November

It feels like November, Tamara thought as she stared at the darkening sky against the ocean with sad, brown eyes. The wind whipped around the corner of the beach shop more violently than usual; no doubt due to the cold front the garrulous announcers on the radio had been talking about all day. She tightened the rubber band holding her long, brown hair in a ponytail, knowing she had to face that wind if she wanted to find the comfort of home tonight.

Tamara snapped off the radio and pushed a small vacuum cleaner around shelves of sweatshirts and clearance racks of swimsuits and beach towels. It wasn’t like the store really needed cleaning, and she pushed the buzzing vacuum around listlessly from a sense of dull routine. The summer crowds had left months ago, abandoning the call of the sea for the beckon of the mountains or football stadiums. Their last customers were a young couple three days ago. Newlyweds, they said, looking for lighthouse figurines to decorate their new home with a nautical theme. Tamara sold them the last of the stock at 70% off. Why not, she thought. The store would close for the season in two weeks and they wouldn’t restock until the grand reopening the week before Easter.

Tamara finished vacuuming and stared out the shop window at the deserted beach. Did Evan and I look like that couple? Probably so. She stared out the window at the blowing sand, remembering their time after lifeguard shifts and shop closings. How many times had they walked that stretch of sand, the sum warming their skin and the salty air blowing through their hair? She lost count as her mind stuck on that last walk on Labor Day. She remembered gazing in his blue eyes in the light of the rising sun, trying to ignore the hum of the car engine in the parking lot behind them. Going to college isn’t the end, he assured her, just moving to a new phase of life. They had something special, or so she thought.

She took her phone out of her pocket and checked it. No calls, no messages.

“It doesn’t look like we’re going to have any customers today,” a voice said. Tamara saw the reflection of Olivia, the store owner, walking out of the storage room and surveying the room with bright green eyes. Her red hair glowed in the reflection on the glass as she picked up a feather duster and swiped it over porcelain figurines of shells and tropical birds, strategically arranged in the front window.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Tamara agreed, shoving her phone in her pocket.

Olivia frowned. “You haven’t heard from him, have you? How long has it been?”

Tamara shrugged as she rolled the vacuum cleaner behind the counter. “Two weeks. Maybe three. He said he was busy with his classes the last time we talked.” She stared at the floor and bent to pick up a large, yellow leaf the vacuum cleaner missed. “Maybe he’s busy with midterms.”

“It’s past midterms. Face it Tamara; he’s gone.”

Tamara returned her gaze to the clouds outside. “I know.”

Olivia sighed and tossed the duster behind the counter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you’re right,” Tamara said, sniffing. “These things happen. Summer flings, you know. People move on. I should too.” She swiped her sweater sleeve across her nose. Her sinuses tingled, perhaps with the start of a cold. “But how? This place dies in the winter.”

Olivia nodded. “Be patient. This is a tourist town. Summer always comes and brings plenty of people with it. Who knows? Maybe it will bring something lasting next time.”

“Maybe.”

Olivia hit the switch to turn off the “Open” sign. “Closing time; finally. Let’s go.”

“Doesn’t Reggie work late on Wednesdays?” Tamara asked. “Why don’t we have supper at the diner?”

Olivia’s face pinched. “He switched his late day this week. I promised I’d come straight home.” She paused and studied Tamara’s face. “I’m sorry. I can see you really need the company. Another time perhaps?”

Tamara forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can go next week.” She supposed she deserved it. She put Olivia off plenty during the summer to spend time with Evan. “I parked out front, so I’ll go out this door. Enjoy your evening.”

Olivia switched off the light. “You too. See you in the morning.”

Tamara pushed open the door, bracing herself against the wind and drizzle pelting her face. The slap of frigid air sucked the wind out of her, leaving her as grey as the darkening sky. Winter was coming. Yes, the thought as she pulled her coat tighter around her, it feels like November.

The light was waning and she couldn’t imagine summer being any further away.

Word Count: 805