The Storm and the Darkness (9 page)

“I think he likes you,” Finn teased.

Ana chuckled. “No, I highly doubt that.” Alex narrowed his eyes. The giggling, the flirting, this was not Ana, not at all. She was quiet, and thoughtful, and kind...she was not one of
those
girls.

“You’ve made quite an impression on him.”

“Alex is a nice guy,” she said hesitantly. “A little odd–I’ll grant you that–but he’s been really great to me. I guess you could say he’s the closest thing I have to a friend out here.”

A little odd?
What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Finn smiled. “I’m just glad to know you haven’t been out here alone.”

“I’m sure that’s why it took you a month to introduce yourself,” Ana said.

“I was trying to respect your privacy.”

“Someone in a small town trying to respect the privacy of the new girl?” She laughed shortly. “Somehow, I’m skeptical.”

Alex could see Finn walking toward Ana, and the two were now face to face. “I don’t know. I just sensed that you wanted your space.”

The silence on the porch was so thick that Alex was afraid to even breathe for fear of giving himself away. He had a horrible, sinking feeling that they were kissing or about to. His stomach dropped, but then, to his relief, Ana turned away from Finn.

“It’s getting cold,” she said.

Alex saw Finn lift a sweater off a chair and drape it over Ana. “Storm is coming,” he said, standing behind her. Too close for Alex’s comfort. “Let’s go in.”

The sound of the screen door clanking against the wooden frame reverberated through Alex’s skull, over and over. The pain was so intense that it was now also a sound, in the form of a high-pitched screech that was so loud and so deafening that Alex worried that surely others had to be hearing it too. He gripped the sides of his head and stumbled back toward the driveway, kicking the box of food over as he did, hobbling down the long stretch toward his truck.

Alex threw himself across the bucket seat, nearly tearing the glove box open. He rifled around for the pills–he knew he had some in here–and his hand stopped as it grasped a bottle, finally. He ripped the childproof lid clear off the bottle, taking half of the bottle with it, as he swallowed twice the recommended dose. The rest of the pills dropped to the floor. Alex flopped back on the seat, trying to breathe and force the pain and the screeching sounds away.

Tonight had not gone as planned. At all. Finnegan St. Andrews was young, and handsome, and seemed to have almost no care in the world. Alex knew his history...knew about all of the girls Finn had dated on the island, how none of them had lasted. Ana didn’t deserve that! She deserved better. She deserved to be cared for, and respected. Finn would see her as nothing more than something new to play with.

Alex closed his eyes and waited for the pain to pass so he could drive home. When he finally started the engine, the throbbing was a dim memory and his mind was clear.

“My job is to take care of you Ana,” he said, not realizing he was speaking aloud. “I’ve always done my job.
Always
. I’m not going to stop now.”

The house wasn't as bad as Ana made it out to be. The kitchen was in a bit of disarray from the food carnage, but she was a very tidy person from what he could see from the rest of the house. If it weren't for the book on one of the end tables that had a bookmark in it, a cup of cold coffee next to it, Finn might wonder if anyone even lived in the house.

After the tour, she set to tidying up the kitchen while he started preparing the food. She had taken her sweater off and had on a plain white tee. At one point she caught him watching and he looked down quickly, embarrassed.
 

Finn wasn't sure what it was about her that interested him. He barely even knew her. She was very different from the kind of women he normally dated: girls with big personalities, big other things, and small tendencies for commitment. He knew his lifestyle was simple, and that most girls would realize that at some point and it would go no further. His easygoing ambitions wouldn’t change, and he was okay with that, but he knew most women wouldn’t be. He dated accordingly.

He wasn't nervous around her. He didn't feel the need to put on an act, or be tough. Ana was down-to-earth, and she instantly put him at ease...even if he did feel silly about getting caught watching her. What could Finn say, though? That he wasn't just checking her out? It was more like fascination than coveting.
Who is this girl?

She remarked that it must be so painful for a lobster to be boiled alive, and he told her that the lobster had no pain sensors. She seemed amazed he would know that. “If only we could be as fortunate as lobsters," she said.

"Fortunate enough to be boiled alive and eaten?"
 

"No, to be able to go through the worst things imaginable, and feel no pain."

She was joking, but Finn saw something in Ana’s eyes that made him want to stand up and hug her.

And then there was that moment when he had cut his finger with the kitchen knife. She ran to his side and took his hand in hers, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath. He started to tell her it was fine, to lie that it didn’t hurt, but then, suddenly…it
didn’t
hurt. Finn looked at his hand and the bleeding had stopped. Her mouth was open in shock and surprise, and she was smiling, but when he asked her what that was about, she just shook her head and mumbled something about how squeezing a wound just right dulled the pain.

Finn grinned at her suspiciously. “My father was a doctor, and I don’t remember that technique,” he teased, but she was already setting the table.

After dinner, he asked her why she had come to Maine. He thought he already knew but he wanted to hear her say it. How many other people had come to Maine for inspiration or to write the big novel?

But Ana surprised him when she said, "I don't know. I guess I just wanted something different." She studied him, half expecting him to smirk. When he didn't, she relaxed and added, "I didn't use my father's money to come here, either. I know that's what people think. I have made my own money, doing my own things. And I own this house myself."

"I didn't think that, and I wouldn't know what others say," Finn told her. "But I understand about getting away."

"Do you? You seem happy here."

"I didn't say I wasn't happy," he said. "Just that sometimes it would be nice to get away."

Ana nodded. There was a dark, faraway look in her eye; there was more to her story. Finn sensed she even wanted to share it with someone, but she seemed to have a fortress built around her.  He had another urge to hug her.

They talked, then, for hours. She told him about growing up in New Orleans, her family, and college. Ana was an only child. She mentioned only briefly the money her family came from, and though he was curious, she didn’t linger on the topic long. She seemed embarrassed about her background, and a few times she even sounded apologetic.

Finn told her about growing up on the island. About his father, and his visionary medical practice. He talked about his choice to both go to college and subsequently abandon it. He also told her about Jon, and his dreams of being a doctor, and how he had quit suddenly to go to veterinary school. She raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

He realized at some point when they were talking that there was another reason he went after the type of girls he usually did. The smarter girls made him feel inadequate. It wasn't enough for him to tell them he went to college, that he had read the same books; that he actually could understand the things they talked about but excluded him from. He would always be Finnegan St. Andrews to them; the fisherman. Those worlds did not blend.

But around Ana, who was clearly well educated, he felt like he was in equal company. She didn't look at him with pity or condescension. She just saw a man who was interesting company.

"How long are you going to stay?" Finn hoped that she heard nothing more than just the question in his voice.

"I don't know. I like it here, but I feel no different really than I did when I was at home. I don't think changing locations changed anything. Maybe there is just something fundamentally wrong with me." Ana laughed, but he didn’t think she was joking.

“There’s something fundamentally wrong with
all
of us,” he teased.
 

She looked at the table, dropping her eyes. "You really have no idea, Finn.”

He had that sense again, that she had stories to tell and needed to get them off her chest. “So, tell me.”

Ana shifted her gaze toward the window, still avoiding his eyes. “I’m really messed up.”

Finn didn’t say anything. He thought she would stop talking and withdraw altogether if he tried to argue with her, and he wanted to hear what she had to say.

“I wish I could say that I was just lost, and didn’t know myself...but the problem is, I
do
know myself. I know exactly who I am, and I’m not lost.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to talk to people. You know how you see people at a restaurant and they’re having a meaningful conversation, and it looks completely natural? I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to talk about my feelings, and I don’t know how to help others with theirs.”

He couldn’t help himself from saying, “You’re doing it right now.”

Ana gave that same short laugh, as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “Because I hardly know you, and I know that once I tell you how fucked up I am, I’m not going to know you for much longer.”

Finn shook his head. “We’re all fucked up, Ana. But go on, so I can prove you wrong.”

Her eyes were glistening, but she was not crying. Her cheeks were a rosy pink and she was breathing rapidly. “I don’t have any friends except my cousin, and he’s just as messed up as I am. I haven’t had a boyfriend that ever lasted longer than three months, and every relationship I’ve ever had ended because of me. It’s always the
men
telling
me
that I am too emotionally detached...that I can’t talk about my feelings…that I am cold and withdrawn...”

Finn was thinking that this was exactly how his brother Jon felt.

“The feelings are there,” Ana continued, “I just don’t know how to articulate them. It’s like, I open my mouth, and there’s a small hand wrapped around my neck, stopping me from speaking. One time, I had a boyfriend tell me he loved me and all I could do was cough. I mean it, I literally coughed; I couldn’t speak...there were so many things running through my head and all I could do was freaking
cough
...”

She stood up and poured herself a glass of water. “He said I had ice in my heart. I didn’t know how to disagree with him. I have feelings...” Ana paused and looked down at her water, swirling it around in the glass. “I don’t know how to explain to people what it is like to be a prisoner of your own thoughts.”

“I’m still here,” Finn said. “You haven’t scared me off yet.”

“I’m not finished,” she replied. He motioned for her to go on.

“So, finally,” Ana continued, “I gave up. I can’t be someone I’m not and I was tired of going through the exact same motions with every relationship.” She walked back to the table and sat down. She stared out the window, at the water, again. “It all started so innocently. A one-night stand isn’t a crime. But afterward, after I was back in my own bed and I thought back on the evening, I felt...relieved. Happy, even. I don’t even remember learning his name, I just remember how much I enjoyed myself...the freedom of release, but without having to explain myself.”

Finn couldn’t help himself from laughing. “So you discovered you like sex. Congratulations, Ana, you’re human!”

“It’s more than that. Maybe if I had stopped there, or even just did it occasionally. But I started doing it several times a week. Different men every time. When I started recognizing the same men in the same pubs, I started going to a different part of town. Instead of businessmen, now it was cops, and firemen, and construction workers.” She looked up at him. “The worst part is, I can’t even quantify this sick side of me, because at some point I lost count.”

Finn hadn’t been expecting this admission, but he wasn’t put off by it. “Would you feel better if I told you I lost count at some point too?”

“I’m not joking. I’m not making this up.”

“I know you’re not,” he said. “And I don’t care. Do you see me running out the door in horror? I don’t do relationships, either. Never have.” That wasn’t entirely true. He had before, but he was older now, and he knew he had next to nothing to offer a woman.

Ana stared at length, studying him. “I don’t want to be like this,” she said finally.

Finn was unsure of what to say to that. She was obviously torn in half by who she was, and he couldn’t relate to that. He knew who he was, knew his limitations, and had accepted them long ago.

“Do you know why I never came to introduce myself?” She asked, eyes fixed on his. “Because, Finn, you remind me of exactly the kind of man I’m trying to stay away from.”

Finn didn’t know what to make of that, either. He wanted to insist that he wasn’t like those men, but how could he, without trivializing how she felt? “Maybe I’m a good influence. I mean, you’re here, talking about your feelings, something you claim to be incapable of doing. We could have had sex three times in the time we’ve been talking.”

She laughed, caught off guard. “This has been the strangest conversation of my life so far. Maybe the longest, too.”

“I can honestly say the same,” he said with a laugh. “But, for what it’s worth, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” He lowered his voice. “You wanna know why I do it?”

Ana nodded.

Finn pointed at the ocean. “Every day, I get up, get dressed, and go out on the sea. I come home every night and have dinner with my brother. Sometimes I go into town, go drinking, and go–well, you know–but that’s it. I don’t want anything else, and, like you said, I can’t change. There’s no woman out there who’s going to want that for the rest of her life.” He stopped and put his hand over hers. “We all have our reasons.”