Page 2 of Tide Over

I wasn’t the only one who wanted to live here.

And now I’m here, alone.

As my eyes open and land on the colourful houses once more, my heart beats faster and dread flows through me. The noise of the busy street seems to grow louder as the passing traffic and happy chatter from people on the sidewalk echoes in my head so loudly it’s almost painful.

I tightly close my eyes again and rub a hand over my face. “Fuck,” I mutter, leaning forward to press my forehead against the steering wheel.

Then I look down at the rental application in my hand, crumple it up into a ball, and let it fall to my feet.

I can’t do this. I don’t deserve it. Not after the mistake I’ve made that cost me everything.

Without another thought, I put my truck in drive and find myself back on the highway. I have no idea where I’m going, but I know I can’t stay in Halifax.

Ishouldgo home.

I should go to Inverness. I should see my parents. But I can’t bring myself to do it. They don’t even know yet that I left Calgary and quit my job in the oil sands. Because if they found out whereI was going to work now, I don’t know how well they would take it.

The weight in my chest grows heavier as Halifax disappears behind me, and the pain and guilt I carry every day surges to the surface. I deserve these feelings… but I’m also desperate to escape them. I don’t know where I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to be doing, or how to outrun this pain.

The exit for South Shore comes into view, and a voice somewhere inside me urges me to take it. I just drove across Canada, barely stopping the entire way here with a desperate need to get away from the reminders of my mistakes and the loss that broke me.

But I somehow ended up in Nova Scotia. Where the good memories of my childhood and my family, and the reminders of everything I could have had, hurts just as much.

I need to keep running.

Before I know it, I’m taking the exit to South Shore. And I keep driving in the complete opposite direction of home, taking myself further and further away from everything and everyone I know I should be facing.

I just can’t do it yet.

TWO

“You’ve gotto be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath as I read over the slip from the buyer’s station.

“What?” Mitch asks, peering over my shoulder.

I lift the slip so he can see how much we were paid for the eighteen hundred pounds of lobster we caught this morning. It’s almost a two dollar per pound decrease from yesterday.

“Fuck,” he says, his features twisting in disgust. “I say we go back to the Frayed Knot tomorrow. They usually buy at a higher rate.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, shoving the slip into my pocket. Who knows what tomorrow will bring… but it better not be another decrease.

We head over to our boat, where the rest of my crew have finished loading up the buckets, bait, and ice we bought for tomorrow.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say as I hop into the boat and head to the wheelhouse. As I start up the engine, the crew happily jumps into the boat after me, and I try not to let my frustration dampen their mood. We had a great catch today, and I should also be happy about that. Catches have been plentiful lately, but that also means the demand is lower. And a lower demand equals adrop in price. Which usually wouldn’t be a problem, but the cost of fuel, bait, rope, lumber, and everything else I need to keep this boat running is skyrocketing. So the more we catch, the more I have to spend on repairing the wear and tear on the equipment.

It’s all just a vicious circle…

I steer the boat into the marina and pull up to our spot at the dock. The crew jumps out as I kill the engine, but as I grab a rope, Sarah yanks it from my hand.

“We got this,” she says, kneeling down to tie the boat to the dock. “You go. Your sister is going to be livid if you’re late. Again.”

I check my watch and wince, because I already am late. “Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

As I head down the wharf towards my truck, I wave to a few other boats pulling in and pass Sheila, the marina manager.

“Good haul today?” she asks, stopping outside her office.

“Yup,” I say, nodding at her and continuing to walk by.

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