Page 65 of Fighting the Tide
She takes a step forward as the determination transforms into desperation.“I know you were grieving for her, but she didn’t deserve it, Nolan.You don’t know everything—”
“Stop!”I bellow, the word echoing around us.“Do not even say another word.Don’t you dare speak ill of the dead, and I’ll say it again, in case you’ve forgotten over the years.Mine and Brooke’s relationship was none of your business.”I begin to tremble, my heart pounding through my chest.I’m on the verge of losing it and Cassie is none the wiser.
“It’s been ten years!”Her words slam into my chest with the impact of a freight train, knocking the air from my lungs and nearly bringing me to my knees.I grip the wall of the cottage, my fingertips digging into the wood paneling as I continue to glare at her.
“It could be twenty and it still wouldn’t change a damn thing, Cassie.Now, get the fuck off my driveway.”It’s a lot nicer than I wanted to be, and that doesn’t say much as she cries, powerful sobs ripping from her throat.The sight of it does nothing for me, and when she realizes I won’t be swayed, she finally turns and rushes away.
Her hair flies out behind her in a halo of curls and her sobs can still be heard as she rushes down the street.I can’t live a lie anymore, and I can’t keep expecting her to.She was my excuse on my loneliest nights, my crutch when I didn’t want to face the rest of my life completely alone, but I can’t do it anymore.She’s clearly fallen in love, it’s been obvious for five years now, and I am hovering around in a state of stasis, waiting for my time to come to an end.
My mother would hate this for me.It brings me right back to that day we had lunch together and she begged me to let Brooke go.This is why.She knew I would be obsessed and fall in love too fast, and she also knew Brooke would break me.
I turn the key, still sitting in the lock, and let myself into the stagnant stench of what had once been my childhood home.The smell isn’t as potent because I aired the place out yesterday, but it’s still disgusting.I fall against the door as it shuts, my back absorbing the impact as the air leaves my lungs.There’s something ominous lingering over Chatham, an energy that seems to have its sights fixated on me.It’s felt this way for most of my life.As soon as I step foot inside the town’s lines, I’m honed in on and followed, and I can’t shake it loose.
I swallow down the urge to give up and leave this place to rot before continuing toward the couch at the far end of the room.My bed.I open another garbage bag and throw the garbage and old clothing inside.After a while, the thoughts of Cassie and our situation soon fade, and I get lost in the motions of cleaning.I decide the couch smells of bodily fluids and trash, so it’s also going in the bin, but I pull out the bed and cushions first, making sure nothing of importance is inside.
The mattress pops open with a groan, the hinges old and rusted, and right there, bouncing in the center of the bed is a single purple candle.The sight of it steals the breath from my lungs and the next few beats of my heart.It must have fallen out the last time I was home and slept on this bed, the night Brooke told me there was nothing left for me here.I used to carry that candle around with me everywhere, a reminder that I once had her and I could have her again.It was my symbol of hope and after that night, I thought I had lost it forever.
It’s clear this bed hasn’t been slept in since then, as if the thought of even opening it reminded my father of me.I can only imagine the disgust rushing through him at the sight of it alone.I gingerly sit on the end of the mattress, the springs protesting with the weight, and stare at the small object that has endured over ten years inside this place.I want to believe it’s a sign that Brooke is still around me, chasing away the dark energy, but I still can’t feel her anywhere.
I grab the candle in my hand, feeling the smooth wax settle against my palm, the wick blackened from its single use many years before.I can still see it vividly, standing there in her kitchen, the cake between us as tears glistened along her cheeks.The way she sucked in a shaky breath to blow out the candles, her wish being that she hoped I would be there to do it again the next year.I slip it into my pocket and get back to work clearing the debris and creating a path to the back door.Just standing on the other side, I can hear the rush of the waves and it calms my tumultuous insides for a moment.I drag in air, feeling like my lungs are filling to capacity for the first time since I’ve been back, and everything I was feeling before begins to dull down from agony to a constant ache.
There were times I would listen to the sounds of the ocean and reminisce about my childhood and miss the days of freedom.I find myself doing it again.I miss Avery, I miss my mom, and I miss feeling like I had a home to come back to, no matter what.I hate coping with this perception of being adrift, like I have nowhere to belong.It’s lonely most of the time, and even though I gladly wallow in that loneliness, being back here and hearing the water a stone’s throw away has feelings of inadequacies returning.
My phone pings and I contemplate ignoring it, hoping that if it’s Cassie, she will leave me alone for a little while.But when it pings again in quick succession, I pull it from my pocket with curiosity.Cassie is a novel-length texter.She will type everything she’s feeling in one long message, never sending me more than one until it’s clear I’m not replying.
I see Avery’s name on my screen’s notifications and release a sigh.She’s always had the perfect intuition when it comes to our friendship.Somehow she knows when I’m about to capsize and become a victim of the vast ocean.
Avery: I’ll be in Chatham in two days.Sorry I couldn’t be there sooner.
Me: No worries.Still cleaning out garbage in the cottage.See you then.
I close the chat and the date appears on the screen; the sight rendering me speechless.March twenty-sixth.Tomorrow is Brooke’s birthday, and the thought has my hand settling over the small object in my pocket.Was this a coincidence?
It takes another hour to toss out the rest of the trash in the main room and then drag the couch out into the bin.I can’t help but be grateful to Darren for it because I can’t imagine leaving all of this at the curb.I clearly hadn’t thought it all out.
I lock up the cottage and pull off my mask and gloves, throwing them both into the bin, and then I get into my car.I should be heading back to the bed-and-breakfast so I can shower and maybe try to avoid the liquor for one night, but instead, I’m driving toward the cemetery.I tell myself it’s to visit my mother, and even though that’s partially the truth, it’s not all of it.Her birthday is tomorrow, and I had made her a promise that I’ve broken many times over the years.Maybe I can keep it this year.
A set of ornate gates appear on the right-hand side of the road, the large wrought iron looming toward the sky.It gives the cemetery a majestic look, as if Heaven itself is just beyond those gates.I turn into the grounds and drive along the main path, leading toward the back end of the cemetery to where my mother rests for eternity, and not too far from Brooke.My father has been interned next to my mother, but I’m not here for him.Am I continuing our dysfunctional relationship beyond death?Yes.Am I ashamed?Of course.Do I want to do a single thing about it?Not really.They’re all dead anyway.
I slow down as I pass my mother’s grave on my left-hand side, seeing the fresh dirt in the spot beside hers.Both spots are shaded by the large willow gently blowing in the wind.It would be nice to get out and walk over.Maybe if I brought flowers, I could’ve placed them there against her tombstone, but it makes me physically ill to even think of getting out of the car right now.It’s a miracle I’m even here.I promised myself I would never come back to this cemetery.
Movement to the right catches my attention and I whip my head around, settling my gaze on Brooke’s tombstone near the fence.The polished surface gleams in the last few rays of the sun and the stone is decorated with new and old flowers.She’s clearly more loved in death than she ever was in life.I tried.For what it’s really worth, I tried to love her with everything I had, but there was always something standing between us, a barrier I couldn’t budge.
I flick my eyes along the fence and stop on a teenage girl with her head down as she writes in a notebook.Her hair is a light brown, the strands highlighted in the sun and hanging down to nearly her waist.There’s something there in the way the waves move subtly down the tresses that’s pulling at my chest.So much like Brooke’s.She lifts her head up and looks at me; her features are too far away to really see the details, but I can see her hardened glare and nearly laugh when Brooke’s comes to mind.Then I begin to feel the weight of my grief coating over my shoulders like a heavy blanket, threatening to haul me down under.
I force myself to look away, feeling bad for interrupting whomever she was here to visit, and continue driving around the bend, following the path back out to the entrance.With restless energy, I find myself back at the cottage, and even though it’s late, I decide to continue bagging garbage until I’m tired enough to sleep.
Chapter Thirty
Theentirecottageiscleared of trash, save for the bedroom, which I haven’t opened yet.The bin has been changed, and it’s once again empty, waiting for round two.I called Darren today to get started on the design process, and I’ve borrowed Avery’s mom’s lawn mower to tackle the overgrown lawn in the front and back.
I know I’m avoiding the bedroom.I’ve come to that conclusion on my own.I just haven’t figured out why yet.Is it because I’m afraid to go through my mother’s things?Or is it because that’s where my father drew his last breath?Maybe a mixture of both.Too much death surrounds me and I feel like I need to avoid it another day.I’ll have Avery tomorrow, and we’ll tackle it together then.
I’m standing at the open back door as I look at the freshly mowed lawn, and then scan my eyes along the beach beyond it.It’s been a hard day of working outside, but at least there’s still a chill in the air, enough that I wasn’t overheating as I forced the lawn mower through the thick weeds.The sky is a little bit dark today; the clouds growing fatter and grayer as the time goes on.There will be a storm later tonight and it seems like perfect timing being it’s Brooke’s birthday.To me, Brooke was the perfect storm, dangerous, unpredictable, and exciting.There were days when I felt like I was standing in the eye of a hurricane, watching in fascination as she battered everything around me.I wasn’t going to do it, but the candle that’s been sitting in my pocket for over a day now is begging to be reunited with its owner.I could go by the graveyard after my meeting with Darren, and maybe this time I’ll be able to get out of my car.She deserves a happy birthday in case her family hasn’t been home to give her one.
“Knock, knock!Did someone order a pop-up mansion?”I turn at the sound of Darren’s voice as he strides into the cottage, his heavy work boots thudding against the thin floor.
“Do you think I could leave the design to you?I don’t know the first thing about it, and honestly, Darren, I don’t give a fuck.”He stops short at my words, his eyes widening as he looks around the room.“This place doesn’t mean that much to me anymore.”
