The Beach House
His name is LeoI’ve always wanted to go to someplace nice and quiet with Leo. Because he hates being in the crowd so much…
And here we are. The address along with a house-key we found in the car leads us to a beach. There are a few beach houses here, and one of them belongs to my mom.
How excited I was to find that my mom’s house was the one on the very end, right on the end of the road, nearby the harbour. It’s nice, scenic, and most importantly… solitary. Just about right, because that’s what a runaway needs.
We hopped off the car with the little amount of belongings we brought, and entered the house.
* * *
The house came with a housekeeper, so its undoubtedly sparkly clean. Old, of course. But clean and comfortable. After making sure that I understood whatever there is to know about the house and this beach, she left. No questions asked.
My best guess is that she might be another friend of mom who owed her something. Thus the loyalty…
I didn’t talk much with Leo during the trip. In fact, not a single word aside than what is necessary to say during the drive…
Was it because he’s guilty of something?
Was it because I don’t really know who he is right now?
I’m not even sure.
I act strong and composed, told him to unpack, and that we’ll share a room because there is only one bedroom in this small beach house.
He instead tugged onto my wrist as I was about to leave the room, looking at me with an intense gaze.
“I think… I have a lot of explanations to do..” he mumbled. And he was right. Damn, he’s so damn right that it’s surprising me he haven’t said a word since earlier.
Comments