by Marie Snow
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in notes from the wine that still coated my tongue and the back of my throat, but also smelling nature.
Freshly cut grass, night blooming flowers, the scent of moss in the trees and lining the rocks along the water’s edge. I opened my eyes and felt a relaxation that was fleeting these days, begin to settle inside of me. I had to believe this was a good fit for Matthew and me, that moving to Liar’s Island had been a good choice. Because worrying about how things might have been better in Stillwake wasn’t a reality.
Too many memories.
Too much past hurt and pain… trauma and destruction.
The looks we got from people who still lived there after all these years, who’d been around when that shit had happened with the murders… was too much for anyone to bear.
It was too much for me, and I knew it had to have a lasting effect on Matthew.
I brought my wine glass to my mouth again and took a long drink, staring at that boat, at the water that seemed so serene and calm. I’d never felt those things--not really--not thoroughly.
Not the kind that brought a person peace.
But I’d forced myself to stay for my son. There hadn't been much choice once he got locked away. I’d never leave him, never move away. He needed me the most then.
He still does.
Could I be overprotective, overbearing even? Yes. I didn’t even deny it. But God, he was all I had. He was the only person in my life that meant anything. He was the only person still alive that had my heart. My mother was gone. Matthew’s father was gone. I was alone. So alone that if not for my son, there would be a hole in my heart.
If not for Matthew, I wouldn’t be breathing. I knew that as surely as I knew I was drawing air into my lungs. I wanted to give him space to grow and heal and stand on his own two feet.
And maybe Liars Island was just the place to make that our reality.
6
Matthew
“So, how was your first day?” Jenny asked me. Her voice was vivacious, bubbly even. She was unlike any girl--person--I’d ever met. I, of course, had limited experience, unless you counted my therapists, doctors, nurses, or my mother. Sofie definitely hadn’t been vivacious. Hell, some days she was just a straight up bitch. But she’d cared for me, and it had been the first time I'd ever really experienced that. I could admit I loved her—at least in my way, in the only way I knew how to love. It wasn’t like I truly understood that emotion. I’d never really experienced love and that made knowing how to interact with a girl almost impossible. I tried with Sofie, though, and we were happy.
I thought I’d been happy.
I wanted to be.
But had I really been? Had I just been pretending, or trying to fit in because that was what was normal?
It would have been better for her if she’d never met me.
Maybe better for both of us.
“It was good. This place gets more business than you would think,” I responded. I felt lame saying that. I didn’t really know how to respond, though I was trying to force myself to take part in the conversation, to be present.
To be normal.
That’s what my therapists always stressed. Be present. They repeated that over and over to me, demanding I make it a daily mantra. There was this dry erase marker that hung in my room across from my bed. It was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes and the last thing I had a view of when the medicine took me back under. Every morning before even one of my eyes had opened, the nurse on duty would write their name and under it they always wrote two words. Be present.
Like that was so fucking easy.
“Did you hear me, Matthew?” Jenny asked, and as she questioned me, she reached out her hand and let her fingers touch my arm.
It was an innocent touch. There was no emotion behind it, no intent and no change in her voice, but it was enough to scare me. Fear overtook me for a minute. It swept through me with a deadly force--to the point that it choked me.
I hated that I was like this. I hated that something as simple as someone’s touch made me react in terror. Most of all, I hated that I could see the shock on Jenny’s pretty face.
“I… uh… I have to go,” I stuttered and turned from her.
“Matthew? Wait!” she called out, as I heard her running toward me. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m sorry I touched you. I stepped over the line. I’m sorry.”
I stopped only when I got to my mother’s car and closed my eyes, feeling like a freak, like I was so out of touch with reality and what was “normal” that I wasn’t present.
Be present. Be present.
I opened the door resisting the urge to just get in and driven away. Just go. Drive fast and far and go far away from here. Something made me look up at Jenny, though. Something made me freeze in place, forcing me to face this. I didn’t know what it was. Some unseen force maybe. Whatever it was, I stood there behind the make-believe safety of an opened car door and I stared at the first person to touch me without a glove on their hand for longer than I cared to remember.
“You didn’t bother me,” I denied, although we both knew that was a lie. “I’m just late. I remembered I had to pick my mother up from work.”
“Oh. I was hoping maybe you’d want to get a bite to eat at the Burger Shack.”
My chest squeezed at the offer. I didn’t know if that was more from fear or something else. “I can’t,” I muttered and was about to get into the car when Jenny pressed the subject further.
“What about tomorrow? My treat,” she said with a helpless shrug. “I assume you’ve never eaten there, and it would be a crime not to try Burger Shack. It’s like a staple on the island.”
A crime. “I don’t work tomorrow,” I pointed out, the words coming out of me before I could stop them. “I have other stuff to do,” I invented, grateful for the excuse because it gave me the illusion of being normal. I figured that it was better than telling her I couldn’t because I couldn’t be trusted not to hurt her, and also because my mother wouldn’t allow it.
Bitterness burned inside of me.
“C’mon, Matthew, you have to eat,” she replied proving that she was not the type to give up easily.
What would that be like? How would it feel to not be afraid to try? To even breathe?
“I’m busy tomorrow,” I lied again.
“Friday then. You work Friday. I know because Cole makes everyone work Friday, so he doesn’t have to.”
“I have to pick my mom up. We only have one car.”
“Let your mom drop you off at work. I’ll take you home.”
My throat tightened, that uncomfortable feeling in my chest intensifying. “Why?” I asked her, because at this point I had no idea why she was even pushing the matter. It was pretty clear I wasn’t being cooperative.
“You’re new in town. You seem like you need a friend, and to be honest, I do, too,” she shrugged. Then she held up her hands as if in surrender, or submission. “Oh God, do you think I’m being a pushy bitch and like… hitting on you?” Her eyes were wide, and she shook her head. “I swear, totally innocent. Just two friends and coworkers getting something to eat. I swear.”
I started to say no. I truly did. Then, I remembered my therapist telling me it was important to get out and try to blend in. She said if I ever wanted to have a semi-normal life I needed to be present.
I thought about last night with the neighbors outside partying on the boat. I thought about how happy and carefree they seemed and how envious I was. Then, I thought about my mother bringing me medication and standing at my door until she had proof I took it, like I was a child, like I didn’t have a choice.
Finally, I remembered I didn’t really have a choice. My whole life I never had. Except right this moment. I had the chance to at least pretend. I could fake it.
I don’t want to, but I will. I want to try.
If I was successful enough, maybe my mother would back off. Maybe I could even pretend to be
normal.
And that thought alone made me nod yes.
“Okay,” I responded. “Friday.”
Her smile was instant and wide and… pretty. “Great.” She seemed over the fucking moon with me giving in, and again that pressure in my chest intensified, until I couldn’t breathe. “Take care, Matthew,” she called over her shoulder, as she jogged toward the gas station, not giving me a chance to say anything in response.
I stood there a moment, but finally snapped out of it and got in the car. As I slammed the door shut, I worried how my mother would react.
I may need to call the new therapist. After all, it would be good to have backup to convince my mother that having dinner with Jenny was my first step into being normal.
I just hoped I didn’t regret it. And as I backed out of my parking spot, I truly prayed Jenny didn’t regret it.
7
Michelle
Matthew was acting weird. Stranger than usual. He was on edge, antsy, and I kept noticing him glancing at me. I knew there was something on his mind, but with Matthew he’d keep it bottled up until either it ate away at him, or I pressed enough that he caved. The former was more how things went, but this was a new start, and I didn’t want us going down the same dark paths like in Stillwake.
I waited by the front door as he grabbed what he needed. I was dropping him off at the gas station for work, then heading in for my shift at Eco. I watched as he picked up his jacket and headed my way.
A glance up at me. A sharp look away. Lips firm and pursed. Body tense. He was clearly on a wire’s edge.
“Matthew?” I questioned, as I shifted to the side so he couldn’t walk by me and out the door. “What’s wrong?” He was forced to stop and look up. That mask of indifference was clearly in place once more. His blue eyes seemed calculating, but distant.
He’s hiding something.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” There was a moment of silence where he just stared right into my eyes. “We better go so I’m not late.” He took a step forward, not saying anything, nothing but a non-verbal cue that he’d like me to move.
I stepped aside and didn’t press him on what was wrong. I’d ask him in the car. He was usually pretty good at opening up to me eventually and letting me know what was on his mind. So hopefully today would go along the same lines.
We were silent as we headed to the Prius. Once inside with the doors shut and the engine on, I pulled onto the main road and headed toward the gas station. I let that silence linger for a little bit longer, before finally glancing over at him. He stared out the window, his body relaxed but I wasn’t fooled. He had something on his mind, and it was clearly important enough to physically affect him.
“Matthew,” I said softly but didn’t say anything else until I felt him look at me. “Please tell me what’s going on. I’m your mother.” I looked at him then pointedly. “I know when something’s bothering you.”
He was silent for several long moments and then exhaled slowly, as if he’d been holding his breath this whole time. “It’s nothing, not really. Not really.” He murmured those last two words under his breath as he continued to look out the passenger window again. “I was invited to go out to dinner after work tonight.” He said that last part a little too quickly. A little too quietly.
I felt my eyebrows rise to my hairline but focused on the road ahead. “That’s good,” I said before looking at him again.
He slowly turned his head toward me, but his expression was still unreadable.
“I mean it.” I don’t know why he needed me to reassure him that I was okay with this. But I could see in his eyes that he didn’t really believe me. So maybe I was the one doing the reassuring. To myself. “That’s the whole point of us leaving Stillwake. I want you to talk to people. I want you to get out. I want you to be able to have a normal life despite… everything else.” I tightened my hands on the steering wheel until I heard the leather creak.
I focused on the road, seeing the trees on either side of us move in a blur as I sped by them.
“Who are you going to dinner with?” His silence told me everything I needed to know—everything I already assumed. “That girl you work with? Jennifer?”
“Jenny,” he responded, but didn’t say anything else.
That was a thing with Matthew. When he was done talking about something that was it. And I knew better than to pry. I knew to leave well enough alone. And although he was an adult now, if something was bothering him I wanted to know. I didn’t want him spiraling out of control because he kept things inside, because he couldn’t handle what he was feeling or thinking.
I knew his therapist had taught him differently than that. He’d been taught how to use coping mechanisms that would help him relieve the pressure that he felt inside. Be present. Or so he told me his therapist said on repeat.
“Matthew?”
He exhaled. I could tell he was frustrated with me—which was fine. He could be angry with me all he wanted. He could be annoyed with me, freeze me out. Hate me even. I’d rather he feel those things toward me instead of himself.
“Yes. With Jenny. She wants to take me to a place called Burger Shack. Apparently, it’s a big deal here.” I could see him shrug in my peripheral.
I didn’t want to further aggravate him when he was already on a razor’s edge.
“So, what time do you want me to pick you up to take you to the restaurant?”
He shook his head and then rested it against the back of the chair. “Jenny is just going to take us both after work. It’s easier that way and makes the most sense.”
Creak.
My hands involuntarily tightened on the wheel once more. “Okay.” I wish you would’ve told me before now.
But I didn’t say that out loud. He was an adult. He could make his own choices. He didn’t have to let me know the plans he made right away.
“Is she bringing you home or should I pick you up?” He shifted on the seat and I glanced over at him. He still wasn’t looking at me, but I could see a muscle under his jaw tick.
He was on edge. I knew it was because of me. I felt it.
“You just let me know if you need me to pick you up, okay?”
“Yeah,” he said softly but with a tight voice.
The rest of the drive was done in silence, and when I pulled into the gas station, Matthew all but got out of the car before I even had a chance to fully stop. “Have a good day at work.”
He stopped, his hand tightening around the frame of the door. He looked over at me and nodded. “Thanks, Mom.” He shut the door, leaving me alone. I watched him walk toward the front doors, something in my chest tightening.
Before he got to the entrance, a young pretty girl stepped out with her long curly blonde hair that flowed behind her, as she gave Matthew a huge smile. They both stood there for a moment, conversing. That must be Jenny.
I could tell Matthew was still so tense, but she said something that had a sincere smile—albeit tight—forming on his lips. I didn’t know how I felt about this.
My son finally trying to move forward, trying to “be present”, was a good thing. I hoped he succeeded, but I needed to keep an eye on him and whatever transpired with this Jenny girl.
She didn’t know who Matthew was.
She didn’t know about his past.
She didn’t know about Sofie.
8
Jenny
Every time I looked up from my work, Matthew was watching me. I felt his eyes on me. There was this intensity behind his gaze that moved through me, but I couldn't gauge what was behind the look on his face, the expression he wore. I didn’t know what Matthew’s story was, and that had tension and a little bit of apprehension filling me. Although my curiosity to find out more overrode all of that. I truly wasn’t sure that I wanted to know at this point.
He was broken, though. That I could tell just by the way he held himself, the way he shrank away from personal contact. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that. He looked
so lost that it was painful to me. That’s why I asked him to the Burger Shack. He looked like he could use a friend. For the first time in my life, I wanted to be that person for him. I’d never felt that need as strongly as I did with Matthew.
I knew how that felt. My mother and I were looked down on in this town. That wasn’t a pity story, it was just the cold, hard facts.
We lived on a wealthy vacation island. My mom cleaned houses for the rich. And I worked with her and at the local gas station. The rich kids at school gave me hell for that alone. And I was counting down the days until I could get the hell off Liar’s Island. I only had one goal now and that was to bust my ass off to get off of this damn island. What kind of name was that anyway? Liar’s Island? You had to have bad karma for even living here.
I tried to convince my mom of that, but she just never listened to me. I was desperate to leave and to build a life somewhere new--a life where no one knew me. Where no one could judge me for what I didn’t have.
And I thought maybe I saw that same desperation in Matthew.
When our eyes locked, I gave him a reassuring smile. He looked puzzled, but he gave me a stiff version of the smile back. I found myself hoping that he would loosen up through dinner. If he didn’t, it was going to be a very long, uncomfortable evening.
Matthew was attractive, with striking features. His hair was so dark it was almost blacker than black, and eyes so blue they were a gorgeous contrast to the onyx locks. But despite his good looks, he definitely gave off the whole “leave me alone” vibe to the extreme. Maybe I should have listened, but for some reason, something in me made me want to reach out.
I spent the remainder of the day dusting and restocking the shelves. Matthew worked the pumps, swept, and cleaned outside. Mr. Baxter got these wild hairs from time to time where everything had to be super clean. I didn’t know why most of the time I thought it was silly, but I wasn’t the owner. I liked having this job, so I didn’t argue even though he had us redoing shit that we had just finished. But it also had the time going by fast, which meant a quicker workday, so I wasn’t complaining that much.