Page 13 of Fighting the Tide
We stand in the spot where we both branch off and she exhales again, her shoulders moving with the motion.“Thank you, Nolan,” she whispers.“I just don’t want to be alone right now.”
“It’s all good, Avery.”I give her shoulder a squeeze.“I’ll see you later.”
She nods and walks toward her house, her ponytail swinging, but even that feels slow and sad, not the usual pep her tendrils usually have.I never want my heart broken, I never want to go through that pain.I stand on that narrow pathway, watching as Avery slips inside her house, and make a pact with myself.Love is not worth it.It only serves to slip rose-colored glasses over your eyes for a short period of time, and when you least expect it, they’re ripped from your face and you’re forced to stare into the blinding light of the sun.I refuse to have my life controlled by love.
It's not that I'm jaded, because that would mean I would have had to experience the emotion and then experience the loss right after, and that’s not the case.I’m not jaded, I’m logical, and even though finding someone to spend my life with would be worthwhile, I don’t want to lose who I am.I won’t give over a piece of myself to someone and never receive it back in the same condition, but maybe I could find a companion, someone whose path is similar to mine, and we can enjoy life without the pressure of being in love.
I head for home and I’m thankful when I reach the end of our driveway and hear no arguing or screaming.The front door is slightly open when I get there, and I let it swing inward as I pop my head into the cottage.I’m not alarmed, sometimes Mom leaves the front and back doors open for a thorough breeze.“Mom?”I call out.
“In here.”Her voice sounds weak and a bit strained, and I rush inside, dropping my bag to the floor to find her sitting at the dining table with her head in her hands.
“Mom, what is it?”I crouch down in front of her as she lifts her face, giving me a small smile.
“The compressor in the fridge has given out.We need to buy a new one, but the part is about fifty dollars and I don’t have that right now.”I turn my head to look at our small fridge, the size of it barely able to hold the food we need in a week, and then I drop my head as I stand, knowing she would have had the money had she not been giving me the tips all week.
“Take the fifty dollars I have and get the compressor.”I go to the couch and reach under it to pull out my lockbox, thankful that my father hasn’t discovered it yet.I bring it to her at the table as she shakes her head.
“No, Nolan, you need that.We’ll figure something else out.”She pushes the box away and stands from the chair.I don’t miss the embarrassment on her face at the thought of taking money from her child.“We always figure it out.”
“Mom, I want you to take it.”I open the box and hand her the bills.“I’ll figure something else out.Don’t worry about college, I’ll get there somehow.”
Her hand shakes as she takes the money, a tear slipping down her cheek as her jaw tenses.Her fingers crumple the bills into her palm as she grits her teeth.“Damn that man.Damn him for taking everything from us.”
That’s how I know she’s getting to her wit’s end, because most of the time she’s defending him to me.I guess having to take money from your son because your husband spent every cent you’ve made on alcohol will really put things into perspective.
“It’s okay, Mom.”I slip my hand into hers.“Let’s go clean the Easthams’ house and tomorrow we’ll go get that compressor.”
“You’re such a good boy, Nolan.”Her hand squeezes mine and I can feel the thin bones in each of her fingers, her frailty making me worry.“You make me so very proud.”
“Thanks, Mom.”I lean in and brush a kiss to her temple then lead us both out of the house.We’re already running late and the last thing we need is to put the only job supporting us into jeopardy.
The drive to Brooke’s house is quiet, with my mother spending most of it in silence and looking out the window.I can’t comfort her about the man who’s deceived her; it would be useless.He needs to be the one to step up and change, and realize that she’s had faith in him to do that for the past seventeen years.Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s capable, and not to be the-cup-is-half-empty sort of guy, but I don’t think he’ll ever change.Not for my mother, not for me, and certainly not for himself.His erratic and violent behavior has been getting worse over the years, but luckily for him, it hasn’t extended toward my mother.The minute he tries to lay a hand on her, I will kill him myself, and I think he knows that.He’s never been violent toward either of us, but this disease is so unpredictable and I can’t be sure it would never happen.
Brooke’s car isn’t in the driveway when we pull up, and I can’t really decide if that’s a good thing or not.I did want to see her and speak to her without having students walking around us, but just like I told Avery to move on from Monica, there’s a part of me that also thinks distancing myself from Brooke would be the most sensible thing to do while still keeping an eye on her like I promised.I consider myself a sensible type of guy.
We get inside the house and I’m handed the bucket, Mom giving me the same look I’ve been given for the past two weeks.You know what to do.I take the stairs one at a time, my fingers trailing along the shining oak banister as I take in the paintings lining the walls.Somehow I missed it the first time I was here.Brooke’s parents are pretty well-known here in Chatham, Mrs.Eastham is a sculptor and has a studio in town where she often auctions off her famous pieces, and Mr.Eastham is a famous screenwriter who spends most of his time in New York.Our town is pretty proud of the both of them, being that they’ve both brought so much recognition to Chatham, but when I get to the top of the stairs, my gaze turns toward Brooke’s room.I wonder how much they sacrificed to have it all?Was it at the expense of their daughter?Do they even know her?
I follow the same routine I did the last time I was here and clean the bathrooms, the office, and when I get to Brooke’s bedroom, I stand outside the door and rap my knuckles against the wooden slab.My stomach swirls with anxiety as my heart crashes against my rib cage.Her car wasn’t out front, so I don’t think she’s home, but I can feel the same sort of frantic energy billowing up around me that I did that night on the beach.It’s as if something is tugging on that connection I feel between us, trying to pull me toward her.
I open the door, letting it swing into the room while I stand on the threshold, calling out her name.“Brooke?”There’s no water running this time, no music playing, and her room is nearly immaculate.It’s almost like she hasn’t slept in here at all.I step inside and run the cloth over her dresser and side tables, collecting the dust that’s gathered in a week.I straighten her already-made bed and then head to the bathroom.It’s clean inside with the sink looking polished and the shower clear and without soap scum.Again, I’m tugged on, a force begging me to see something I’m missing.It’s clear she’s not in this room and probably not even in this house, so I quickly wipe down the counters and the shower stall, refold her towels and leave her room.
Mom is still in the kitchen when I pass by, not bothering to look up from the oven as I open the patio door and step out into the pool area.I can’t explain it, just like I couldn’t explain it last Friday night when I was basically propelled across the beach toward the lighthouse.This time, my sight is on the pool house on the other side of the fifty-foot pool.With one foot in front of the other, I slowly move toward the pool house, its size similar to the cottage my parents and I live in.I listen as I approach, but I don’t know what’s making me more wary, the silence or the stillness.
It could be because Brooke isn’t even in there, and this feeling I have is just that, a silly niggling that won’t leave me alone, but that thought soon dissipates when I stand at the door and smell the scent of marijuana from the other side.Someone’s in there smoking, and my mother said both the Easthams are in New York for a movie premiere.
I open the door and instantly I’m bombarded by a thick cloud of smoke.“How did I know it would be you?Get your ass in here and close the door, you’ve just broken my hot box.”Brooke’s irritation has me stepping into the pool house instead of just shutting the door and going back inside the house to help my mother finish cleaning.Yet again, I lose all common sense when I find this girl in front of me.
“Why are you in here smoking all this weed by yourself?”I wave my hand in front of my face and slip my sweater up and over my nose as her laugh bounces off the four walls around us.Finally, I find her laid out in the middle of the floor, with a large joint in her hand, in just a bikini.It’s a little red number, the color setting off the tone of her skin and displaying the toned planes of her stomach.I take a quick look around the room and see that she’s closed off every door and window, boxing herself into a small six-by-six area to indeedhot boxherself.
“Don’t you know what today is?”she sneers as smoke billows from between her lips.“Come on, take one guess.”
“March 27th?”My words are muffled by my sweater, but she hears me because she nods and then waves for me to continue.“And it’s Friday?”
“I can’t even be mad at you, Nolan Sears.”She cackles then drags on that joint again before exhaling it out with another dry chuckle.“I can’t fault you for what you don’t know.It’s my birthday today.I’m seventeen years old and I’m alone.”
“Shit.”I let my eyes sink shut as I absorb the information, and once again a feeling of guilt nearly bowls me over.“Why don’t you put that out and we can like… talk or something?”I sound like a pathetic loser.The last thing this girl wants to do is talk, especially when her parents have left her here by herself, on her birthday no less.When I think back over today, I realize she hadn’t been at school at all, and why would she be?
“No, thank you very much.I would love nothing more than to lay here and smoke this joint, then stuff my face and do it all again.”She tips her head to look up at me and I’m shocked to see the whites of her eyes are nearly red.If I were to wager a bet, I would say that Brooke has been doing this all day.
