Some workdays end with a deep desire to drape across my couch with some munchies. Today definitely ranks as one of those days. I tap my foot impatiently as a coworker struggles to swipe her badge over the time clock. Having participated in the same orientation session as her, I can’t feign surprise, but the last of my patience whittles away as I resist the urge to grab her card and forcefully help her out.
The drive home continues to prove the adage that common sense isn’t that common. One driver inches out in front of me at the last second and proceeds to creep along at half the speed limit. The person in a lifted truck behind me gets so close to my bumper that his engine makes my car rumble. Luckily, the speed racer in front of me doesn’t slam on their brakes. Not that they need to even when they decide to come to a complete stop and look both ways to turn into a neighborhood I swear connects to the one they popped out of. Then the guy in front of me at the light to turn onto my street sleeps through one and a half green lights despite my anxious honking. I barely make it through the second only to end up behind him as he pauses to inspect every house in the neighborhood.
I gratefully pull into the garage, closing the door against the world. I slip my key into the interior door and pull it open. Instead of my inviting couch, a dozen Minotaurs writhing to soft chanting around a bonfire greet me. As I stare in bewilderment, one Minotaur turns, sees me, and charges toward me.
“Sacrifice!” He roars.
I slam the door and lean on my car a minute. Then I venture in again. This time snow swirls out at me. Climbers in so many layers that I wouldn’t recognize a familiar face slowly make their way up a sheer rock face before me. One waves and invites me to join them. I ponder for a second, look down into the unending fall where my tan carpet should be, and close the door again.
Before slipping the key in the lock again, I summon some old school magic. I click the heels of my shoes together three times. With each click, I repeat, “there’s no place like home.”
Then I turn the key and slowly open the door. Disappointment strikes immediately as my living room doesn’t await my lounging needs. Then what does await registers and I grin. Sand sparkles just inside the doorway. Further out, salty water crashes against the beach. Between here and there, two low chairs rest in the sand. A man stands up from one of them and turns toward me. He smiles and two dimples blossom in his cheeks. I can’t help but smile back. Then he steps toward me.
“Haven’t seen you here before.”
“Because I haven’t been here before.”
“I can tell.”
I offer a quizzical look.
“You aren’t dressed for the beach.”
I look down at my sweater dress and calf boots. “Point taken.”
“Maybe you could find something at the gift shop?” He looks hopefully off to his left.
“Maybe.” I bite my lip and step over the threshold.
My heels sink into the sand and I start to fall.
“Let’s take those off,” he lifts me off my feet and sits me on one of the chairs to do just that.
Soon, I find myself clad in a modest one piece suit, sipping a frozen hot chocolate, and getting to know Louie. The warmth of the sun lulls me to sleep. When I wake, I expect to find myself sprawled across my couch, surrounded by empty snack bags and crumbs, but I wake up on the sand with a large umbrella shading my fair skin from the sun.
“Hello, sleeping beauty,” Louie grins at me as he refreshes my lemonade. “You woke up just in time for me to invite you to dinner.”
I glance toward the open door into my garage. None of the other scantily-clad sun seekers seems to notice it, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off of it as I answer.
“I’m not sure. I should probably get home.”
“Home? Where’s that?”
I try to remember the name of my town, but all sensible thought escapes me as I look back to him and his smile creates those two perfect dimples.
“Maybe it can wait,” I mumble.
He offers his elbow and I accept it, falling into step with him as we walk barefoot across the warm sand. Soon we reach a restaurant with a friendly sign declaring, “No shoes. No problem. Eat on our sun-drenched deck.”
A tiny woman with unreal red hair smiles up at us as we approach. “Welcome to The Break Room, would you like a seat on our deck?” She directs her eyes pointedly at our feet.
“Yes, please,” Louie flashes his 100 watt smile at her, “One with an umbrella, if you could.”
“Of course,” she nods her head and leads us to a table, where a taller woman with tight, dark curls meets us with menus and a wide smile.
~
Halfway through my club sandwich, I realize that I left the door to my garage wide open on the beach. What if someone steps through it? Or someone picks this moment to rob me and closes it on the other side?
Louie smiles at me, but even those dimples can’t completely squash my concerns. I try to be subtle, but his eyebrows raise in concern as I start noshing with determination.
“Still anxious about getting home?”
“A little.”
“Then let me drive you?”
“That might be a little difficult.”
“Huh?”
My tongue refuses to confess something so ridiculous as not knowing where I was let alone where home was from here. He continues to peer into my eyes with concern and curiosity until I finally break the silence.
“Let’s just go back where we met.”
“That is a memory I don’t mind reliving, but surely you don’t live on a sandy patch of beach.”
“Of course not,” I laugh softly and finish my water.
He shakes his head and stands to offer his hand, “Back to my new favorite spot on the beach.”
We fall into comfortable silence. As we near the spot, Louie stops suddenly. Now, I look at him with confused eyes.
“Here we are,” he smiles down at me but it begins to fall as his eyes met mine, “or not?”
“A little further that way,” I tip my head toward the open doorway.
As he turns his head, a woman in a vivid pink bikini walks straight through the doorway. Instead of bumping into my car, she reappears on the other side of the doorway. She shakes her blond curls and glances around in confusion. Then she rubs her shoulders firmly and shivers before shaking it off and continuing her head-turning stroll across the glittering sand.
I frown and walk toward the doorway, bringing Louie with me as I am not quite ready to let him go. I look from the doorway to his concerned face.
“Can I see your phone?”
He looks confused for a moment, but pulls it from his pocket and hands it to me with hopeful eyes. “Need to call someone to make sure you can stay longer?”
“I just want to make sure you have my number.” I concentrate on entering it correctly though his wide grin distracts me.
As I hand the phone back, I take his hand again and plead. “If this doesn’t work, call me. Please.” Then I step into the doorway. He steps through after me, but I find myself alone in my garage.
I take a deep breath and wait.
Then my phone rings.
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