Page 102 of PSYCHOlogical

“I hate it.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

I nodded. “It’s not for me. Not what I was thinking it’d be, anyway.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m a woman,” she said. “We tend to go with the flow.”

“I don’t want you to ‘go with the flow’, I want you to have a voice.”

She kicked a stone from the edge of the wooden slat into the water. “I’ll do my best.”

Change wasn’t something I accepted well. I suspected Val was the same way. This wasn’t going to be easy for either of us, and I knew it. It was, however, a necessary step in our recovery from our past.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat and head to Myrtle Beach,” I said.

She looked up. “Sounds good.”

“It’s an hour and a half drive.” I slipped my arm over her shoulder and turned around. “We’ll have time to look at a few houses if we like it.”

After lunch, we drove to Myrtle Beach. Standing on Ocean Boulevard, I shifted my eyes from the ocean to the homes and storefronts that were positioned behind me. I don’t know what I expected, but whatever it was, Myrtle Beach wasn’t it.

“Thoughts?” I asked.

“It’s dirty. I don’t like it.”

“Late dinner in Charleston?” I asked. “It’s two hours away.”

She smiled. “Sure.”

A somber drive to Charleston followed. The excitement I’d allowed to build within me was fading fast. Short of serenity, I had no idea what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want a beachfront condo above a bar on a street littered with empty beer bottles from the previous night’s late-night antics of a group of fraternity brothers.

It was dark when we got to Charleston. Although I felt much better about Charleston’s offerings than the previous two places we’d stopped, I knew it wasn’t for me. It did, however. seem the further we got from Virginia the more attractive the landscape became. It wasn’t attractive enough, though. At least not yet.

Val picked at her fish. “It’s nice here,” she said without looking up. “It’s clean, anyway.”

I pinched the tail from the end of a shrimp and set it aside. “I don’t like it.”

She met my gaze. “At all?”

I shook my head. “I don’t even think we need to waste any time here. It’s not what I’m looking for.”

She let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Okay.”

I chuckled. “I wish you were more comfortable speaking your mind.”

“I’m not sure what I want.” She smiled and then poked a bite of fish in her mouth. “When I see it, I’ll know. And, when I know, I’ll speak my mind, don’t worry.”

“I’d like to find a house in the perfect location that needs a lot of work. It would make it more affordable, and we could personalize it. Make it our own.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

With that in mind, I drove until two am. A late-night cancellation allowed us to get a room in one of Daytona Beach, Florida’s finer beachfront hotels.

While Val removed her makeup, I showered. Frustrated at our lack of progress for the day, I gazed blankly at the ceiling while Val took a shower. Soon, she climbed beneath the blankets and rested her head on my chest.