Reading Time:
“Is this your first time here, Miss?”
“Yes.”
It didn’t start with hello.
There was no instantaneous attraction from across a room, no chance meeting in a favoured coffee shop, no plot line easily derived from the trashiest rom-com.
It wasn’t even intentional.
No.
When Mimi met Riley for the first time, it was because she threw a shoe at the back of his head.
“Hey, asshole!” she shouted, the contents of her ratty canvas bag scattered all over the ground.
Riley stumbled off his skateboard when her scuffed Vans hit his neck, turning with a litany of curses because who the fuck throws shoes?
She left her things and marched right up to him, pleased when she realized she stood a good two inches taller. Riley glared up at her as she spat out, “Watch where you’re going.”
Instead of answering, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.
Her eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed, and she was pissed off beyond all measure because who the hell does this dickwad with a cliché douchebag attitude think he is?
“You could have easily pushed me into oncoming traffic!”
Riley – whose name she would learn in time – raised his brow and gestured to the empty road. “What oncoming traffic?”
“You still shoved me over, asshole,” she snapped. “The oncoming traffic would have spelled second-degree murder for you.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked, tone bland and bored and just a wee bit condescending. His eyes raked over her form, from the myriad piercings in her ears and jet-black curls to the swirls of tattoos wrapped around her right arm and thigh. “I don’t see any blood.”
“I’m fine –”
“What are you so mad about, then?”
“You fucking shoved me –”
“I didn’t see you –”
“That’s why you watch where you’re going,” she gritted out, crossing her arms and daring him to say something else quippy or smart.
“Whatever,” he muttered.
Before she could find more words to shout at him, Riley repositioned his headphones around his head and skateboarded away. Not a care in the world, her sole shoe still sitting on the sidewalk like a sad lump.
“What an ass,” she said under her breath.
“Are you here on vacation, Miss?”
“No. It’s just something I have to do.”
The next time Mimi met Riley, it was at the beach.
There really wasn’t much to do when one lived in a quiet little town whose only tourist attraction was a gargantuan expanse of sand and enough waves to draw in local surfers.
Onion was sniffing around at some giant kelp that had washed ashore, his furry little nose nudging the slimy green thing. Mimi usually let him do as he pleased because it wasn’t like she could tell a dog what to do with its life. Bored, she grabbed her phone from inside her bag, idly scrolling through the oh, would you look at that, no texts!
Mid-August was always the worst weather, but Onion needed his walks and Mimi kind of liked the sound of the waves crashing on sand. A few years ago, when things were really bad, she came to the beach a lot. She considered going for a long swim, far enough that the coast would be nothing but a thin line on the horizon, and maybe not coming back.
But those kinds of thoughts were rare now. Sure, she was still stuck in this miserable town because anywhere else was too expensive and her mom was here and she couldn’t just leave her and –
She felt a tug on Onion’s leash. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a person crouching down in front of her dog, who was an award-winning Attention Whore.
“What’s his name?” she heard.
Without looking up from her phone, she answered, “Onion.”
A beat.
Mimi looked up to find Skater Douche staring back at her. Her eyes narrowed, eyeing the hand that was touching her dog. “What do you want?”
He put his hands up in surrender. “I saw a dog,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“And?”
Skater Douche stood up, tossing a glance over his shoulder at the setting sun. “It’s a dog, so I pet it. I’m not a monster.”
Mimi took a deep breath, but the scowl on her face didn’t falter. It was her usual expression – people tended to leave you alone when you looked like that, and add in the tattoos and piercings and the fact that she was Asian in a mostly white town…suffice to say nobody ever approached her on the street. “What are you doing here anyway? No skateboard?”
“Here on earth? Well, you see, God has a grand plan –” He cracked a smile when she rolled her eyes, and no, she definitely didn’t notice the way his stupid lip piercing caught the light when he did that and she definitely didn’t notice how the sea breeze ruffled his dark hair. “I needed a change of scenery.”
She nodded as if she understood the reasons behind that, welcoming Onion back into her arms. It was, perhaps, the only concession to her personality that couldn’t be predicted from her outward appearance. Mimi wasn’t the sort to care if a kid split his knee open on the sidewalk, she wasn’t averse to shoving slow people aside – unless they were old and/or a toddler because that would be inhumane even for her – and she worked at the Happy Clam because she needed the money. She swore, was grumpy, complained, and cussed people out on the street.
“Are you hungry?”
Snapping to attention, Mimi gave Skater Douche a suspicious once-over. “Why?”
“Because I am, and I’m new in town.”
“So?” Onion licked her face, a sign that it was time to go home. “That’s not my problem.”
“I think you’re lonely.”
Mimi curled her lip as she stood. “So, that entitles you to my company?”
“No,” he said slowly. “But you’re scary enough that I think I want to know if you’re also scary on the inside.”
“I’m not scary—”
“You threw a shoe at the back of my head!”
“Because you shoved me over from your stupid skateboard!”
“I said I’m sorry!”
“You really didn’t.”
Skater Douche paused. “Oh. Well, I’m sorry.”
“Doesn’t fix it,” she threw over her shoulder. “You broke the mug I made.”
“You make mugs?” he asked, appearing right next to her.
She gave him a noncommittal hum.
“Is that a no to dinner?”
“I don’t even know you, and whatever adventure you’re looking for here…” Mimi squinted one last time at the orange glow of the horizon, basking in the sound of the water before she had to go home and see if the house was destroyed. “You won’t find it with me.”
“I’m not looking for an adventure.” Skater Douche stepped in front of her, eyes meeting hers squarely. “I wasn’t looking for anything, really. But I found you.”
Mimi snorted. “Is that a pick-up line?”
His lips quirked up in another one of those smiles. “Only if it doesn’t work.”
She walked away, carrying Onion because he was old and tired. “It didn’t work.”
He didn’t call after her.
“Are you here alone, Miss?”
“Yes.”
It was September by the time Mimi saw Riley again.
She still didn’t know his name, but she couldn’t forget his face. No one had ever called her lonely before. A bitch? All the time. Mean? Often enough that she flipped them off whenever another person pointed it out. But lonely? No. Never.
The Happy Clam was outrageously busy for the first weekend of the month, and she was covered in a variety of liquids by the time her shift was over. Once in a while, one of her haughty high school classmates would ask why she didn’t just get a better job, and she’d explain that she wasn’t exactly qualified for anything other than this wretched time serving stupid tourists and entitled residents.
Walking home usually took close to twenty minutes, but with her intensely horrible mood fuelling her steps, she made it in about half that. Banging open the front door, nudging it shut with her hip as she tossed her bag and keys on the table.
“Naomi, is that you?” Mom called out.
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me,” she replied.
“How was school?”
“Fine.” There were papers littering the ground, Onion was nestled near the fire, and many crumbs everywhere that could attract rats if Mimi didn’t clean up. “Did you have a good day?”
“Just fine, darling.”
Both were quiet after that, Mimi taking a shower while her mom sat in front of the TV. She cleaned up the house, cleared the floors of any potential hazards, and found some leftover fish and chips she’d brought home from work yesterday.
Mimi lounged back on the couch next to her mom for a couple of hours, absent-mindedly staring at the cracked ceiling of her old house. Before Mom and Terry got into that car accident, their home was spotless. Paintings, loud music, plenty of food in the fridge.
But when Mom made it home and Terry didn’t, the house fell apart. Mimi had been a skinny seventeen-year-old with too many tattoos and an attitude and not enough smarts, and Mom…well, Mom thought she was still seventeen.
Shit.
She hated thinking about that, hated thinking about Terry. God, she missed him.
“I’m going for a walk,” she decided out loud.
“Naomi, it’s already dark –”
“I’ll be fine, Mom. I won’t go far, and I have my phone with me,” she reassured. Mimi leaned down to press a kiss on her Mom’s temple, hoping that she wouldn’t come back to find a mess in the bathtub again.
Keys, spare change, and phone in hand, Mimi left her house to make the familiar path down to the water.
Most of the beaches were empty after sundown. Mimi sat cross-legged on the sand right where it climbed up toward the road, watching the ocean approach its ancient lover beneath the privacy of moonlight.
It was quiet for about eight minutes.
“I brought dinner to you,” a voice said behind her.
Shoulders tightening, she didn’t bother turning. “Not hungry.”
“I didn’t poison the food,” Skater Douche told her, plopping down on the sand next to her. “And you look hungry.”
Mimi didn’t answer, but she did grab a French fry out of the box he held out to her.
“’s your name?” he asked, mouth full of what appeared to be a fish burger. There was a tattoo of a feathered arrow on his forearm, and various other markings covered what she could see of his calf.
“You can call me Mimi,” she offered. She was too exhausted to tell him to piss off, and Skater Douche wasn’t nearly as annoying when he brought her fries.
“Miranda?” he guessed. She shook her head. “Minerva?”
“McGonagall?” Mimi laughed, surprising herself. “No, I’m not a badass old woman.”
“You are two of those things, I think,” he said. “I’m Riley.”
Neither were keen on breaking the peaceful silence that ensued. Mimi tried to recall the last time someone asked for her name instead of just calling her Miss, and she felt an impulse unlike any other nudging at her back.
Mimi looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since she met him. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he had the kind of smile that promised wicked laughter. He wasn’t tall, but then again, neither was she. He was everything she wasn’t looking for, but here he was anyway.
Riley didn’t spoon feed her, didn’t ask questions, and he mostly just sat there watching the ocean next to her.
She was a grown ass woman. It wasn’t wrong of her to do this, right?
“Riley?” she murmured, testing his name out in her mouth, drawing out the letters.
“Mimi?” he returned lowly.
“Are you single?” she asked. She didn’t blink, didn’t worry about the consequences.
He choked on his burger. “Yeah. I thought you didn’t want dinner.”
“Finish yours,” was all she said.
Mimi didn’t think she’d ever seen someone eat so fast. He practically inhaled the last few bites, topping it off with the rest of his Sprite.
“Okay, I finished. What d—”
She leaned forward and kissed him chastely. If he was caught off guard, he didn’t show it, but Mimi backed off after a second. “Is this okay?”
I don’t know you, but I want you. Are you okay with being a fleeting interest? Is it okay that I only want you for a distraction?
“Fuck, yes,” he breathed.
“Are you expecting anyone, Miss?”
“Not anymore.”
One distraction became two, then three, then Mimi lost count.
At first, that was the deal. She’d find him on the beach, or in the middle of the street, or he’d find her somewhere, and they’d go back to his place.
His house wasn’t falling apart. It was clean, and it smelled nice.
Riley didn’t ask for more, didn’t ask her for anything but whatever she was willing to give him. Still, as the months blended into one another, the tourist waves ebbing and flowing, she found herself sharing bits and pieces of herself that she had never said aloud before.
She told him about Terry, about her big brother who never came home from a trip south with Mom. She told him about choosing to stay home instead of going to the mainland for college like she was meant to. She told him she hated living in that small town where everyone looked at her like a pariah for having a broken mom and a dead sibling.
And after a while, he started to talk, too. He told her he was there because he couldn’t stand his family or any of his friends anymore. He told her he couldn’t afford living anywhere else if he just wanted to work in a store or something else that wasn’t a dingy office. He told her he saw her, saw her loneliness, and saw himself instead.
By January, it wasn’t just a distraction anymore. It wasn’t like either of them were seeing anyone else, and that rush never really faded. Of course, neither ever acknowledged it being something real, because acknowledgement would mean it actually was real.
She liked being around him. She liked arguing with him. Angry distractions were favourable for both parties.
In a different lifetime, one without sick moms and absentee fathers and bad decisions, she might even admit that she cared about him. Love was for children. But she cared. It made her happy to be around him, and she no longer felt guilty about seeking spare moments of solace from something other than her miserable room.
He met her mother, once. Introduced himself as her prom date, because he understood that her mom woke up each day thinking it was still May 23, 2016. That meant that Terry was off at college, and Naomi was finishing her senior year. Her mom sometimes noticed that Mimi had aged, that she had one extra tattoo on her hand, but she knew she had to maintain the charade.
Riley was fond of tracing her tattoos. He’d trace the sinewy vines, the barbed wire, the Japanese characters. None of them were new – she couldn’t afford them anymore – and she was content to feel his finger running over her bare back and shoulder, followed by a pair of lips she was growing intimately familiar with.
“Japan, did we say?” he’d whisper.
“You said you’ve always wanted to go to Greece,” she’d murmur, loving and hating the way she would smile when he kissed her collarbone. She could always feel the cold metal of his lip piercing against her skin when he did that.
“Hmm, Greece is the ultimate dream, I think. But we could go anywhere you wanted to.”
“Just have to find the money, right?”
“Easy enough. I sell candles and shit, you serve fish and shit, and soon enough, we’ll have enough shit to get out of this place,” he’d respond.
“What kind of view would you like, Miss?”
“Whatever lets me see the ocean.”
Her mom had a bad fall at the beginning of February.
Mimi didn’t really know how to feel. She cried, she punched things, she thought about taking that long swim in the ocean, but she wasn’t shattered from the news.
She was home when Mom fell in the bathroom, heard the thud of bone hitting ceramic. Mimi ran just in time to see her mother collapse on the floor, a bit of blood on the back of her head. The sash of her bathrobe had caused her slip.
Mom was in a coma for eighteen days before that steady beep sounded.
Riley was there every single day. When he wasn’t working, when he wasn’t going to the Happy Clam to cover her shift – which her boss told her she really shouldn’t allow – he was there sitting in that awful, bleak hospital room with her. He brought her fries when he could, and otherwise, he just held her hand.
At the funeral, he sat on the front row. He even found a suit, though it didn’t fit the messy hair and lip piercing and tattoos.
Two others attended the service.
When Terry died, the church had been filled to overflowing. But people stopped caring about their fucked-up family once Wendy Guo stopped showing up to the clinic, and they didn’t look twice at Mimi after she screamed at them to leave her alone at his funeral.
Riley helped her pack up the house, put it on sale, and he was there the day she handed it off to a contractor who claimed he could turn it into something amazing. He didn’t offer his place, and she didn’t ask, but it wasn’t because neither didn’t want it.
She moved in with him because, duh, where else was she going to live? It was natural. He liked having her around, she liked being around, and in the few months after her mom’s death, she especially enjoyed having him nearby for a quick distraction.
At some point in August, Mimi woke up with a fake diamond on her finger. Fake, because it wasn’t like he could actually get her one.
“I’m not going to marry you,” she told him.
“Are you going to marry someone else?” he asked, arms curled around her waist.
They were at the beach, him behind her with his legs on either side of hers, and there were way too many tourists crowding the waves.
“I’m not going to marry anyone,” she reminded. “I don’t believe in that shit.”
He hummed in agreement. “Still, wear the ring. As long as you want me to stay with you, wear the ring.”
“Why did you choose to come to Santorini, Miss?”
“To keep a promise.”
It was October. Rain had made the ground slippery, and the storm was unforgiving.
Mimi was walking home when she saw the ambulance. The red and blue flashing lights were difficult to ignore, even as fog inhibited her vision.
She would have passed by blissfully had she not seen the damn skateboard.
And then she saw the person being loaded into the ambulance, an arrow tattoo on his forearm.
“Riley!” she screamed. She dropped her canvas bag, uncaring that yet another mug shattered, the mug she had wanted to bring home to him as a joke. Her heart had ceased to beat in that moment, at the prospect of being so entirely alone for the rest of her life because who else would make her a peanut butter sandwich at two in the morning? Who else would kiss her every morning before she dashed to work? Who else would be there to welcome her home?
A police officer stopped her before she could slide her way to the ambulance in her scuffed Vans. “Miss, this is a closed scene–”
“Where are you taking him? Riley? Where are you taking Riley?” she rushed out. “Riley? Can you hear me?”
“Miss, I’m afraid I can’t let you—”
“Fuck you! I know him! You can’t stop me,” she insisted. “I’m all he’s got here.”
The paramedic called out, “Do you know if he has any existing medical conditions?”
She shoved past the dickwad officer, past the blubbering older woman talking to a second man in uniform, past the black SUV on the side of the road. “He had chicken pox as a kid. I – don’t know. There’s a scar on his back, but I think it was because he fell or – I don’t know. Is he okay? Is he gonna be okay?”
“He was hit by a moving vehicle when he pushed that woman out of the way…” The two paramedics ushered her into the ambulance, explaining so many things that she wished she wasn’t so fucking stupid so maybe she’d understand what they were saying but God, there was so much blood –
His arm was bent the wrong way, and blood was leaking onto the floor from a nasty wound to his leg. Riley’s head was –
She couldn’t lose him.
Mimi had never said it out loud before, but she knew he knew. He had to know.
“I’ll die without you,” she whispered to him.
He was so still, but she could imagine he’d laugh at those kinds of words coming out of her mouth. He’d laugh, but he’d be alive and healthy and –
“You were the only thing worth living for. Please, Riley. Please, please don’t leave me.”
“How long have you been engaged?”
“I’m not engaged.”
Mimi lived in the hospital for about six months. She only went home to get more clothes, to check on Onion, to clean up the house so he wouldn’t obsessively wipe everything down whenever he came home.
She never allowed herself to think that he wouldn’t.
It was March now.
Flowers were beginning to bloom, tourists were coming back, but to Mimi, every day was the same. She’d go to work, pay the bills, handle an extra shift to make sure they weren’t homeless at the end of this shit.
After, she’d sit at his bedside reading his favourite books to him.
Riley looked tough, but he loved fairy tales. Cinderella, the Snow Queen, the Little Prince…she read all of those to him. Sometimes, she’d even make up tales of a curious elf or a talking antelope. They were shit stories, but she hoped he was listening.
And when it grew dark, that was when she’d cry. The tears were never too far away, and she fought to keep the sadness from her voice. Her fingers idly twisted the fake diamond, something she kept on a chain around her neck so it wouldn’t draw too much attention at work.
She’d whisper to him, “You told me we’d travel the world together. You sell candles and shit, I serve fish and shit, and soon enough, we’ll have enough shit to get out of this place. You told me that, Riley.”
In the mornings, she’d tell him, “Greece is the ultimate dream, right? We’ll go to Greece. Travel the Mediterranean. We’ll see everything. You just have to wake up, Riley. Please. Stay with me.”
But like an ocean swallowing a grain of sand on the beach, so did eternal sleep eventually come for Riley.
Mimi wore that fake diamond for the rest of her life.
“Then, why do you wear a ring?”
“For the memories.”
Clara Abigail 