He even brings over potted plants from Matty's place to give the balcony some personality.
“This was my best friend Darren’s mom’s plant originally,” he explains as he carries a massive pot to the truck. “It’s full of coconut and succulents and banana and ti leaves—one of the most beautiful leaves on the planet if you ask me. You’re going to love it when things start growing bigger. It’ll be like a real little jungle on your balcony.”
Looking around the apartment at all the shopping bags and piles of items, I feel a little overwhelmed, but exhilarated. I have a rough idea of where things are going to go, but spatial planning isn’t my forté.
In fact, when I move to a new place, I usually draw a diagram and send it to Paulo because he’s much better at it than me. But this time, I don’t need to consult with Paulo, because I have Timmy.
“I have plans for this place!” Timmy says excitedly. “Just wait until I have it all set up. Do you trust me?” He looks at me eagerly, expectantly.
“Yes, I trust you!” I laugh.
He beams and runs over to kiss me. “I love being around you so much.”
“I love being around you, too,” I grin, as he races back to the corner of the room.
It’s not lost on me that strong language has been exchanged so soon, but it’s exciting and feels so good and real that I love saying it to him, and love hearing him say it to me. It’s not like we’re actually saying ‘I love you’, after all.
“The desk is going to go here so you can see the ocean while you’re typing, as well as the mountains,” he says excitedly. “But I’ll put that together tomorrow. And then the bed will go here,” he gestures to the spot next to where he’s planning on putting the desk, “so we’ll still be able to see the ocean lying down.”
“Okay!” I say, trying to visualize everything as he explains it. This is a much better layout than one I would have come up with myself.
He works away while I continue to unpack kitchen things and load up the dishwasher and washing machine, and within an hour or two, he says, “Ta da! What do you think?”
He shows me around, and it might be a small apartment, but he’s done such a thoughtful, amazing job.
As promised, he’s saved space so that, while sitting at my desk once it’s assembled, I’ll have the most gorgeous view of the beach and the famous mountain, as well as the hills off in the distance.
From the bed, we can see surfers way out at the break at one of his favorite surfing beaches.
“What do you think?” he asks again, watching my reaction closely as if I’m a competition judge about to give him a score for his efforts.
“Oh my gosh. It’s just amazing. Seriously, Timmy,” I say, hugging him tight and tilting my head up to kiss him. “Thank you so much. I feel a lot better seeing this starting to look like a real apartment, a real living space.”
“I’m really good at stuff like this,” he explains proudly. “And I’m so happy to help you. I figure we’ll be spending a lot of time here, so we may as well have it set up as perfect as we can get it.”
We get changed and head down to the pool area where he immediately launches himself in, full Superman-style, creating a splash big enough to draw the attention of a few onlookers. He stays under for a while, and then bursts from the water, laughing, unbothered by the stares and enjoying every bit of the fun he’s making of himself—and for me. This free spirit of his is contagious, and I feel lighter than I have in years, as if the weight of my previous worries has drifted away with the ripples he’s made in the pool.
Later, he takes me to a trendy but laid-back bar across the road with swinging chairs—a feature I’m particularly weak for. He snaps photos of me as I sway, and when he proudly shows them to me, teaching me how he adjusted the light and focus on his phone’s camera, I notice he’s captured some kind of radiance in me that I’d almost forgotten I had.
The bartender knows him, and we all chat away like old friends while I sip on a daiquiri made with local rum, and Timmy suggests we share a fresh smoked local marlin dip, and I realize this is the exact life I envisioned—only it’s better because he’s here. After a leisurely snack and cocktail session, we head back to the apartment.
With everything now unpacked, Timmy takes the Baby Shark toy and cuddles with it, beaming as he wraps it in his muscular, tattooed arms.
I snap a few pictures as he grins and rolls around on the bed, looking ridiculous, this giant 39-year-old man with a massive yellow-and-white stuffed toy.
“My baby shaaaaaaark!” He says, grinning, wrapping his arms around it. “Thank you so much for getting this for me. I love it so much!”
After a day full of laughter, adventure, and little discoveries, I hop onto the bed beside him and we lay side-by-side for a bit. My life here is chaotic, it’s unexpected, it’s full of soft lilac, and it’s completely Timmy.
And, like a gentleman, he goes home, promising to pick me up again early the next day.
20
TRUST THE CHARM, IGNORE THE EDGE
Iwake to the sound of the ocean, its breeze drifting in, carrying with it the scent of salt and plumeria, filling the small apartment with a sense of promise. I pull an oracle card from my deck. DREAM.
It feels like the universe is nodding in agreement. After years of stress, corporate drudgery, and making compromises that chipped away at my soul, I’m finally free—living the dream I’ve whispered about to myself on restless nights. No more firing tons of people over Zoom. No more forcing myself into places where I never really felt I belonged. Now, it will be just me and Sabre, the ocean, my writing, and, hopefully, someone to share it all with.