Page 61 of Fighting the Tide
I leave my coffee cup on the counter and grab my keys, heading out of the house in time to get to the station for my final filming.Once a week, I sit behind a desk with two others as we discuss the prior week’s sports events, giving our opinions or predictions, and sometimes share a few experiences of our own.That’s been my routine for the last ten years, and I have to admit, I enjoy everything I do.
As always, the drive into the station is tedious as I navigate through New York City’s traffic, and as soon as I arrive, I’m ushered inside into a makeup chair as a few people fuss over my appearance.A lint roller runs along the shoulders of my suit, someone straightens my tie, and two others smooth out the skin on my face and brush my hair into tousled waves on top of my head.
At thirty-two years old, I’ve embraced aging.I’m not like a few of the other men who pump their faces with Botox to maintain that mid-twenties look.The most I’ll do is dye the hair at my temples because I’m not ready to be a silver fox just yet.Maybe in a few years, I’ll let that bit of vanity go and step into my George Clooney era.
My cell phone begins to ring in my pocket, reminding me that I need to put it on do-not-disturb before I go on air.I get out of my seat as everyone’s done with me and pull the phone from my breast pocket, seeing Cassie’s name blinking on the screen.We don’t usually call each other during work hours, but I know she feels today is an exception.I swipe it and put the phone to my ear.“Hello?”
“I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes.”She sounds frantic and a little out of breath as I try to search my memory for something we were supposed to do and come up blank.
“Why are you going to my house?”I ask, the confusion in my tone clear.
“Nolan, your father just died,” she says into the phone, her words filled with shock.“Are you okay?”
“He didn’tjustdie, Cassie.They don’t know how long he was dead for.He’s probably in the ground already by now, so I’m not sure why you’re freaking out and heading to my house, especially when you know it’s Friday morning.It’s my day to film at the studio.”I tap into my quickly diminishing well of patience to keep my tone even and not make her feel like the idiot she’s acting.
“You’re working today?For Christ’s sake, Nolan, your father is dead.We need to get back to Chatham and sort out his funeral, then we need to clean that cottage—” I pull the phone from my ear as she continues blabbering, and press the red circle on my screen, ending the call and once again giving myself some peace.I quickly scroll through and put the phone on do-not-disturb and slip it back into my pocket.
I’d like to say this will teach her the boundaries of our situation, but we’ve been here before and we’ll be here again.
“That’s a wrap!”
The forced smile falls from my face and brings instant relief to the muscles that are holding it in place.I work hard to maintain a certain persona for the viewers, one of a charismatic man with a warm and friendly demeanor because that’s what keeps up the ratings.No one would want to watch a cold and distant, middle-aged man who looks like he would rather eat glass than laugh at another stupid football joke.
As soon as I walk off set, I feel a familiar buzz working its way through my stomach.It’s something I haven’t felt in over ten years, and I know it relates back to me going home.No, not home.Going back to Chatham.Anxiety isn’t something I feel too often because there isn’t much here in New York that stirs up unwanted memories and feelings.I fear going back to Chatham will unearth those demons I’ve so carefully buried.Not that I have a choice.I’ll have to figure out ways to tolerate them for the short period of time I’m there.
Mid-March in Chatham is cold, with spring just out of reach and winter still having its icy grip on the town.I can’t deny how my chest warms with the thought of standing in front of the ocean as the waves crash into the shore.It’s truly the only place I feel close to my mother, the only place I would ever consider close to being home.I don’t think that will ever change.
“Nolan!”I turn at the sound of Jarrod Bruckner’s voice, owner of WTRV.“I’m sorry about your father.Is there anything else we can do for you?”
I take his outstretched hand and he hauls me in for a hug.The man is nearing seventy and still, his strength astounds me.“No, sir.”I shake my head and draw back from his hold.“Three months off is more than enough.I probably won’t even need all of that.”
“I’ll make sure you’re still getting paid.”I open my mouth to protest as he holds up his hand, forcing me to swallow down any arguments.“It’s the least I can do.”
Jarrod has always held me in high regard, saying my work ethic reminds him of his when he was a kid.I hate that he still calls me that every now and then… kid.I don’t dare tell him it reminds me of the man I’m about to bury.“Thank you, Jarrod.I will keep in touch and let you know when I will be returning.”
“Take your time.”He claps me on the shoulder as he walks by, whistling a sad tune.After saying bye to a few others, I head back out to my car and pull the cell phone out of my pocket.
Sixteen phone calls and eleven text messages.That’s a new record and annoying as hell.I call Cassie back before I get on the road because New York traffic will be aggravating enough.
“Nolan!”she screams into the phone.“What the hell has come over you?”
“I beg your pardon?”I ask as I take a deep breath, willing myself not to lay into her.
“You weren’t picking up your phone, and I thought you left without me!”I wince at her high-pitched voice and take another deep breath.
“Cassie, where is it you think that we’re going?”Calm, cool, collected.
“Chatham!”
“I am going to Chatham, not we,” I explain and breathe a sigh of relief when no more screeching comes through the speaker.
“You don’t want me there?”Now she sounds on the verge of tears, and if I were a nicer man, I would try to soothe her.
“Absolutely not,” I say instead.“I’m not going on vacation, Cassie.”
“I know that!”she retorts, exasperation in her tone.“That’s why I wanted to be there for you.”
“I don’t need anyone there for me.I need to clean out and renovate a cottage my father destroyed, and then I need to find renters for the summer before I come back.It’s work.”I pat myself on the back for taking the time to explain to her what I’ll be doing instead of hanging up, but it’s all wasted in a second.
