Page 76 of Fighting the Tide
“I didn’t think I needed to send out a warning before entering Chatham,” I cut her off and lift my hand as she lets loose a breath.“Avery, what is going on?”
“There’s a lot to unpack, and you look tired.Come back in the morning for breakfast and you and I will have a chat.”I hate how vague she’s being, and I can’t help but think this is about Brooke somehow.No matter how long ago her death was, it still somehow finds me in every facet of my life, threatening to drive me to that edge to teeter over the ocean.
“Fine.”I shake my head while telling myself not to overreact.This is the reason I stay away from Chatham.There’s no relief from the dead.They still walk these streets, their ghostly forms laughing as we, the living, stumble through life.
Avery stands at the doorway, watching as I get in the Range Rover and pull away from the house, her hand lifting in farewell.I don’t miss the wrinkle of worry along her brows and the tension in her jaw.What could possibly have her that concerned?
I head toward town, my eyes on Brooke’s Cinemas as I pass it, the sign not dredging up the usual heartbreak like I thought it would.It’s taken a few years of therapy and self-reflection to get to this point, and I finally think I’ve gotten somewhere.The grocery store is empty when I walk inside, the sun having gone down a few hours ago.The tourists aren’t shopping for food right now as they’re more than likely on the beach enjoying a fire and company.
I meander down the aisles, throwing in the basics and then some extras I shouldn’t indulge in.I don’t have a gym here like I do at home, and the thought of running on the beach while dodging kids doesn’t sound appealing.Although, all of that disappears from my mind when I get to the ice cream aisle.I pop two different flavors into my cart and head to the checkout before I really go wild.It’s just a week and I decide I’ll let loose and enjoy myself, even if it means ice cream and frozen pizzas while lounging on the couch in front of the TV.I’ve seen photos of what my TV area looks like in that cottage, and I’m excited to stay there for the first time.
This positive outlook on things is thanks to my therapist.I should send her flowers and a thank-you card because I wouldn’t be handling this as well without her.She suggested a few years ago that I come here for a summer and spend it in all the spots I was too afraid to face.The theater, the lighthouse, and even Brooke’s grave.I laughed in her face then, but I’m seeing the logic behind it now.I’ve faced coming back to Chatham, and even though it took my best friend’s engagement to the love of her life, I still made it.Step one done.Could I attempt step two?
I head out of the grocery store, my bags firmly in my hands as I stare across the street at the theater.The sign out front says the last showing forX-Men: Apocalypseis at 9:45PM.That’s forty-five minutes for me to get home and put away the groceries, then work up the nerve to come back out here.Is this something I should do on night one of being back in the town I grew up in?The town that took so much from me?Probably not, but I won’t ignore the call, a vibration in my chest, so similar to Brooke’s tug.
The drive back to the cottage is quiet and filled with me going over the pros and cons of what I’m planning to do.These experiments should be attempted after the party this weekend in case the aftermath chases me from Chatham, but I can’t deny this feeling of strength inside me.It’s not a tug, not like I used to experience with Brooke.It’s stronger, like a full-body awareness.
I pull into the shining interlock driveway of my family home and admittedly am struck speechless.It’s weird not to have to avoid holes nearly a foot deep or weeds growing to my waist.The front lawn is a rich green, the grass thick and well-maintained.A flower bed sits to the right of the newly built porch, the sea of pink and blue flowers giving the place a sense of serenity.I sit in the Range Rover and look at the front of the cottage, from the lawn to the porch and then the wind chimes decorating the railing, and all of it sends a shot of sadness through me.My mother wanted this, and I was never able to give it to her.
The first thing I do is close my eyes and remember a time where my mother was happy.Most memories are of us together and I sink into that, using the technique my therapist gave me.It wasn’t my fault she had cancer, and I was not the reason she died.
Once I have myself under control, I get out of the vehicle and bring my groceries up to the front porch.I have always had a key to the place, the same one as before, because I asked Darren not to change the locks.I wanted something linking this cottage to the past, a reminder of its origins.
I open the door and step inside.It’s as though I’m seeing it for the first time, even though I was sent videos of every single inch of the place.They never did it justice.The light wood floors remind me of driftwood, and the pale blue walls feel like the sky on a bright summer’s day.I head into the kitchen and place the bags on the dark granite countertop and peer around at the white cabinets and stainless steel appliances.It feels modern and yet still a cottage.I put away the food and head to the living area next.The dark blue couch gives me ocean vibes, as do the seashell accents in the lamps and furniture.Darren outdid himself, and the place feels more like a home than it ever did.
The curtains hanging from the windows take my breath away and I stride to the nearest one, taking the fabric between my thumb and forefinger.I asked Darren to source the material, telling him there was no amount too high to pay for it.He found it in a linen set and bought enough to have curtains made.Pink wisteria with green leaves on a bright white background.She had loved this pattern, and I needed a piece of her here forever.I open the window and let in the cool night air, the briny breeze transforming the place into a beach oasis.
My eyes immediately flick to the bedroom that once belonged to my parents and then to the new one in front of me.I’m curious to see what he did with the bedroom that used to be my mother’s, but I head to the newest one first.I open the door and find that the driftwood floors carry into this room and the walls also remain the same.The bed is a queen, and the blankets are a beautiful cerulean blue, piled high with seashell pillows.The closet is small and simple, and the window is decorated with a bay seat, providing the perfect view of the ocean.It’s gorgeous, but not where I want to sleep.
I step back out and close the door, heading back outside to the vehicle to grab my suitcase.I don’t even remember exactly what I packed since I did it in an angry haze.Hopefully, I have presentable attire and not ripped band shirts and holey underwear.I carry it back into the house and close the door behind me, taking in a breath of the cool ocean breeze.There’s no denying the appeal of Chatham, especially living here on the beach, and I can remember a time when I never wanted to leave.Those memories only bring with them grief, and even though I’ve learned how to manage that, I don’t actively search them out.
The sound of the suitcase wheels running along the wood floors fills the space as I make my way to the master bedroom.As soon as I open the door, I know this is my room.The floor and walls remain the same color, but it’s the navy accents that add an extra appeal.Dark blue covers on a king-sized bed and matching blackout curtains to block the early morning sun.The side tables are a black lacquer with granite tops to match the kitchen, and the wall supporting a mounted TV is painted the same navy blue.A black settee sits in a corner next to a small bookcase housing a pitiful few books.I’ll have to change that before I leave.
I set the suitcase by the bed and leave the room, hoping to make it in time for the last movie of the night.A strange mix of anticipation and apprehension courses through me, leaving me feeling like I’m in the center of a tornado, watching as the destruction flies around me.It’s so similar to the way I felt when I found myself the center of Brooke’s attention, as fleeting as that was.
With my chest buzzing and my skin tingling, I lock up the cottage and get into the Range Rover before I change my mind.I can’t help but be curious about what is dragging me to the center of town and into that theater.The drive is less than ten minutes, and when I pull into the parking lot, I’m not surprised to find it full.Tourists.I’m almost tempted to wait by the back door and sneak into the theater, just for old times’ sake.
The stars shine brightly overhead as I round the building and stand in line at the front.With ten minutes to spare before the movie starts, I hope I gave myself time to grab popcorn.The mundane thoughts are doing well to keep me distracted as I head inside the rotating door with only three people left in front of me.I can hear the sweet voice of the woman behind the counter as I look around the room.Posters of new movies and popular old ones hang on the walls.TheBad Boysone grabs my eye immediately, making my throat swell slightly at the sight and the memories it provokes.
With just one more person in front of me, I take a deep breath and try to calm my beating heart.I can do this.Brooke isn’t here inside these walls, but if I’m being honest, this feeling in my chest has only grown stronger.I rub my palm over my shirt, trying my best to dispel the ache while I wonder if maybe she is here.The lighthouse may have beenourspot, but this theater was hers.I look around again, searching for any sign of her beyond the tug in my chest, but nothing looks out of the ordinary.The family has done nothing to upgrade the place, and in a way, I’m glad about it.I love the velvet red fabric that hangs along the walls, giving the theater an old-time feel.
“Hi, sir.Solo or couple?”I turn my head, realizing I’ve been making people wait when the air leaves my lungs and my heart threatens to stop for good.My chest blooms with pressure as I grab it and stare at what must be my most vivid vision yet.
She’s standing there with her head cocked to the side, her thick, brown brows creased in the center with confusion, and freckles dotting along her cheeks and nose.Her mouth is a little plumper than I remember, but the shape is the same.A perfect cupid’s bow.Her skin is tanned, darker than it’s ever been, and her highlighted blonde hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun.“Sir?Are you all right?”
Her hand moves up to press into her chest over the golf shirt she’s wearing with Brooke’s Cinemas stitched on the left side.It’s a mirror image of what I’m doing, and I couldn’t miss the name tag if I tried.Colette.“W–who… are… y–you?”I manage to get out as I step aside, letting the few people behind me get served.
As she cashes people out, her eyes keep flicking back to me, and that’s when I notice something peculiar.Those aren’t Brooke’s eyes.They look like my eyes, except for a splash of hazel in her right iris.Heterochromia.I’ve heard of it but have never actually met anyone with it.It’s as though my eyes were put in her face and Brooke just had to have a piece of herself there.This girl’s eyes are a mix of mine and Brooke’s.Mine and Brooke’s.
She finishes up behind the counter and steps out, her teeth sinking into that bottom lip in a display of nervousness.“I remember you,” she asserts as she comes to stand in front of me.She’s tall too, at least 5’10.“You were at my mother’s grave five years ago.My name is Colette Eastham.”She holds out her hand as I stare into her face, trying to decipher her features.Yes, she looks like Brooke, but the longer I take in her face, the more I see that it’s only subtle.Her features are uniquely hers.
“How old are you?”I blurt out as she rears her head back in confusion.
“Nineteen,” she says, her voice raspy and deep.She’s looking at me with wariness as she takes a step back.“Why?”
I do the mental math and it puts her birth in 1997, and her conception, likely in 1996, the year Brooke and I were together.Who am I looking at right now?Who is this girl and why do I have this connection with her?Could she be…?
I stumble backward as she calls, “Mister!”But I’m already heading out of the entrance like a coward because that’s exactly what I am.If I stay inside that theater for another minute, I will seriously have a heart attack and die right there in the middle of the room.
