But she’s my sister, so I packed up in a day and flew to Maine. I thought a change of scenery would help me escape the ghosts of my past. I hoped my demons only haunted the house Mason and I shared, the car we drove, the places we visited. I didn’t know they’d taken up residence in my mind, not allowing me to escape them no matter how far I traveled.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Need me to help get the kids settled?” I toss the covers off, ready to solve the problem I caused.
“No. Stay here. Lou will fall back asleep. I’ll bring Emmy into bed with me.” She tucks me in the same way I did for her while we were growing up.
“I’m settling into a new place. I’m sure that’s all this is. I’ll be okay,” I lie. I’ve relived my nightmare many nights since the accident. Though up until a week ago, I didn’t have anyone around to disrupt.
Her lips turn downward. The same expression I’ve seen on her face since I got here. Not that I think I caused it. Fucking Chad is responsible for that look. I’m just not helping to change it. Yet. It’s something I plan to remedy.
She pats my shoulder and leaves my room, closing the door behind her. I cover my eyes with an arm and blow out a breath. I need to get my shit together. Not for my own well-being, that ship has sailed. But for Sara. I’ve always been the person she can rely on. Losing Mason doesn’t change that.
It’s not surprising that the Warren kids are reunited and back to being the ones who everyone pities. Sad and only having each other to rely on. The difference now is, we have the two innocent souls she brought into the world to take care of. Emmy and Lou, named after Emmylou Harris, and who are our silver lining.
I roll onto my side and hug my pillow. I needed some sleep tonight. I start my job at the BFB Fishing Company tomorrow, and I want to make a stellar impression.
I’m only qualified for commercial fishing and this is a one shop town, so I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this job. I’ve been living off mine and Mason’s share of the money from the sale of the boat and crabbing company for well over a year now, but it won’t last forever. Not to mention Sara is relying on me to help out with her bills.
I flip over onto my back and spin the ring on my finger. It’s the only thing of Mason’s I kept. I’d planned to give Mason the gold band with a Koa wood inlay on the night he died. He would’ve loved it. The perfect mix of traditional and outdoorsy, just like him. He wanted everything normal people wanted. To be married, have kids, a house, a dog, all of it. But he wanted to do it in Alaska, living off the land. I was ready to make all his dreams come true, even if I wasn’t sure I had what it took.
Since I’m the one who raised my sister, I know what you have to give up in order to have a family and I wasn’t sure I wanted to make the sacrifice again. But when you love someone as much as I loved Mason, you don’t care what the future looks like. Just as long as they’re in it. And he would’ve been the best dad ever. I couldn’t take that away from him.
I bring my phone to life and see it’s four in the morning. There’s no point in trying to sleep now. The early bird gets the worm and if you want to catch the fish, you need the worm.
I climb out of bed feeling exhausted, but ready to see what fresh hell my new life has to offer.
The fog is so thick, it’s as though I’m breathing in water as I step onto the wooden pier. The sun is on the horizon and preparing to make its ascent into the sky. I tug my beanie down further to keep my earlobes warm. Plumes of steam billow out of my mouth with my breaths and the salty air settles on my tongue in a familiar way. I missed being out on the ocean. She’s a bitch, but she’s a bitch I know, and I’ve been landlocked for too long.
As I step onto the long wooden dock, I spot a guy with a clipboard in his hand, directing the fishermen to their boat for the day. I’m assuming he’s my boss. I tuck my hands behind the bib of my orange shoreman pants. The neoprene is stiff because I had to buy a new pair. I burned everything that reminded me of Mason after the accident. Surprisingly, it was comforting to put them back on this morning. They’d been a staple in my wardrobe for so long, I didn’t realize I’d missed it.
“You Henry?” I ask the man, setting my backpack on the ground.
He tucks the clipboard under his arm and holds a hand out to me. “I am. You must be Archer?”
“That’s me. I’m ready to be put to work.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I’m sending you out with Oliver. He’s been around a long time and he’ll help you get the swing of things.” He points to a white painted wooden boat named Lucky.
“Thanks, man. I’ll see you later.” I toss my backpack over my shoulder and approach Lucky. She’s a beauty.
I step on board and find Oliver at the bulkhead, starting the engine to warm it up. It roars to life, sending vibrations through my body. I look around and see the traps are already loaded on deck, so we’ll be able to push off soon.
“Oliver?” I shout over the loud motor.
He turns and flashes a smile. He’s an older guy, probably late fifties, and has the average fisherman appearance. A beard to keep your face warm, bib overalls, a beanie, and a pair of duck boots.
“You the new guy?”
“Yep. Archer.”
“Nice to meet you, Archah. You fish for lobstah before?” he asks in a thick New England accent.
“No, I’m a king crab guy, but I’m a fast learner.”
“Great, ’cause I’m a fast teachah. Let’s go make some money.” He walks up the side of the boat, gaffs the mooring rope, and unhooks us. Then we’re off.
It’s been over a year since I’ve felt the massive rolling waves of the open ocean. It’s this motion that tends to make people queasy, but for me, it’s like the swaying of a rocking chair. It’s comforting and I feel as though I’m finally at home. I didn’t realize how much my sea legs missed staying fluid. I immediately unlock my knees to keep my balance and roll with the motion. It’s like dancing, you have to follow your partner’s lead. My partner is this body of water and I’m ready to bust a move.
“You wanna bait the traps?” Clemens calls out.
“On it.” I find the mesh bags of oily herring and tie them to each trap. It’s stinky and gross, but like everything else about the day, it’s like breathing to me. It comes naturally.
The day goes smoothly. Throwing traps, picking up others, banding the claws of the lobster and tossing them in a holding pen over and over again. The repetitiveness gives my mind time to wander because if I look out at the vast expanse of the ocean, memories try and sneak up. But I’m careful to reel them back in before visions of the angry Pacific take over and it’s not the calm Atlantic I see.
That memory doesn’t belong anywhere near here.
Kian
I gaze out the windows of my wine bar, Focus, that overlooks Mainstreet. Dante and Jaxson walk past, hand in hand. Barf on a cracker. My closeted high school sweetheart refused to claim his sexuality when he was with me, but Dante rides into town with his giant checkbook and suddenly Jax’s parading around town waving a rainbow flag.
Whatever. My ass is so much better than Dante’s.