“Oh,” I say. “So you don’t have kids?”
“No, no,” he says quickly.
I get it now, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“And you live with Matty. You don’t still live with Darren. That was a while ago, right?”
“Exactly!” He flashes a grin, like I’ve solved some sort of mystery. “It was Darren’s ex’s house. We all lived there. And then I lived atmyex’s place, and her kid lived there and his friends would be over all the time. And then I moved out to Matty’s a couple of months before you got here.”
It’s starting to feel like a language all his own, a peculiar mix of nostalgia and daydreams.
Timmy’s stories flow around us like a stream, and I’m content to wade in it, letting his disjointed words wash over me. When he talks, there’s no need for anything to be clear or linear. It’s all part of the ride, part of the way he experiences life—a little chaotic, a little random, with memories and dreams just blending in together.
“Ever been swimming with the dolphins?” he asks, changing subjects entirely.
“No, but I’ve always wanted to,” I reply.
“Ah, that’s too bad. We’ll fix that,” he says, his own train of thought seemingly back in some ocean memory. “I’ve been a few times. What about surfing with a dog on the surfboard?”
I laugh. “No, I can’t say that I have.”
“Darren’s a champ at that. You’ll have to see it one day.”
I grin, picturing it in my head. “Sounds like a good time,” I reply, and he just beams, his eyes on the road but his mind clearly back in that memory.
Timmy’s words weave a world that doesn’t necessarily make sense or line up neatly, but it’s carefree, just like him. I won’t overanalyze it, although I’ll clearly need to seek clarity from time to time. It’s Timmy’s unique version of reality, one that’s endlessly colorful and unpredictable, even if a little confusing.
“I’m so glad that you’re not from like… the middle of America,” he says randomly. “That you have some knowledge of beach culture. That you can like… pronounce things here, native words. That you understand the meaning of how things work over here. I couldn’t bear to start from scratch with some basic Becky from Utah,” he laughs.
And I smile back. It really does seem serendipitous. He’s so patient with me when it comes to new words, taking the time to explain them and give examples of how things work in practice. But I do feel like I’m starting with a higher baseline than most, solely because of my own upbringing on an island with a similar culture to Sunset Cay. I never expected to find this in a partner, and it’s uniquely refreshing.
We pull up to the quarantine facility and I’m nervous. The wholepaperwork situation is a bit confusing. I have money orders, but I don’t know if they’re for the right amount. And I’m just worried there’s going to be some technicality where I can’t see my sweet baby Sabre. I miss him, his cuddles and his purrs.
At least I know the quarantine facility is nice—it’s just how the lady at the airport described, a little indoor-outdoor type situation where he can see mongoose run past, and of course he has other cats as neighbors, although they’re partitioned off so they can’t actually see each other.
We laugh when we get to Sabre’s ‘unit’, I guess you could call it.
Because right there, on the sign, it says:
Sabre. *Caution*.
“I wonderwhere he gets that from,” Timmy laughs, poking me on the arm.
“That’s my cat,” I laugh, proudly. He’s always been feisty with authority figures. And with me. “Sabre! You have visitors!” I call out, and he lets out a little meow in response and runs to the door.
“I’m going to make him feel comfortable around me super quick,” Timmy says. “Watch.”
He lies flat on his back, arms by his side, and I sit on the floor next to him.
Sabre circles him, sniffing and inspecting him from every angle.
“This is how we train dogs,” Timmy explains. “I’m doing this on his terms, making it clear I’m no threat.”
“Wow,” I say, impressed. “I’ve never seen this before. That’s so cool!”
Sabre hops up on his little bench and tucks his paws under himself. He watches Timmy, casually observing him. But he’s comfortable enough to be resting around him.
“See? He’s already starting to get comfortable with me,” says Timmy.