Free Heart on a Shoestring by Marilyn Grey Page B

all night talking in the lifeguard chair and kissed as the sun rose. He’s even British. You know how I love a nice accent.”
    “Don’t get all Ella on me.”
    I laughed. “Anyway, he contacted me. Wants to meet.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “It means sometimes you have to sit back and let the people you love make mistakes.”
    “Well, thanks.”
    “Derek is a good guy. You’ll regret losing him.”
    “I’m never going to lose him. He’s my friend. You can’t break up with a friend.”
    I hung up with her and tried to convince myself. Derek didn’t want a girlfriend anyway. We kissed, yes. We had good conversations, yes. I think I even enjoyed myself, but that didn’t change the fact that Derek was a turtle hiding in an unbreakable shell. I didn’t trust guys like that. Whatever he kept hidden I honestly didn’t know if I could bear hearing it. It seemed bad. As a friend, I could handle it. Help him. Love him and be a shoulder to cry on. As a girlfriend? I didn’t know. That was the biggest problem.
    Not knowing.
    My phone beeped again. Another text.
    Derek: Liz, did you get the envelope I put in your bag?
    Me: What envelope?
    Derek: Look for it.
    Me: Oh, found it here. Opened it just now. You didn’t have to do that.
    Derek: Go buy yourself some new clothes whenever you stop limping around.
    Me: Well, I guess I’ll accept since you threw out most of my stuff, but only this once. I still haven’t asked how you have stashes of money to throw away.
    Derek: I never throw it away.
    Me: Ok. Fair enough. Thanks for the trip. I learned a lot and I really appreciate it.
    Derek: Glad to hear it.
    Me: A guy from my past texted me today. He wants to get together. Should I?
    The glowing screen didn’t beep. I waited for the little dots to show up on my iPhone, saying he was responding, but they didn’t show up. I started to type, erased, started again, erased, then finally settled with a simple text.
    Me: You don’t even want to get married, Derek.
    Derek: I don’t, but if I did ... it would be with you.
    Me: I can’t marry someone who hides his past. I’ve spent my entire life being a savior to guys like that. I don’t have the energy anymore.
    Derek: I’m not looking for a savior.
    Me: This won’t work. It just can’t work. Let’s stay friends, okay? You date other people, if you ever want to. And I will. That way we can always be friends and never say goodbye forever.
    Derek: I will never say goodbye forever. Not to you. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. This isn’t like me. I don’t even know if I’ve ever felt this way before. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.
    Me: You’ve never felt what way before?
    Derek: Never mind. Goodnight, Lizzy. Good luck with your guy.
    Something about our conversation irritated me, but then again that was typical of us. Another reason I couldn’t bring myself to be with him. What if we spent our entire lives bickering? What if we started our first night as husband and wife by arguing about what kind of wine to drink? I needed someone more like me. Someone full of spunk and energy. Someone who drank deep from the well of life and relished every moment, every experience, as though it may be the last. Derek taught me a lot. I was thankful for him. And for the first time in a long time I felt relieved of the heavy burden I carried so long. But I couldn’t make him happy. Not until he found happiness alone first.
    I rubbed my head and turned off my phone. The darkness reminded me of him. Our last night on that island. He held me the entire night. Woke me up with gentle kisses on my eyelids. I couldn’t love him, though. What if he ended up like my father? Like a creaky old room in an abandoned house, void of character and hauntingly stoic, hidden....
    I shook the thoughts away, watched them drift into the darkness and out of sight, then closed my eyes and imagined Oliver kissing me on the lifeguard chair as