the secret life of robbie hart

This was my cue to part, go on with my day and let him enjoy throwing the plane at another bystander. But I didn’t. Instead, I lingered.. and I’m not too sure why. Maybe I was tired of being alone with nothing but my thoughts that mixed in with the sound of waves crashing and drawing back to sea. “I might have a concussion, paper cut or two… but I’ll think I’ll make it,” I joked once more and laughed to myself. “I’m Luna, by the way.” Why did I introduce myself? It’s not like he needed my name for insurance reasons or something. It just sort of slipped.

I reach my hand out for her to shake, smiling. “Nice to meet you, I’m Robbie. Robbie Hart,” I say with a nod. I feel too much like a businessman. Who says their last name, nowadays? I pull back with a chuckle, licking my lips before looking around, searching for wherever she might have been originally. When I don’t see a dog or a boyfriend or anything like that, I look over and ask her a question, “You enjoying the day?” 

It made me think back to the fishing trips I took with my father and brother as a kid. It was the only time we all lived in harmony, and that’s probably because of the ocean. There’s something about it for everyone to enjoy, for everyone to admire. It’s hard to feel anything but happiness around it. So, I guess that’s why I wasn’t feeling so blue. Just a certain kind of warmth that the sun couldn’t give me.

I brought my old camera with a new thing of film inside and settled on sitting in the sand while taking random shots of the view. I figured I could develop them and make something out of the simple pictures- maybe put them in my scrap book or make something creative for Jay. She loved the beach more than I did. But my thoughts were suddenly elsewhere when I felt a somewhat sharp object ram right into my head. “What the..” I mumbled, reaching over to pick up a perfectly folded paper airplane. Even though it was paper, that sucker had a point. I looked all around me considering all the children on the beach seemed to be in the water, but that’s when my eyes landed on a man who seemed to be looking everywhere but at me. That made me want to mess with him, of course.

I got up and brushed the sand off my shorts before walking over to him. I smiled and pulled my glasses up to rest on my head before handing him the airplane. “Think this might belong to you,” I told him with a chuckle, “Great aim, by the way. I’ve been told my head makes a great landing strip.”

I haven’t met anyone significant over the past couple of weeks in New York. Those I’ve tried to befriend have been less than kind to me - probably something about that ‘locals being really mean to tourists’ thing, but I’m not a tourist. Am I? God. Either way, the last thing I want is to scare away someone who might actually be nice to me - but I’m afraid I already did. Other than the couple friends I made on my way to the train station, I’m as lonely as I’ve ever been. “Are you okay, by the way?” I ask, after having forgotten to earlier.