Destiny Beach by Angelica Taylor

Destiny Beach

by Angelica Taylor

If I’d known that today was the day, I would’ve painted my toenails last night. Instead, I spend the evening curled up on the couch, stuffing my face with popcorn and watching a movie that was trying too hard to be funny. Not a nice image, and believe me, I’m disgusted with me too. But I had no idea that tomorrow – now today – was the day that would change my life. My first problem, therefore, is being clueless.

The second and much older problem is that I’m gorgeous. I know that doesn’t sound like a hardship, but when you’re a tall, shapely, bosomy blonde named Candy and have no interest whatsoever in stripping or acting, you feel like a living cliché, or at least I do. People point and kids ask for my autograph. I usually sign it Marilyn Monroe.

Thus longstanding problem number three: my appearance is a hindrance in the dating department. I mean, men who are rich don’t have to look moneyed unless they want to, but how do you hide a couple of 42 double D’s and a perfect face?

Still not convinced it’s a problem? Okay, imagine this: you’re sitting in a fancy restaurant with a guy who you believe actually likes you. He leans over and looks into your eyes and tells you how beautiful you are, how stunning, how sexy and on and on, yadda yadda, yadda. Then he recognizes someone across the restaurant and waves him over, and within seconds, it’s painfully obvious that he’s bragging. Though their conversation may be benign, what he’s really telling his buddy is I’m better than you are because, well, just look at her. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

And finally, there’s the supposedly endless range of guys I’ve dated since reaching puberty, all of whom I thought would be different from the last, but weren’t.

And now that you know my entire pathetic romantic history, back to the painted toenails. My pink toenail polish is the subject of my guy’s opening line, and how I’ll know he’s the one for me, according to the recurring dream I’ve been having for the last two years. He’ll say something about my pink toenails, though the comment changes every dream. Sometimes, he says something brainy, like how the juxtaposition of bright polish and pale surf is the perfect metaphor for the conflict between the artificial and natural worlds. Sometimes the words are nonsensical: “Cougars breathe pink toenails under the computer.” That was after some young brat at work – I’m sure he was 12 – thought he was complimenting me by saying I was one hot cougar and why didn’t I meet him at Merv’s Bar that night. Sometimes it’s simply, “I like your pink toenails.” A little unimaginative maybe but at least non cryptic and there are benefits to falling in love with a straight forward kind of guy according to my mother, god rest her soul.

Anyway, at midnight I staggered off to bed, putrid with popcorn butter, brainless entertainment, and self-pity, and in the early morning hours, the dream came again. However, this time instead of saying one of his vague statements, my dream man says, “Hey Pink, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I wake instantly. Tomorrow…

Tomorrow?

Tomorrow!

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Angelica Taylor is not a born islander, but she certainly has taken to the way of life, quickly becoming addicted to hiking ocean shores and strolling the beaches of Vancouver Island, preferably in the company of her husband. When not writing, hiking, or hanging out with her family, she can be found in various garden centers, collecting more treasures to add to her slowly expanding gardens. She hopes that Destiny Beach, her first romantic story, is the first of many.