Page 60 of Fighting the Tide
“Good.”
There’s no helping him because it’s clear he wants to die, and I doubt he’d accept any of the help I offered.That is, if I wanted to offer in the first place.I’m comforted in knowing he feels similar to what I do, and I can finally wipe my hands of the man who ruined our lives.
Without a single reason to stay in Chatham, I turn on my heel and walk out of the cottage and away from the life I once cherished.It’s time I start over and stop living for the people around me.With a deep breath, I get back into my car and make myself a promise.
Chatham and the people in it no longer exist.
Part Three
Adrift
Playlist
Adrift Playlist - 2011
“Mr.Brightside” - The Killers
“Scars” - Papa Roach
“Let Me Go” - 3 Doors Down
“Numb/Encore” - Jay Z and Linkin Park
“How to Save a Life” - The Fray
“Home” - Daughtry
“Waiting on the World to Change” - John Mayer
“Viva La Vida” - Coldplay
“Use Somebody” - Kings of Leon
“Life After You” - Daughtry
Chapter Twenty-Seven
March 2011
AnthonySearslastedtenyears longer than I thought he would.I think he did so just to spite me.It was Avery’s mom who found him, having suspected something was wrong when she hadn’t seen him wandering around the neighborhood in a while.She said he was lying on his back in bed, his eyes focused on the ceiling and a smile decorating his mouth.
Maybe my mother came to guide him to heaven because there’s no way he would’ve made it on his own.She would do something that selfless, even if the bastard didn’t deserve it.
My suitcase lays open on the bed with a bunch of shirts thrown in haphazardly next to a couple of khaki shorts and a few pairs of jeans.I don’t know how much to pack because I don’t know how long I’m staying this time.I opted out of a funeral service for the man who was most hated in Chatham, and instead, asked for him to be buried in a plot beside my mother.It took a lot of digging internally to make that decision because what I really wanted to do was cremate him and then dump his ashes down the fucking toilet.His only saving grace from ending up as shit water was the fact that he tried for those last few months of my mother’s life.He really tried.
I take another sip of my coffee, then place the mug on my desk as I pull out the drawer with my folded boxers.I toss a couple of those in the suitcase, then throw some socks over my shoulder toward the bed.Everything feels so disjointed because I don’t know what my plans are.I decide to abandon the packing and grab my coffee, heading out of my room.I’ll be late for the last day of work before my sabbatical if I linger any longer.
I’ve been granted three months’ leave to go home and take care of all that’s left of my family.A crumbling cottage stuffed with garbage, and god knows what else, on a large piece of land backing onto the beach.I know its worth, even just for the land itself, and if I want to hold that piece of land in the Sears’ name, I need to transfer the deed and decide whether to keep it or sell it.
I don’t know the first thing about renovations, but I know Chatham has some of the best contractors in all of Massachusetts.I would need to go there and oversee the construction.I think three months will be more than enough to sort out the monetary value of my fucking tragic life, and then I come back here, to my very own house in a gated community just outside of New York City.To say that I have been successful would be an understatement.I’m now a producer for WTRV and I’d like to think I’ve made my mother proud, in at least that aspect of my life.
As for finding myhomeand the heart of a woman I’m in love with, not even close.The death of my childhood lover scarred me, the wounds still running deep.There’s no way that I will ever find myself entangled with another woman again.Not that deeply, anyway.I have my trysts and little rendezvous around the city, no more than two quick and discreet meetings, and then I never speak to them again for fear of forming an attachment.
I was a soft kid and a lovesick teenager, and even though I have a hard time looking back at those years with any fond feelings, I’ve learned from them.I will never drag myself over hot coals for another person again.It’s not worth the pain that comes afterward.The agony that rips you apart with loss.Nothing is worth that.Even now, I still feel the lingering ache of it, as if I’m still carrying festering wounds that refuse to heal.
The one exception over the years has been Cassie O’Brien.She somehow ends up at my door, her big brown eyes begging for one more night, and I always give in.I could chalk it up to nostalgia, or the fact that she’s one of the few people I still speak to from Chatham, but I’m wise enough to admit that she cures my lonely nights.It’s not fair for her to be used as an instrument of healing, because that’s what she’s been.I don’t know that my rough edges after Brooke’s death would have rounded out over the years without Cassie, and I’m grateful to her.All the more reason to give in when she stands on my doorstep because at least I can give her something in return.After nearly twelve years of surprise visits and late-night fucking between my sheets, she still hasn’t fully accepted that this is all I can ever give.
Cassie has this notion that she can fix me, that eventually she and I will be married with children of our own and living happily ever after, despite how many times I’ve broken her heart with the truth.I don’t sugarcoat my intentions.I don’t make promises I have no intention of keeping.So when she feels brave enough to broach the subject of our nonexistent relationship, I settle in for another round of heartbreak.Hers, not mine.
