Chapter 9
While Seattle offered Maya and Clara a sanctuary of gray skies and misty air, David was sweating under the relentless California sun. San Diego was vibrant, loud, and blindingly bright—a stark contrast to the moody Pacific Northwest. David stood in the middle of a dusty 1920s bungalow he had purchased six months ago, holding a power sander. Wood dust drifted through the air like golden snow, catching the intense beams of sunlight piercing through missing windowpanes.
He switched off the sander, plunging the room into a sudden, ringing silence. He wiped his brow with the back of a calloused hand, leaving a streak of sawdust across his forehead. His brown jacket was long gone, replaced by a paint-splattered gray t-shirt. Life in San Diego was physical, exhausting, and entirely solitary.
David missed Clara, but he missed an idealized version of her that existed only in memory—the woman she had been before the silence and the resentment poisoned their marriage. He also missed Maya, not out of lingering affection, but because Maya had possessed the courage to blow the lid off a pressure cooker that was bound to explode anyway.
His smartphone chimed from a wooden sawhorse in the corner. He walked over, brushing sawdust off his jeans, and checked the screen. It was an email from Clara—a simple update regarding the final tax documents for the sold house. At the bottom, she had added a short postscript: “Hope San Diego is treating you well. The renovations sound like hard work, but I hear good things about the weather.”
May you like
David stared at the screen, a bittersweet smile touching the corners of his mouth. He typed a brief response: “The sun is relentless, but the work keeps me honest. Hope Seattle is everything you needed.”
He locked his phone and tossed it back onto the sawhorse. He didn't feel the bitter sting of jealousy or regret anymore. The triangular prison they had built for themselves in the suburbs had collapsed, and out of its rubble, three separate paths had miraculously emerged. He picked up the sander, pulled his protective goggles down over his eyes, and went back to work, stripping away the old layers of wood to reveal the sturdy timber beneath.
