Midnight Cove

The morning was cool. An offshore breeze blew, bringing with it a depressing cloud cover that reflected my mood. I assailed poor Terry with questions that morning before he could make it to his car. He stood with his surfboard under one arm and his wetsuit only halfway on, exposing his round belly covered in a mat of white, curly hair. He was kind enough not to laugh at me, and listened as I told him about the strange young man in the garden last night, but he had never heard of my Cove.

"Sorry, sweet Bonnie," Terry said shaking his head. "But I don't know. I've never heard of 'em. Maybe you were just having weird dreams from the concussion you got? You shoulda called me kiddo, I would've picked you up from school."

I hung my head devastated that Terry was a dead end. I knew that what he said was true, not just about getting a ride home either. I could have easily dreamt all of it.

"Yeah, I'm okay Terry. I didn't want to bother you," I admitted. My mood was now completely dejected.

"You're never a bother Sugar," he said and placed his large heavy hand on my shoulder. Terry was a great friend to have and he always smelled of salt and surfboard wax. It was better than any cologne.

"Thanks. I wish I could say the same for my bike though. It got thrashed," I said, and my shoulders slumped just at the thought.

"Ah, no worries. I have a couple extra bikes in the garage from my younger days," he said, with a small chuckle. "You can have whatever one you want. Take your pick. Gotta warn you though some are pretty old."

"Oh, wow!" I said. "You're the best, Terry!" I jumped up and wrapped my arms around the old surfer's wide frame.

"For sure!" he said. He was a little taken aback by my sudden outburst but took it with good humor. "You gotta have wheels, don't 'cha?" he teased.

"Thanks, buddy." I smiled warmly at the old surfer.

"Yeah, yeah. Now, if we're done? I gotta hit the waves, Honey." I nodded. He smiled and headed off. He was eager to make it to his beloved beach.

Under the staircase that led to my studio, was a door that opened into the back of a huge garage. I had never been in the garage before. It was Terry's space. On the walls were framed posters of surfers riding waves that must've been at least forty feet tall. There were signed headshots of guys with sandy colored hair and sun damaged skin and pictures of exotic beauties in string bikinis. There were tools on one of the counters and hanging from nails. They were covered in dust. It didn't look as though anyone had used them in quite awhile. There were boxes in various areas against the walls with all sorts of bric-a-brac, I didn't look too closely. Just because I was allowed in there didn't mean I was allowed to pry.

I saw Terry's 1956 Chevy Bel Air parked in the center. It was a classic. The exterior of the car was two-tone with white and turquoise and shiny chrome everywhere. The interior was all white leather. I bet the vehicle drove as smooth as butter; it looked smooth just sitting there. I walked around the rear of it to the other side and found what I was looking for. There were about half a dozen bicycles clustered together. A couple were really cool looking, but too rusty for me to bother with. I wasn't much when it came to fixing or restoring things. I saw one that looked brand new, but I didn't want to take that one; too afraid to take something that Terry might still be using. Instead, I grabbed an older looking bike that had hardly any rust. The paint job was still decent. The red hadn't flaked off in too many places. There were stars on the gears and that got me thinking about last night. I grabbed the bike and walked out of the garage while the smile was still forming on my lips.

I parked the bike under the stairwell to ask again later if Terry was sure I could have this bike and turned around to close the garage door. Thinking about what Terry had said started to grate on my nerves. I wasn't mad at Terry because he was right about Cove being a figment of my imagination, but that had me peeved at myself. I should have realized that my brain wasn't functioning normally after the accident yesterday, the dream about Anna was a dead give away. A guy that perfect could never exist.

"Stupid Cove," I muttered under my breath.

"Did I do something?" That velvety voice again. I spun around breathless. Shocked to see my gorgeous imaginary friend come to life once more. He sauntered towards me looking indescribably irresistible. I couldn't decide whether I was more in awe of my own devious thoughts or of his actual presence.

"Who are you?" I asked. I couldn't wrap my mind around it, was I hallucinating? I wasn't a drug user and there was no way I had a concussion that bad. How could he be here? Was last night real?

"Am I so easily forgotten?" He questioned me with a knowing gaze. I started to realize then, he was fully aware of how gorgeous he was. He wasn't vain, but definitely a little cocky.

"Look, Cove, is it?" I took on my big girl, serious tone. "I am not about to be afraid. I know you don't know Terry, so either you are a liar when you told me you come here often, or you are a complete fabrication and I need to go get my head examined."

"I never lie," he said. He stated it with so much indignation I almost apologized before I remembered, he was the one that was trespassing.

"Well, if last night was real then you are," I insisted. I wasn't going to lose an argument with a stranger or a fantasy, whichever he turned out to be.

"Why wouldn't last night be real and why would you be certain I lied to you?" he asked, taking on a very inquisitive look. He couldn't figure me out. I decided to clue him in.

"I hit my head a couple of times yesterday and I might be imagining you." I shrugged. "If I am not imagining you then, you lied. Because last night you said you visit Terry's garden often. I asked Terry about you this morning, and he said you two have never met. He's never even heard of you!" These thoughts had been pent up inside of me all morning and I ended up rattling them off a bit more fervently than I had planned.

Cove looked at me for a moment, mild shock apparent on his face, then burst out laughing. "I never said I knew Terry. You said it was Terry's garden; I said that I came here quite often. I am not a figment of your imagination, but I am sorry that you hit your head multiple times yesterday. I was not aware of that." He stopped smiling and grimaced at the thought. "Are you feeling well? Would you like to see a doctor?"

He seemed genuinely concerned. I almost felt flattered, and then I remembered that he could be a threat. The question arose in my mind as to why he would visit Terry's garden if he didn't know Terry?

Refusing to answer his question, I decided to ask another of my own, "Then, why are you here? Are you some sort of robber?" I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do if he decided to say yes. I knew Terry would be long gone by now and there was no way the neighbors could hear me even if I did scream.

"Are you serious?" he lifted his eyebrow in question. "Do I look like a robber to you?"

I had to admit he had me there. Inspecting him more closely, I realized he was well dressed. His jeans hugged his hips nicely and looked brand new. He was wearing a button-down, black dress shirt. He had the appearance of a man who needed ask for nothing in life.

"No," I drawled the word, still unsure of him. "But then, why do you come here?" I still didn't understand.

"I was sure you asked me that last night," he smiled warmly at me, glad to see that I wasn't as fearful of him as I had been a moment ago. "As I told you, it is beautiful here. I like it. I visit the garden quite frequently." He paused a moment and then cocked his head and leered at me with the most penetrating gaze before continuing, "Are you afraid of me? Would you like me to leave, Bonnie?"

I felt a mixture of emotions at that moment, the exuberance of him saying my name won out, over the lesser sense of indignation at the idea of being afraid.

"No. I said I wouldn't be afraid of you." I continued being as honest as I was last night. I decided I would follow my gut and my gut instinct was telling me that there was something to him.

"You're not going to hurt me, are you Cove?" I waited to gauge his reaction.

Cove stood to his full height, which must have been at least six feet as his face became somber. With a very gentle tone, he answered me.

"No, Bonnie. I am not," the words ran deep. He meant what he said, and I may have been a fool, but I thoroughly believed him.

The sound of someone's car alarm broke the reverie. I looked away and realized the sun was peeking out from behind some clouds. Judging by its position in the sky I was going to be late for work.

"Oh shoot!" I banged the heel of my hand on my forehead. "I've got to get ready for work!"

I looked about and saw the bike still leaning against the side of the garage. I decided didn't want to take the bike without asking Terry at least once more, I knew I was going to have to walk or more likely run if I wanted to make it on time. I ducked around Cove and headed for the stairs taking two at a time. As soon as I landed on the sundeck I spun around and called down to make sure he was still there.

"I get off at eleven. Be here?" It was both a question and a demand. I wasn't done figuring him out yet. I couldn't see him anymore and worried he had vanished again while my back was turned. To my relief though, he stepped out from underneath the stairwell.

Looking up at me, smiling, he said, "Of course." It was hard to turn away from his handsome face, but satisfied with his answer I rushed off to put on my makeup, and my running shoes. I would be needing both of them today.