Page 64 of Fighting the Tide
“Dad and I weren’t that close the last few years before his death.He wanted a footballer son and I failed him.”He shrugs again and looks over his shoulder at my car.“This is a sweet ride.What are you doing up there in New York?”
“Producer for a news station,” I reply as I ease around the car to the driver’s side.
“Have you seen that?”He points to the theater and its new sign.“They did it after she died.”
“Yeah, I saw.”I open the car door as he leans over the roof, his bulky arms folding as if he plans to stay awhile.
“They also put up new streetlights on the main road.Speaking of Brooke…” He gives me a smarmy smile.
I hold up my hand, stopping any gossip he’s thinking of peddling, and get into the car and call out, “I gotta get going, Kasen.”
“Right.”He taps the top of the car and bends to look inside, his hand raised in farewell.“I’ll see you around.”
I give him one of my fake smiles as I start the car and throw it in drive.“I fucking hope not,” I say to myself as I drive away, leaving Kasen standing in the center of the parking lot with his hands on his hips, his bags hanging from his thick fingers.
No matter how much time passes, I can still remember him with his hands and mouth all over Brooke in the school courtyard, and it has the same effect now that it did all those years ago.I want to flatten his nose with my fucking fist.
I breathe it out as I head toward the cottage, my temper already getting the best of me.I haven’t felt this emotional since… My throat begins to swell with the memory of what I endured the last time I was in Chatham, and no amount of breathing is stopping the burning in my eyes.I pull over, funnily enough at the back entrance of the theater, and try to compose myself.My forehead rests against the wheel as I concentrate on breathing.
I hate being back here.I hate not being in control.
I lift my head and look in the rearview mirror, staring at the back door to the theater.No soda can anymore and no Brooke Eastham either.After getting my breathing under control, I put the car into drive and ease away from the curb, glancing once again at the picture of my past, of memories too hard to reminisce over.
The driveway looks sad without the red truck parked in the center, spilling its oil on the surface, and I sigh as I absorb yet another loss.I know it was just a clunky old vehicle, but it held so much of my childhood in its robust and rusted frame.I park in its vacant spot and slip a mask over my mouth and nose, then work some latex gloves over my hands.Another day rifling through garbage, hoping I can create a proper path to the bedroom.My mother’s things are still in there, the stuff my father hadn’t sold, and I’ve been working myself up to be able to go through them.
Grabbing the bags, I get out of the car and walk through the weeds to get to the front door, pulling the key from my pocket and slipping it into the lock.
“I texted you!”Cassie calls out, and I turn to find her standing at the end of the driveway, her curly, blonde hair blowing around her face.“Why are you avoiding me, Nolan?”I groan and close my eyes as irritation floods me.
It suddenly dawns on me that I am doing to Cassie what Brooke did to me.I chased the woman, begged her to let me love her, and in the end, it wasn’t me that made her heart race.Being on the other side of this equation makes me feel like shit, but I can almost understand what Brooke’s mind frame was.No matter how much you want to love the person who loves you, forcing it only lays a burden on your heart.Guilt becomes your best friend.
“I was a little busy.”I hold up my gloved hands and point to the mask on my face, hoping she gets the clue and leaves me alone.It’s about time I sit Cassie down and tell her once and for all that I don’t and never will love her.Like Brooke did to me.
“I can help you.”She walks up the driveway, stepping carefully around the holes.“I dropped my stuff off at my parents’ house, so I’m close by.”
“Cassie.”I exhale a breath and place my hands on my waist.“I kind of need to do this alone.”
“Why?”She stops in the middle of my driveway and places her hands on her hips.“Are you embarrassed?Or do you want nothing to do with me?”
“Jesus.”I scrub my latex-gloved hand down my face with a groan.“Because this is my family home, and I would like to deal with it on my own.I don’t need any help.”
“You hired Darren Sanderson,” she huffs, as if she has a leg to stand on with that argument.
“He’s a fucking contractor!”I exclaim and throw my hands in the air, my temper once again getting the best of me.“He’ll be rebuilding this place to make it fit for renting!”
Her eyes widen as my scream echoes around our heads.I have never raised my voice to her, have never cared enough to lose my calm demeanor, but here in Chatham, I can’t seem to get a grip on the facade I built over the years in New York.
“Renting?You were serious when you said that?”Her hands drop from her hips with surprise.“You’re not moving back here?”
“Moving back here?”I laugh, the sound loud and forced.“I have nothing here in Chatham.”
“We grew up here.My family is here, I could be here.I want to move back home and start my own magazine.I thought we were just waiting for…” she trails off as her head falls, her chin meeting her chest.
“You were waiting for my father to die?Me too, Cassie.Don’t feel bad about saying it.Only I was never planning on moving back here.New York is my home.”I feel bad for her because the Nolan she’s been investing her time in is not worth shit.She will never get the version of me that was most suitable for a marriage and family.That’s not her fault, though.
She lifts her head, her eyes filled with determination.“Why, Nolan?Why can’t we move back home, live in your family’s house, and raise a family?It’s too hectic in New York, not to mention expensive—”
“Wait.”I hold up my hand, cutting her off.“When did I ever give you the impression that I wanted any of those things?”It’s harsh, I know, but I feel like a broken record here.
