I groan and toss the covers aside so I can locate the source of all the noise. It sounds like it’s coming from the dresser, so I shuffle over to it.
It’s my new phone. I wipe sleep from my eyes so I can read the screen. It’s only 5:59 a.m.
An alarm is set on my phone. It says: Go watch the sunrise.
That’s all the alert says.
I cancel the alarm and the room falls silent again. I glance behind me, toward the balcony.
Samson.
It better be worth it.
I grab the comforter off my bed and wrap myself in it. I go out onto the balcony and look at Samson’s balcony. It’s empty.
I sit down in one of the chairs and pull the covers up to my chin. I stare out over the dark horizon. To the east, there’s just the smallest sliver of sun peeking out over the ocean. To the north, the skies are dark and occasionally burst with lightning. It looks like a storm is rolling in, threatening to snuff out the light.
I sit on my balcony and stare at the sun as it slowly illuminates the peninsula. I listen to the sound of the waves as they wash onto the beach. Thunder rolls in the distance while seagulls begin to chirp nearby.
I’m in a complete trance for several minutes as the wind begins to pick up. As bright as the sunrise began, it slowly darkens as the storm moves closer. The skies swallow up every hue of color that was attempting to burst through, and after a while, everything is a muted gray.
That’s when the rain starts. I’m protected by a roof over the balcony, and the wind isn’t extreme right now, so I remain outside, watching as everything that started out hopeful just fifteen minutes ago slowly turns to gloom.
I wonder if Samson knew there would be a storm rolling in with the sunrise today. I glance over at his house and he’s standing in his doorway, leaning against the doorframe, holding a cup of coffee. He isn’t looking at the rain or the ocean or the sky.
He’s looking at me.
Seeing him watching me stirs something inside of me that I don’t want to be stirred. I stare back at him for a moment, wondering if he wakes up every morning to watch the sunrise or if he just wanted to see what I would do about the alarm he set on my phone.
Maybe he actually appreciates the sunrise. Is he one of the few who doesn’t take this view for granted?
I think there’s a chance I might be wrong about him. I might have judged him a little too soon. But then again, what’s it matter if I am wrong? Things between us are awkward and I don’t see that changing unless one of us has a personality transplant.
I break our stare and walk back inside. I crawl back into bed.
I think I’ll just stay here.
TEN
I’ve spent the majority of the last three days in my bedroom. The rain coupled with the week I’ve had made me not want to face the world at all. Plus, this bedroom is becoming my favorite place because I feel secure here, encased by these four walls. I have an unobstructed view of the ocean, a television I’ve finally figured out how to work, and my own bathroom.
I really could stay in this room for the rest of my time here and be content.
The issue is everyone else who lives in this house.
My father has checked on me multiple times. I told him I had a headache and my throat was sore and it hurt to talk, so he just pops in every now and then and asks if I’m feeling okay.
Sara has been bringing me things. Food, water, medicine I don’t really need. At one point yesterday, she crawled into my bed and watched Netflix with me for an hour before leaving to go on a date with Marcos. We didn’t speak much, but I surprisingly didn’t mind her company.
She has a good energy. Sometimes I feel like a black hole around her. Like maybe I’m sucking all the life out of her by just being in her innocent presence.
I’ve kept track of Samson’s routine more than I care to admit. I don’t know why I’m so curious about him. His routine intrigues me, though.
I’ve left his alarm on my phone because the sunrises seem to have become a thing with us. He’s out on his own balcony every morning. We watch the world wake up alone, yet together. Each time I make my way back into my bedroom, we make brief eye contact. He doesn’t speak to me, though.
He’s either not a morning person, or he’d rather appreciate the sunrise in silence. Either way, it feels intimate somehow. Like we have this secret daily meeting no one else knows about, even though we never speak during said meeting.