Page 66 of Fighting the Tide
He gives me a slow nod, his hand coming up to scratch at his chin as he continues to scan the cottage.“Well, you’ll have to let me know what your budget is and give me a general idea.Do you want to expand the size?Or do you want to keep it small and cozy?”
“I don’t want to pump too much money into this place, but I agree there should be an extra room built, but that’s about it.Two bedrooms and an open floor plan for the rest.”I point to the small bathroom with the stand-up shower and pedestal sink.“And there, if you can expand that as well, maybe put a claw-foot tub and a shower or whatever it is people like.I don’t know.”I shrug my shoulders as he nods again.
“No problem, man.I’m going to take some measurements and I’ll get started on the drawings.When do you think I’ll be able to get in here to rip it all down?”His work boot taps against the tiny island in the kitchen, the sound echoing around the empty room.
I look toward the closed bedroom door, and for some reason, I decide to tell him the truth.“I don’t want to go in there.That’s where your mother found him, but that’s not the only reason why.My mother’s things are in there.At least I hope so, and I haven’t really had to face her death in a while.Your sister will be here tomorrow, so I’m going to wait for her.If you can give me the next few days, then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Sounds good.”He looks over his shoulder toward the front door, his brows bunching together in thought.“I’m going to talk to my landscaping friends to get you some flowers and shit.Maybe plant a nice tree out front and discuss an interlocking driveway.With the right details, this place here on the beach will be an insane investment for you.”He looks back at me and I’m struck again by how much he’s changed.I wonder if Avery has given him a second chance?A true second chance, or if she’s still waiting for the other boot to drop.I know from experience with my father that drugs have a way of embedding themselves inside your very DNA, and no matter how long you’ve been clean, the echoes of their existence last forever.Some people have the willpower to ignore it for the rest of their lives, but others fall into their inky grasp, the allure of escaping reality a little too strong to ignore.
“I hope so.”I turn and look out through the back door as he heads outside to grab whatever it is he needs to do the measurements.Thunder rumbles in the distance, the sound like an annoyed grumble as it rolls toward me.I wonder if that’s where Brooke is, her soul carrying along the clouds.Most of her days could be bright and filled with sunshine, but then it all becomes too much and her mood darkens, creating storms of wind and thunder.It sounds like her and maybe that’s why I can’t feel her anywhere.She’s too high above me.
Darren comes back in with a rolling, wheel-looking device and begins to measure out the cottage, moving along each wall and then stopping to write in his notepad.Once the measurements are taken, he stands at the island and sketches out a rough idea of the layout.“I’m going to head outside and do some lawn measurements, but I’m done in here.I’ll come back over in a few days.”He slips his notepad under his arm and picks up his measuring wheel, heading to the door, but instead of stepping out, he stops.His straight shoulders hunch a little and he doesn’t turn to look at me, but when he speaks, I can hear the sadness in his tone.“I don’t know if helping you here is enough or will be enough for the things I’ve had a hand in.Sure, we can all put the blame on the addicts, but us drug dealers prey upon them, knowing just what buttons to push to send them back over the edge.A few months after your mother died, he came back begging me to give him something to get rid of the grief.He complained her ghost was in this house, taunting him and berating him for not being a good father.He begged me to make her go away.”I can see the profile of his face over his shoulder, and I wait for the impact of his words, for them to really hit me, because if my mother is truly here in this cottage, I don’t feel her.I’m relieved when I feel nothing and I’m not sure if that means, in some twisted way, that I’ve forgiven my father enough to not care about our situation anymore or if I’ve buried it so deep in the sand that I’ve convinced myself it never existed.“I want you to know I didn’t give him anything, and when he began using again, I was already out of the business and doing construction.”
If he’s looking for forgiveness from me, he doesn’t need to.When I open my mouth to tell him that, he’s already stepping outside.A crack of lightning decorates the sky, illuminating the cottage around me.Soon, the electricity will be back up and this place will once again look like a home.I know what I grew up in wasn’t perfect, and many would compare it to a one-room shack, but that’s not what made it home.My mother made this one-room cottage a home, and in her name, I’ll redo it and make it look like one.Hopefully she’ll approve and it’ll be the place she once wanted it to be.Before I ruined everything.
I close the back door, taking a deep breath as I head to the front, knowing that where I’m going and what I’m going to force myself to face may send me over the edge.I was once a kid who prided myself on keeping promises.I didn’t have much, but what I lacked in material things I made up for in morals and beliefs.I kept my word, and I tried my best to be kind, not only to the people who deserved it but to everyone.I lost that person after my mother died, and then when Brooke died, I didn’t even bother attempting to look for him again.
I step out the front door, shutting it behind me and locking it, then slipping the key back into my pocket.Darren’s truck is parked against the curb on the road, Sanderson Construction printed on the side.As much as I despise his part in my father’s downward spiral, I don’t think I ever truly blamed him.I get into my car and drive along the same route I did the day before, and when those looming gates appear, another crack of lightning skates through the sky.It’s almost like a beacon, guiding me to Brooke, just as the lighthouse did for so many years.
I turn into the cemetery, driving along the path, and this time I continue on by my parents’ graves, knowing that if I stop, I may not continue.I’ll lose my nerve and once again break another promise.Once I’m in line with Brooke’s grave, I turn off the car and step outside, my hand instantly going to the candle in my pocket and the lighter sitting next to it.The sky begins to turn an angry dark gray, warning of the impending downfall that’s coming, but none of that makes me shy away.So with one foot in front of the other, I walk to her tombstone.It’s the newest one in this area, the stone still clean and polished.
Fresh flowers have been laid at the base, all the other dried and dead ones cleared away, and when I get closer, I notice it’s a bunch of wildflowers tied together with a pretty pink ribbon.My eyes instantly burn as I fall to my knees, my fingers brushing along the yellow and white petals of the flowers.She would have loved the pink ribbon, and I’m struck by the fact that whoever brought these here knew Brooke.Maybe as well as I did.It certainly wasn’t her parents.They would spend hundreds on a wreath of red roses to save face for its declaration of love, but only for others’ eyes.These are personal, something money can’t buy, and instead of a burning envy for the person she let get that close, I feel a sort of kinship.I pull the candle and lighter out of my pocket as the first spot of rain hits my forehead, and I stare at them in the palm of my hand, trying to find the apology I owe the woman beneath me.
I light the wick of the candle and wait for a few drops of wax to slip down its sides before I press it into the top of her grave, holding it until the wax at the base grips the stone.The flame moves precariously with the wind, and just when I think it’s about to blow out, it brightens stronger than before.
“Happy birthday, Brooke,” I whisper as I run my fingers over the etched surface of the tombstone.“I’m back here in Chatham, trying to fix up the cottage and get it ready to rent, but you and I both know I’m doing it as quickly as possible.I hate being here and can’t wait to leave Chatham behind me.I didn’t mean to leave you behind too.Anytime I left, I always had the intention to come back, but for some reason, I couldn’t convince you of that.Now that you’re gone, and my only family in the world is gone, I can finally close this chapter and move on.Brooke, I need to move on.”My hand falls into my lap as my ass hits the grass, my knees bending in front of me and my arms wrapping around them.A couple more drops of rain hit the top of my head and my back as the thunder grows overhead, the noise loud and ominous.It’s almost as if she’s there, yelling down at me to smarten up and be a man and to live the life I’ve always dreamed of.I look at the candle as the first few tears slip from my eyes, this heavy emotion feeling so foreign because I haven’t allowed myself to feel anything in such a long time.“Make a wish, Brooke,” I whisper as my chin rests against my knees.
The flame flickers, bending from one side to the other, but then a powerful gust of wind blows by and the flame goes out, a thin plume of smoke chasing after it.My heart breaks open and I let myself be flooded with grief, loneliness, and turmoil as the sky also opens up and a sheet of rain drenches me.I openly sob at Brooke’s grave as lightning cracks through the sky and thunder chases behind it, but I don’t care.Nothing else matters right now.
My skin begins to tingle, the sensation like icy fingertips skimming over the surface.I’m convinced it’s from the chill of the rain and wind, but it spreads so quickly and seeps inside my chest, almost filling the void to capacity.With the first tug, my head snaps up on a gasp as I struggle to my feet, my hand pressed to my chest.“Brooke?”I call out, the sound of her name filled with agony.“Brooke, are you here?”I know I must look like a lunatic, but this feeling in my chest is overwhelming, and even though I haven’t felt it in the slightest for well over ten years, this time it’s different.It’s stronger than it’s ever been.Almost like it’s taking up all the room inside of me, pushing the air from my lungs and forcing my heart to move.The next tug has me spinning around to face my car, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me, and that’s when she steps out from behind the tree about twenty feet away.I squint through the rain, and even though I can’t see her features, I’d know that form anywhere.I don’t even need to see the wet waves hanging around her head to know that this is Brooke.She looks so goddamn angry as her fists ball at her sides and her mouth opens on a scream that gets swallowed up by the next boom of thunder.Then she turns, her hair fanning out behind her, spraying water in all directions as she runs, her thin legs pumping and carrying her away from me.I stumble forward, trying to make my feet work, but it’s like I’m stuck in quicksand and the more I move, the farther I sink.“Brooke!”
Her spirit is long gone.I can feel it in the empty echoes just behind my ribs.I’m once again hollow, feeling emptier than ever as I force my feet to work and stumble back to my car.I don’t want to go back to the bed-and-breakfast.I don’t want to be here in my hometown, staying in a place I don’t know.So I drive to the convenience store where they sell the brand of whiskey I like, and even though the guy behind the counter gives me a critical once-over, he takes my money in exchange for the bottle.Then I head back to the cottage, knowing that it’s empty.Nothing but a hardwood floor, and for some reason, that sounds more appealing than a cushioned mattress and fluffy pillows.I’m not looking to be comforted.I want to do whatever I can to feel something.I want to chase this numbness from my chest and fill it up with anything.Agony, despair.I will take anything but the aftermath of what I felt in that cemetery.
The rain slows as I get to the cottage and hurry to the door, my whiskey in one hand and the key in the other.I let myself inside, and even though my footsteps echo around the room, I don’t feel as alone as I would’ve if I were back in that rented room.I walk to the back door, pulling it open and letting in the chilling breeze.
Then I step outside as I crack open the bottle, tipping the rim to my mouth and gulping down the liquid, hoping the fire burns its way through my insides.The bench my father built so long ago is still standing, and when my ass hits the wooden planks, I pray I don’t fall right through.The rain pellets the awning over my head with a pitter-patter against the plastic sheathing, providing a canopy of noise to distract me from my dark thoughts.I keep my eye on the ocean as the waves crash into the shore and continue to drink, hoping to completely shut out everything that’s happened.
I never quite understood my father and his obsession with drugs and alcohol.I didn’t understand his reasoning for using until this very moment.Sometimes, no matter how fast you run or how hard you try to leave something behind, it always finds a way to catch up with you and the only escape is to drown in alcohol or bury it with chemicals.I know I’ll have this minor relief tonight, but come tomorrow morning, I will have to endure it all again.So as I sit here in a place where my father tried so hard to bury the failures of his life, I finally understand him.
About twenty minutes later, more than half the bottle is depleted.I feel blissfully numb as I stand from the bench and lean over the railing.I look out to the beach as the moon begins to appear between the dark clouds, its light shining down along the beach and reflecting over the water.I’m so sucked into the beauty of it all that I don’t notice her walking along the beach until the last second.Her still-wet hair is blowing out behind her as the breeze kisses her face.Her hand is pressed to her chest as she comes closer, her incorporeal form somehow leaving footprints in the sand.My heart thrashes in my chest, threatening to break through my ribs to bleed out at my feet.The sight of her there, about fifty feet in front of me, has stolen every thought from my mind and every bit of air from my lungs.She’s the Brooke I see in my dreams.The tortured teenager who couldn’t seem to find where she belonged and now her ghost continues on, stuck in this age and forced to live Brooke’s teenage years for all eternity.I don’t know what decided that fate for her and why, but if she’s here to haunt me, she’s going to be very disappointed because I have no answers for her.I didn’t have them for her in high school either.Not that she ever cared to let me help her.
“I’m sorry, Brooke!”I scream over the railing, hoping my words carry to her.“You wouldn’t let me help you then and I can’t help you now.”It’s the first time I’ve ever looked at Brooke and refused her anything.I’d always been selfless when it came to her, putting her happiness above my own, doing whatever it took to bring that smile to her face, even if it meant I was ripping my own heart from my chest and stomping on it for good measure.
Turning away from her, I stumble back into the cottage, leaving her out there on the beach as I slam the door behind me.If she dares follow me inside, she’ll find nothing more than an empty space filled with self-pity.The subtle scent of rot and mold still clouds the room, but I don’t care.My back hits the wall where my couch bed once stood and I slip down until my ass meets the floor, tipping my head back against the plastered surface.
I don’t want to sleep in comfort.I want to feel every uncomfortable surface digging into my bones.I want to have a reminder that I am alive and that this place hasn’t killed me yet.The waves continue to crash outside as the rain slowly stops, taking with it the sounds that were filling the empty space.Now it’s just me and the waves as they pummel the shore, and maybe Brooke is still out there between us, her back to the waves as she stares at the cottage, searching for her absolution.
I can’t help her find hers because I’m still searching for mine, and I don’t even know where to start.It’s not at the end of a whiskey bottle, I know that.I don’t even know if it’s here in Chatham, but I do hope she finds some peace so she can let her past and the people who were a part of it go.Especially the ones who couldn’t help her.
My eyes drift close as I press my hand to my chest, absorbing the last few bits of that echoing emptiness and hoping for a dreamless sleep.
The alcohol does its job as I feel myself succumbing to the numbing oblivion, and it’s there in the back of my mind as I slowly sink into sleep.I wonder if she’s here and presenting herself to me because my time is nearing as well.
Chapter Thirty-One
Islowlycometoas the wood pressing against my cheek sends another throb of pain throughout my head.I open my eyes and find myself in the empty cottage, curled up on the floor in the fetal position with my back pressed to the wall.It’s a sad way to look and I’m glad I’m the only one to witness it.
I push myself up off the floor with a groan, my bones popping and cracking as I slowly stretch my limbs.My head throbs with a hangover, and even though my night is shrouded in fog, I can still remember what happened.Now that it’s daytime and I’m thinking a little bit clearer, I can’t help but believe that I’m subconsciously torturing myself by imagining Brooke in places throughout Chatham.It’s not the Brooke I knew when we were adults, it’s the teenage version of her, the Brooke I feel I’ve let down.So there’s no wonder that’s how I’m seeing her.
