Page 68 of Fighting the Tide
“Come in!”I call out as the door opens to reveal Avery, her hair cut short around her shoulders and her face a welcome sight after so long.“I’m so happy you’re here,” I tell her as my body relaxes.
She steps into the cottage and comes toward me, her arms outstretched.I’m then engulfed in her warmth, the familiar smell of her smoothing my frayed edges.“Let’s get this done so my stupid brother can make it look stunning.”
I pull back from her arms and look down into her face with a small smile.“He told you?”
“He was at my mother’s for breakfast.You would think at his age he’d know how to fry himself an egg.He did tell me what his offer was and I’m glad you took him up on it.You both deserve to move on.”
“I’ve done almost everything but the bedroom,” I explain as I lead her over to it.“It’s a mess filled with trash and god knows what else.I don’t know how he survived here for ten years,” I warn her as she looks into the room.
“It looks like he got what he deserved,” she simply says.No sympathy in her tone for the man who refused to acknowledge me.
“I just need to be on the lookout in here for things my mother kept.I don’t know what he’s destroyed or sold, but I don’t want to accidentally throw out anything,” I explain as I step into the room, kicking aside a pizza box.
She heads back out, grabbing a mask from the box and another pair of gloves before she grabs a garbage bag, shaking it open.“Let’s get to work, Sears.”
Three hours later and the room has been cleared of trash.Everything we found of importance was placed on the stripped bed, waiting for me to go through.Two shoe boxes, a small, wooden jewelry box, and one purse.That’s all that we found of my mother’s in the mountain of trash inside this house.She had them tucked away in a corner of the closet, covered by clothes and blankets.They look as though they were never disturbed, and maybe my father didn’t want to disturb them.I get his hesitation because as I stand here at the end of the bed and look down at those boxes, I don’t want to open them either.
“I’m going to get these bags out to the garbage and then head into town to get us something to eat.”I know what Avery’s doing and I appreciate it.She doesn’t want to be here to witness if I break down or not, and I would very much rather do that in private.
“That sounds good.”I turn and look at her as she picks up the three garbage bags, giving me a small smile.“Thank you for all your help.”
“We’ll dump that bed in the garbage and I’ll tell my brother the bin can be picked up later this evening.”Then she turns and heads out of the cottage, leaving me alone with the beating of my heart as the only sound in the small bedroom.
I sit on the edge of the bed, bringing one of the boxes over and settling it on my lap.It has some weight to it, but I’m not prepared for what I see when I pull off the lid.Photos.Hundreds of photos are inside the box.The most recent sitting at the top is my high school graduation.Many of them are of me, my mom, and Avery.All of us with wide smiles on our faces, but my fingers begin to tremble when I see snippets of wavy, blonde hair, some strands sprayed with a blue glitter.
I push those aside, unable to see her face, and instead find photos of my mother and me, and more of Avery during my childhood.A lot of them are on the beach, the three of us laughing and building sandcastles, and there are even a few of the Sandersons, including Darren, as we have picnics or barbecues.I pull out a photo of my mother holding me as an infant, her eyes filled with love as she looks down at me, a small smile curving her mouth.I may have had a trying childhood, one filled with the woes of having no money, but I never lacked for love.My mother made sure that my well of love was overflowing.So much so that when she knew she was dying, she selflessly kept it to herself so that I would continue school and become somebody.
She wanted me out of this town so badly because she was worried that I would follow along the same path as her.For a little while there, I truly believe she was petrified that I had done that.Falling in love with Brooke must have been so scarily familiar to her, especially when the toxicity of our relationship was beginning to show through my broken heart.
I couldn’t see it then, the similarities, the parallel lines between my relationship with Brooke and my mother’s with my father.It was all lost on me because I was buried so deep under the blanket of love, in that sweet spot where you can’t see any wrong in the person you’re with.I see it now, though.As much as I resent Brooke and her decision not to give us a try, there are times, like now, that I find myself grateful she didn’t.I would have done anything for her, and I would have ended up living here in Chatham, never spreading my roots in new soil.
I close the box and put it aside to grab the next one.This box is heavier as I set it on my lap and open the lid as a laugh escapes my mouth.Inside is a bunch of silver cutlery my mother was given on her wedding day, the silver long tarnished.There’s also a wedding certificate along with a few photos from their wedding.My mother looked beautiful in a long-sleeved lace gown, her hair pinned up beneath the veil.Her face looked so very young and naïve as she smiled for the camera.To think I would be conceived only a few months later and put a wrench in their life plans.My mother would accept it with loving open arms as my father grew resentful.
I sift through the box and find a baby’s hospital cap along with hospital tags.One belonging to my mother and a tiny one that would have been mine.Baby Sears is written along the plastic.I quickly put the lid back on the box as my eyes begin to burn and my chest grows heavy with emotion.I wish I could have been a better son.I should have been there with her when she was sick and dying.She should have passed peacefully, knowing her son was by her side, and that’s a regret I will live with for the rest of my life.
I stack the boxes together and reach for her purse, unzipping it and looking inside.Her birth certificate, passport, and other forms of IDs sit inside.There’s a roll of money, a couple one-hundred-dollars tucked into a corner.The more I look through it, the more I realize this was her getaway bag.I don’t know when she started to put money aside to get out of Chatham, and possibly away from my father, but this is the proof of her intentions.Maybe it was while she was pregnant and I was growing inside her belly because that’s when my father became someone different.A man she didn’t recognize.
I close the purse and place it on top of the boxes, then reach for the jewelry box.My mother never wore jewelry, just a simple gold band around her ring finger, a symbol of the marriage she cherished even if she was the only one who did.I open the top and find insights to the little girl my mother once was.A little ballerina pops up in front of the lid, her body twirling as tinkling music fills the room.I find little beaded bracelets and matching earrings, most of them made of beach glass and seashells.Nothing of actual monetary value sits inside this jewelry box, but it’s overflowing with sentimental value.
I wipe my damp cheeks and pick up my mother’s things, carrying them out to my car and promising her I will treasure them as much as she did.I close the door just as Avery’s car pulls in.She gets out, holding two large brown paper bags as I rush down the driveway to help her.“There are also two large cups of lemonade inside.”She points into her car.I open the passenger side door and lean in to grab them, the scent of food making my stomach growl loudly.That’s what I get for not eating when I wake up with a hangover.
“Do you want to eat on the beach?”I ask her as her head turns and her eyes light up.
“Like at our spot?”she questions, her lips widening into a smile.
“Do you think it’s still there?Or do you think the teenagers have destroyed it?”We head inside the house and walk toward the back door, opening it and letting the sound of the ocean rush over us.
“Do you realize how many people are going to enjoy this place during the summers?”She sighs as she stands on the back porch, the wind brushing along her face and moving her shoulder-length hair around her chin.
“I hope so,” I state as we both step down to the sand, our shoes sinking into the grains.“That depends on if your brother is as good as he says he is.”
Her laugh echoes out along the beach as she shakes her head.“I haven’t really seen his work,” she admits.“It took me a while to even believe that he had turned his life around.I’m talking years, Nolan.We’ve drifted so far apart that things are a little awkward between us now.”We walk toward where our fire pit once sat, hoping it’s still there.Both of us are silent as I let her words mull over in my mind and she stares out at the ocean with a contemplative look on her face.
“Well, I certainly hope he knows what he’s talking about because yesterday he went around my house with some unicycle-looking, measuring thing, and you know, he certainly dresses the part,” I say jokingly as she giggles.“Although his overalls were pretty clean.Shouldn’t they be dirty or something?”Her laugh soothes that angry piece inside of me, the one that has been slowly growing since coming back to Chatham.
“Look, Nolan!”she exclaims, her finger pointing ahead as she grips the handles of the brown bag in her hand.“It’s still there!”
A little way up the beach in the distance is our oasis in the center of the sand.Three logs forming a U with a fire pit in the center.The sight of it makes me smile, but with it also comes memories of a sad girl who took me on a chase across the beach and into a lighthouse.I don’t dare look at the horizon because I wouldn’t be able to take in the sight of that red tower in the distance.
