Authors: Erin McCarthy
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #New Adult, #Contemporary, #General
“Good to see you.” He gave my arm an awkward pat.
And Aubrey wondered why I didn’t share my feelings. No one in my entire life ever had. No one except for Heath. He had shared everything with me.
“Goodbye, Billy. Tell Sheri I said hi.”
“Will do, kiddo.”
I caught the ferry, noticing that the faces were the same. Older, but the same. Both working the boat and taking passage on it. I got curious stares, people who knew who I was but not me personally, and were unwilling to speak to me. But neither did they talk about me, whispering to each other, and I welcomed the reticence of island residents. They minded their own business and let me tend to mine. They would talk, but it would be later, behind closed doors. For the first time ever, I appreciated that, especially after hearing the girls back at the house not even attempting to be covert in their gossip.
They were supposed to be my friends, yet they hadn’t hesitated to talk about me. Some had even taken just a smidge of satisfaction in seeing me taken down a notch. Girls were competitive without even meaning to be, and even though they had liked me, I had still scored the big prize in Ethan.
That made me ultimately a target.
But here, there was silence. Solace. It was cold, windy, but it felt good. I sucked in the ocean scent, staring over the railing at the dark waves crashing into the rocky shore as we pulled away. I hadn’t been home since the funeral.
It felt weird to be doing it now. I hadn’t expected to ever go back, honestly. A few times a year I visited Mom and Tiff would take the ferry in to spend some time with me, and that had been enough. I hadn’t wanted to actually set foot in Vinalhaven.
But now it felt like the only place I could go. It was the only place that was lonelier than me, and we understood each other.
Tiffany opened the door to her grandmother’s clapboard house, the paint peeling from the salt water and wind, and stepped outside onto the front stoop. I could hear shouting from inside.
“What’s she saying?” I asked, leaning around Tiffany’s shoulder to see inside the house.
“She’s just calling me a bitch. She says her oatmeal is too hot.” Tiffany rolled her eyes. “She says I’m trying to kill her. Who ever died from a roof of the mouth burn? Whatever.”
It was probably the only thing that could have made me feel worse that day. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. “Tiff, you need to go to college. Seriously. The neighbors will look in on her. It’s not fair that you’re stuck here and she treats you like shit.”
“I’m not wired that way. I can’t just leave her. But I did apply to URock. Maybe I can leave her for a few hours a few days a week, or take online classes for awhile at least. I was thinking about getting a nursing degree.”
God knew she was skilled enough already taking care of people. “That’s a great idea. You look adorable, by the way. Love the hair.”
She was growing it out. It sort of fell all over in an exaggerated shag. She shook it. “Thanks. I’m sorry you can’t come in, but I don’t think she would be happy with me.”
“It’s okay.” I had never intended to stay with Tiffany. I knew the situation. “I’m just glad to see you.”
“Me, too.” She gave me a searching look. “I’m really sorry about Ethan.”
My eyes dropped to the ground. I couldn’t stop them. The pain was still too fresh, too raw. “Yeah. It sucks.”
“Want to sit down?” She gestured to our feet. “Pull up a step.”
“Why don’t you sneak out after she’s asleep? I’ll be at my house.”
“They probably turned the water off, you know.”
I shrugged. “We still have the outhouse.” Even as I said though, my nose involuntarily wrinkled. I’d gotten used to living in the dorms and the sorority house, where everything was cared for by the university. I hadn’t gone hard core in a long time. It was amazing how quickly you could get used to an easier lifestyle.
Tiffany’s grandmother started yelling again.
“For someone with emphysema she hollers an awful lot,” I commented.
She laughed. “Yeah, no shit. It’s amazing what self-righteous anger can do to your lung capacity.”
I was glad that she could laugh but honestly, it broke my heart. I wanted more than anything for Tiffany to have a happier life. She was so smart and kind and loyal and yet no one appreciated her. Except for me.
“I’ll talk to you later,” she said. “If it gets weird at your house or there is no electricity let me know.”
“Yep.” I gave her a wave and jumped off the porch, feeling oddly lighter than I had since Ethan had come back from Boston. My heart was broken, but I wasn’t trapped. I was never going to be trapped again.
There was still a key in the garage under some old flowerpots no one had put flowers in for twenty years. I shoved the key into the kitchen door lock and turned. It resisted but then gave way with a click. I pushed the door with my shoulder to get it open. The room was dim and dusty. The air felt heavy and still, undisturbed for a long time. Even though the house was for sale it didn’t look like anyone had been there to view it. Reaching over I flipped up the switch and to my surprise the lights actually came on. Hell, yeah.
I went from room to room. It wasn’t a big house. It was shabby, even shabbier than I remembered now that I had been away from it. It smelled musty and there were mouse droppings in various corners. But it still had me swallowing hard, good memories coming to mind. Everywhere I looked, I saw my father, smiling, laughing. I saw my mother, in better days, calling me over to her so she could brush my hair stroke after stroke. I loved when she did that, her hands a little shaky, but gentle, loving. I had closed my eyes and given in to the small shivers of pleasure that the sensation had caused.
And I saw Heath in the house, me teasing him, flicking water from the sink at him while we washed dishes. I saw him holding up his finger to me to be quiet as we snuck out past my father sleeping on the couch, his eyes full of mischief and love.
Sitting on the front porch after my melancholy house tour, staring out at the water off in the distance, I cradled my phone in my lap and jammed my hands into my pockets. I wanted to cry, yet my eyes were dry. I just felt fragile, like glass. No longer numb, but no longer determined to ignore my feelings. I wanted to let them in, grieve for the loss of Ethan, our future. Yet even though I dragged in and out deep cleansing breaths, the tears I expected, craved, never came. Maybe there weren’t any left.
I was waiting for Ethan to text. That was just so Ethan, to apologize, to offer further explanation. But he didn’t. It made me feel like I had left in every sense of the word. That I could stay in Vinalhaven and no one on campus would miss me. Would even notice I was gone. Because if Ethan didn’t care, who would?
My friendship with Aubrey, which I hoped would continue, was forever changed.
When my phone buzzed, I glanced down in disinterest, assuming it was Tiffany saying she couldn’t leave the house. It was dark, cold. I could hear the waves in the distance but other than that, the night was quiet. My phone seemed too loud here and I turned the sound off.
It wasn’t Tiffany. It was Heath.
Your friend said you went home. Are you in Vinalhaven?
Yes.
For how long? Want me to come up there?
Did I want that? I wasn’t sure.
But when I looked around I realized that Heath was already with me. He was everywhere in the house.
While my pain over Ethan was private, no one knew me like Heath did, not even Tiffany.
Tomorrow. If you want.
So easy for him to reel me it. I couldn’t resist.
I want.
And now I no longer had my relationship with Ethan to protect me.
Chapter Twelve
That night I slept in my old room but the house made sounds I didn’t remember. It moaned and creaked and strained against the wind. Maybe it was because for the entirety of my life, I had never been alone in the house. Not once. There was always at least one parent or my brother or a foster sibling or three. No one was ever out of the house all at once and definitely never at night. Heath wouldn’t have been able to come that night anyway, not since I’d taken the second ferry, the last of the day, but I still wished he was with me as I huddled under stale sheets.
I’d never been afraid in the house before, and that wasn’t what I felt then either. It was more the realization that the world I’d built for myself wasn’t real. That even surrounded by people, I had always been completely and utterly alone.
Just like I was now.
Digging under the mattress in the dark, I pulled out my diary from high school. For a minute I just lay there, pressing the notebook against my chest. Then I rolled over and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. There was only a single dim bulb but it was enough to see the spiral notebook. It was just a simple purple cover with college rule pages inside that I had gotten at the drugstore for a dollar. Inside, I had started by recording thoughts and some bad poetry, but mostly I had been too restless to sit and put down my feelings in a coherent way.
Instead I had written lists. The classes I would take in college. What I wanted for food at my graduation party (which never happened). Everything I ate in one day just out of curiosity. Things I was good at. Things I was bad at.
And I wrote Heath’s name, over and over, almost absently. I wrote it in the margins surrounding my lists. Heath Deprey.
Heath Deprey
. Heath Wolf Deprey.
Then the natural second name- Cat Deprey. Caitlyn Michaud Deprey.
I had planned our wedding in that notebook. I flipped through the pages and read my looping large handwriting outlining details on a backyard clam bake. I wanted to wear a sundress and be barefoot. Funny how I hadn’t remembered any of that the few times Ethan and I had talked about our wedding. I’d had a more traditional ceremony and reception in mind, with a ball gown image in my head.
Neither one felt real or possible now.
When I fell asleep I dreamed that I stood on one side of the bay and Heath stood on the other. I shouldn’t have been able to see him in the rain, but I could. I knew it was him even from so far away. But I couldn’t reach him.
He turned and walked away, leaving me alone, and I screamed his name. I begged him to stay. Then Ethan appeared next to me on the cliff and when I asked him for help, he pushed me off the side. I fell in slow motion, arms out, crashing towards the rocks and the ocean, wind in my hair…
I sat up straight in bed, sweaty. I’d left the lamp on and I reached for it and flicked it off. Then I fell back on the bed in the darkness, the only sounds my breathing and the pounding of my heart.
I told myself I wouldn’t watch for him, but I knew when the ferry came. And I knew how long it would take him to walk up from the dock. So when I got a text that said he was coming up the drive, I’d already seen him out the window. He walked the same way he had the first day, with confidence, not bothering to look left or right. His eyes were trained on the house. On me.
Given that I had already encouraged him to come ninety minutes away and across the bay to see me, there was no point in pretending that I wasn’t glad to see him. I yanked the door open and jogged down the steps to meet him. “Hey,” I said, stopping in front of him and pulling a stray hair out of my mouth. “I can’t believe you came up here.”
Of course I was still upset about Ethan, but it was a totally separate thing from the cautious giddiness I felt when I saw Heath. Without thinking about the consequences, I threw my arms around him and gave him a hug. He gripped me back, hard, and kissed the side of my head.
After the last time I’d seen him, it felt amazingly comforting.
“Of course I came. I’m sorry about your father, by the way, if I didn’t say it before. You know I liked and admired him a lot. He was one of the only people who was ever nice to me.”
“He cared about you,” I said truthfully, pulling back to study Heath. “How did you know he died?”
He just shrugged. “I made sure I knew what was going on back here. I really wanted to come to the funeral but I was in Afghanistan then.” Heath took my hand in his and led me up the stairs, glancing around the porch. “It looks exactly the same. Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything’s changed,” I whispered in disagreement, though I didn’t mean the peeling paint or the plastic chair in the corner. “So you haven’t been back at all?”
“I’ve been to Rockland but this is my first time on the island since the day I left four years ago.” He let go of my hand and paced back and forth, gripping the banister and surveying the yard, the wild overgrown grass and the gravel drive. “So why doesn’t Brian live here?”
That made me snort. “Please. There isn’t enough entertainment here for Brian. Or women to take advantage of. Everyone on the island knows exactly what a tool he is.”
“That he is.” Heath glanced back at the house. “Is everything still on? Power? Water?”
“Yes, surprisingly. But it’s freezing in there. You know the windows and insulation suck. I’m spoiled now. The thought of a January here in this drafty house makes me shiver.”
“Are you thinking of spending January here?”
“No, of course not.”
“Where do you go for winter break?” he asked, walking to the end of the porch to inspect the wood pile that was still there.
The stack of logs was probably housing an entire colony of mice at this point. I didn’t want to answer his question. Freshman year I’d spent the week of Christmas at home with my father and the rest of the break alone in the dorm. Sophomore year I’d gone to the Walsh’s for a week with Ethan. The rest of the break hadn’t been lonely at all because I’d had him, and Aubrey, and other girls in the house. This year? I had nowhere to go and no one to spend Christmas with at all.
The thought made me feel infinitely sorry for myself. “I guess I will stay at the sorority house this year.” I’d run outside in just my sweatshirt and I rubbed my arms.
“Let’s get you a coat,” he said. “Then go for a walk.”
I knew where he would want to go. He’d always been drawn to the rocks, where the ocean crashed into the shore and created a foamy spray. “Okay. Give me a second.”