Chapter 1

c h a p t e r 1

I feel a nudging at my side but try to ignore it. I'm tired. I just want all of it to go away. I shift and rest my head against the window, getting comfortable again but as luck would have it, the irritation continues.

"JT? Jay? Jay? Dude? Dude? Dude, wake up. Wake up, dude."

I slowly open my eyes and groan when I see Kyle staring down at me with an annoying grin on his face. He's in my space...again. He's unintentionally brought me back to the reality holding my nightmares captive and I'm not grateful for it.

I lift my head from the pane of glass to scowl at him. He has endless energy. We're on opposite sides of the spectrum because I just want to sleep. I stick my arm out and forcefully shove him away from me. "Get out of my face," I mutter groggily, unable to keep my eyes open any longer.

I rest my head again and close my eyes, willing away the dark thoughts that seem to be consuming my mind lately. He laughs mockingly at my exhaustion. I sigh aloud. "You're so annoying," I hear myself mumble grumpily before his laughter starts to fade out...

"Wake up! The plane's going down!"

My eyes snap open and I force myself up into an upright position, panic fueling me. It takes me a second to register the lie when I hear Kyle explode into laughter from beside me.

I glare at him accusingly, "You're not funny, man."

"I'm hilarious, boet," he only laughs louder.

If this is how all South Africans are then maybe I've made a huge mistake.

"Brother?" I question, taking in as much as I can. It's a challenge but I respect all the different cultures I've been seeing. South Africa is nothing like America, nothing short of it either.

Kyle nods. "By the time you go back to America, you'll be speaking Afrikaans fluently."

"Please stop waking me up," I reply, rubbing at my eyes. Returning back to America is the last thing on my mind.

"I was waking you up because we're about to land, dude," he tells me.

"Great," I say sarcastically, muffling a yawn. I have no energy anymore. Everything is an effort. Even at my worst, I've never felt like this before. I'm drained. I have nothing more to give.

My gaze flickers to the vast ocean that lies below the plane. I take in the sight. This is exactly why I love traveling.

"I'm so keen to step off this plane," Kyle voices his frustration to me as the plane begins to descend.

I nod. "Would be nice to stretch my legs. It's been a cramped flight," I admit.

I stay put in my seat once we land and wait for everyone else to file out first.

"Let's go!" Kyle elbows me when I make it clear that I'm reluctant to move.

I always end up getting stuck with irritating people.

I mutter a curse under my breath and stand up. I lazily swing my red backpack over my right shoulder, holding down the strap with one hand, in no hurry at all. I take after Kyle's lead and follow him out but stop short when I see three women waiting to get off of the plane. I pull Kyle out of the way by the collar of his shirt. I step back and gesture to the women to go first.

Kyle scoffs impatiently at me.

I shrug at him, unfazed.

"Thank you," the last of three ladies smiles at me, grateful. "This world needs more people like you."

I shake my head, averting my eyes to the floor. "No," I confess quietly, "it really doesn't." If she knew me, she'd take back that statement in a heartbeat.

She taps me on the shoulder as she passes me by, a frown now on her face, "Don't sell yourself short. Whatever mistakes you've made, you can come back from them. You can redeem yourself."

I don't say anything and as much as I want to forget, her words stick with me, leaving somewhat of an impact.

"You okay, brother?" Kyle asks when noticing my sudden silence.

I shrug it off and nod. "Yeah."

Kyle throws his arm around my shoulders as he forces me to move and leave the plane. "You always say you're fine but sometimes you seem anything but," he points out perceptively. "Most of the time, you're chill and easy-going but then, other times, you get this look on your face, the look you're currently sporting now."

"How observant of you," I easily dismiss his words. I glance around the small, coastal town -- Jeffrey's Bay, South Africa -- and breathe in the fresh air. I attempt to focus on the sound of distant waves crashing. However, my thoughts are running rampage again, amplifying a heartache that won't seem to go away, not even after two years have passed.

"Dude," Kyle stares at me calculatingly as he observes me with a watchful eye, "you're not happy."

"There's not much to be happy about." It's a lifetime struggle. It's unfortunate but true.

"Well, not if that's your perspective on things," he gives me another one of his infamous lectures. It reminds me of the days when my friend, Grey, would do the exact same thing to talk some sense into me or to talk me out of something.

I've been handed the short stick in life too many times and I'm tired of being stuck with it.

Kyle takes a second to analyze me. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing."

"C'mon. You know that I'm not going to stop asking."

When we first met, he was talkative right off the bat. I don't doubt that he won't stop asking.

I sigh and budge slightly, "A lot, man. A lot."

"A girl?" Kyle guesses.

A knife drives through my chest and I wince. I stubbornly walk on ahead. "I'm done talking."

"Girl it is," Kyle concludes and starts jogging after me.

My problems started long before the girl.

"Seriously, tell me," Kyle pleads. "What's her name?" he questions in his sheer persistence, overstepping all boundaries at this point.

"Doesn't matter," I say and attempt to focus my attention elsewhere. Kyle doesn't even know what he's doing to me. Reliving any memory with her makes it more difficult. I have to find a way to move forward.

"If you choke up on just saying her name then it does still matter to you."

"Shut up, already," I say bitterly. I don't want to feel like this anymore and he's making it that much worse.

His amicable grin falters.

I exhale, feeling guilty. "Sorry. I'm not in a good place right now," I apologize. "I'm lost. I don't know where to turn to or who to turn to anymore. I'm just trying my best here."

"I respect that but you can't expect to help others on this volunteer operation when you can't even help yourself," he tells me straightforwardly.

I reason with him, "I know that but--"

"You need to make the decision to see things for what they really are," he advises. "Drop the pessimistic lifestyle and open yourself up to the real beauty around you," he motions toward the tranquil sea and the seagulls flocking over it. "Life is good, brother, life is good."

I want to believe him but I know better. "You're wrong," I shake my head adamantly and force myself to keep walking. "For some people it is, for others...it just isn't."