Page 7 of In the Middle of No(ah)where (Rockport Ridge #2)

Noah

I t's been a couple of weeks since the playdate at the community center, and Carlos and I have met a few nights to game and hang out. I enjoy his company and friendship and can't wait to be full-time roommates.

Mom said I could take the furniture from my bedroom, and I'm grateful.

It will save me money, and it will feel more like home.

She hasn't been home much, and I'm not sure where she's been spending her time.

We haven't spoken much since that afternoon in the kitchen.

I tried apologizing, but she didn't want to hear it.

It hurt my heart a little, but I told the truth.

She shouldn't take out her anger, that's aimed at Dad, on me.

Last night, after packing up a few of my LEGO creations, I was deep in the process of redesigning an area on Purin Island when a wave of anxiety crashed over me.

The pressure of my upcoming move and the uncertainty of my future threatened to overwhelm me.

It was the first time in over a year I had the urge to add a new mark to my forearm.

Using my fingernail, I scratched at the skin, ready to let the anxieties consume me.

Instead, I looked at the partially finished land on my screen, the flowers' vibrant colors and petals blowing in the virtual wind along the riverbank.

I continued designing, focusing on the color patterns that led to the Zen bridge, which I finally finished after multiple quests to earn enough money.

The act of creating, of immersing myself in the world of my imagination, helped to control the storm building inside me.

The anxieties didn't disappear, but they were muted, their sharp edges softened by the creative process.

This creative process hasn't been a distraction from reality but a coping mechanism—a way of transforming chaos into something beautiful and profound.

The virtual world became a canvas for my fears, a place where I could transform into something positive.

It became a sanctuary where I could freely express myself without fear of judgment and simply be. ..me.

The rhythmic whoosh of water filtering through massive tanks brings me back to the present.

At the same time, the soft hum of the fluorescent aquarium lights fills the air.

Since it's my day off today, I decided to explore the local aquarium.

It's not as big as you'd find in a larger city, but it has enough unique sea life to make the day entertaining and informative.

With my upcoming move looming in the shadows of my mind, I needed an escape. This wasn't my typical escape, but I wanted to get out of the house while Mom was going through my dad's things. I didn't need to be there for that and potentially another target.

I needed a change of scenery, and the hypnotic sway of jellyfish and the intentional glide of sharks promised a temporary reprieve.

I wander through the various areas of the aquarium, taking numerous pictures and letting the cool, damp air cling to my skin.

The gentle pulse of the underwater world soothes my frayed nerves.

I stop at a tank showcasing vibrant fish; their movements are mesmerizing and graceful.

They're oblivious to the anxieties of the outside world.

The Little Mermaid had it terribly wrong.

Nobody would want to be part of this world.

I smile at my dumb joke as I move into the next room.

My feet are cemented, and I'm stuck. I squint my eyes as if that will help me get a better look at the man standing in front of a tank with a clipboard.

He's as tall as me, about six feet, and his brown hair is styled differently than when I saw him at the center.

I know I signed a confidentiality paper, but am I allowed to say hi?

He makes a few marks on the page before pulling out a plastic container, dipping it into the tank's water, and capping it. I stand here, staring at Marcus. I should turn around and leave before he sees me.

What's he doing here?

I remember his eyes, the color of warm honey.

They're focusing on the jellyfish, a serene smile playing on his lips.

What's he thinking about? His white polo contrasts with his tanned skin, and the nice-fitting jeans make my thoughts instantly move into unwholesome territory; his whole appearance radiates an easygoing confidence.

My heart bangs a frantic rhythm against my ribcage. This is different .

What if he's only into age play scenes, and it doesn't spill over into the rest of his life?

What if I made a fool of myself, and he remembers how I acted?

Maybe my parents were right, and I should grow up.

He isn't some animated islander that I can visit in my virtual world; he's real.

This is a real person, and the thought of approaching him sends a wave of panic through me.

What if the chaos in my head is too much for him?

The familiar urge to regress, to retreat to the safety of my nine-year-old self, is almost overwhelming. Nine-year-old me wouldn't hesitate. Nine-year-old me would have bounced over, a whirlwind of enthusiasm and clumsy charm. But eighteen-year-old me feels paralyzed by my insecurities.

I watch Marcus for a while, my heart rapping in my chest. He remains oblivious to my presence, wholly absorbed in the hypnotic beauty of the jellyfish.

He dips the plastic thing in the tank again.

Is he testing the water? His peaceful demeanor feels like a beacon calling me home in the storm of my emotions.

The idea of approaching him feels like I'm about to jump off a cliff—terrifying.

Part of me is screaming to run, to hide amongst the crowd. But another part, a smaller, quieter voice, is urging me forward, whispering that this might be a chance, a chance to connect with someone who understands my internal battle, someone who enjoys giving guidance, as he said.

I take a chance and step forward as the jellyfish pulse in captivity. Their silent movement mirrors my own. Marcus stands up straight, squaring his shoulders, and turns slightly, catching my eye, and a small smile flickers across his lips. It's kind and gentle.

For a moment, our eyes lock onto one another. His eyes are filled with a gentle warmth that somehow manages to cut through the layers of my anxieties. At this moment, the pressure of everything I'm struggling with seems to fade into the background.

It's just him, and me, and the jellyfish.

He's the first to break the silence. "Beautiful, aren't they?" he softly murmurs, gesturing towards the translucent invertebrates.

Words seem trapped somewhere between my heart and my mouth. I swallow. With a shaky voice, I respond. "Yes. They're fascinating."

The conversation that follows is hesitant, marked by awkward silence and nervous laughter.

But as we talk, I feel the weight of my anxieties begin to lift.

Marcus listens intently, his honey-colored eyes never leaving mine.

He asks questions, not in an intrusive or judgmental manner, but genuinely curious.

He avoids asking about my future plans or college.

He doesn't even ask what I do for a living.

He simply listens to me talk about moving in with Carlos soon and a little bit about my home life.

He never interrupts and lets me lead the conversation.

For the first time in a long time, I feel seen.

And as we slowly move through the space, a slight, almost imperceptible shift happens––the beginning of something. A nervous excitement, a tremor of hope, replaced my anxiety.

Marcus turns in his badge and clipboard to one of the workers, and then it's just the two of us.

"Would you like some company for the rest of your visit, or would you prefer to have some alone time?" he asks. I think about it because I was here alone to clear my head. But I enjoy the way I feel when he's with me.

"If you don't have any plans, I'd like you to stay," I tell him truthfully.

"Good. I'd like that too." He offers me another smile, and we make our way to the lower level of the aquarium. One wall is an elaborate tank filled with various sea creatures. A small shark swims by, and I'm fascinated by it. It's about four feet long, and its body is a purplish-gray color.

We find a bench to sit in silence and enjoy the serenity of the quiet motions.

"How long are you in town for?" I ask Marcus, breaking the silence between us.

"Only for today. I will be heading home tomorrow morning.

I'm completing my master's degree, and I encountered an issue with some of the data I collected.

It wasn't adding up for some reason, so I asked the aquarium director if I could come back in for a few hours and rerun some of the tests on the PH and salt levels in a few of the tanks. "

Ah, that's what he was doing with that little plastic thing. He continues to talk about his research, but it's all over my head. He's passionate about it. I wonder if I will find something to be just as passionate about someday, other than extraterrestrials.

"Watching all these unique creatures makes me wonder what else is living in the ocean," I tell Marcus, and he grins like he knows something I don't.

"There are always new sea creatures being discovered." He responds but keeps his eyes on the tank.

"A couple of years ago, I found a book in the school's library about mermaids. When I flipped through it, I found links to videos and other scientific research. Do…do you think mermaids exist?" I ask and look down at my shoes. I can't believe I just asked him that.

"I saw the same documentary when it first came out. I believe that anything is possible, and there is a whole world under the surface that we are unaware of."

I like that Marcus doesn't make me feel silly for believing in otherworldly creatures.

The conversation between us glides as smoothly as the jellyfish.

We discover our mutual love for science fiction, bond over our shared passion for Star Wars, and even tease each other with quotes from our favorite films. He speaks animatedly about his favorite authors and how he misses reading for pleasure, given the large amount of reading required for his schoolwork while pursuing his degree.

I also discover that he's twenty-eight. The more he opens up, the more I find myself relaxing in the warmth of his presence.

As the afternoon progresses, we talk about everything and nothing, finding common ground in the vast expanse of our unique worlds.

Any fear from earlier has been replaced by exhilarating hope.