I want to be with you.
Love,
Shane