by Tracy Ewens
He was her deep breath, a warm splash of water on a clean face, and in that moment, she needed him more than she had ever needed a single person in her entire life. There it was, that word again. Need. Hollis had accepted the want, there was no denying it anymore. She loved him, always had. But she had joined the circus and even if she could find a new painting, how would they ever find a lighthouse?
Chapter Eighteen
Matt put the standard weekly reports in his bag and quickly took some pictures of the longer table he’d placed against the back wall of The Bean. He also took a picture of the display case that now had lights so customers could see the options during their evening hours. His father was still complaining of pain according to Matt’s mom, but she thought it might get his mind back on track if Matt could, instead of calling, come down and “give him a little in-person update.” That’s how it was presented. He had an early afternoon meeting in the city with a potential client looking for an app that allowed his clients to try on his specific hairstyles. The guy had some specific ideas and the project sounded fun. Matt had learned, mostly through trial and error, how to navigate the industry, but he still sought out fun. His father was another story, but Matt agreed to stop by for lunch after his meeting.
Handing over the hydrangeas he’d brought this time, Matt kissed his mom and took a seat in the living room. When she returned with iced tea, he pulled out his phone and shared the latest round of pictures from Poppy.
“Oh, now that’s adorable. I haven’t seen that one yet,” she said, holding his phone and looking at a picture of Eddie holding Hannah by the shore of the bay.
Matt smiled and his mom flipped through a couple more shots.
“Look at that sweet hat.” She turned the phone so he could see. “She’s precious.”
“She is.” Matt took back his phone.
“Who is?” his father asked from the other room.
“You’ll have to come and see for yourself,” she responded.
Matt rose to offer whatever help his father would accept, but his mom touched his arm.
“Leave him,” she said barely above a whisper. “The doctor advised that he needs to want to move at this point and do it on his own. He’ll get in here eventually. The curiosity will eat at him.”
Even though Matt had been stretched a little thin managing the shop, filling in for Poppy and his father and keeping an eye on his own company for the past three months, he didn’t envy his mother one bit. She looked tired. When his father joined them for lunch, it was clear why.
“It’s nice you bring pictures of other people’s children. Not like we have any grandchildren. Don’t you think that upsets your mother?” It was impressive that his father managed to get out all that anger in between bites of his sandwich.
“David,” Matt’s mother tried, as she did a lot lately, to ease the acid of her husband’s tongue.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m not sure how not having children is my fault, Dad. Did you want me to run out and get someone pregnant?”
His father huffed and took a potato chip off his plate. “Would have been nice if you’d stayed with your wife and made a family.”
Matt shook his head and was no longer hungry. He stood to clear his plate.
“I have cookies, Matt. Please stay.”
Taking his plate into the kitchen, he attempted to calm the frustration he felt when he was around his father. Everything, every single thing was Matt’s fault in his father’s eyes. Matt wouldn’t be surprised if their air conditioner went out and it was somehow made to be his fault too.
“Mom, I need to get going,” Matt said, returning to the living room and reaching in his bag for the reports. “Here’s the current inventory report and the sales for the past two weeks. Poppy is back part-time and should be ready to take things back in a month.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re happy about that,” his dad said.
Matt looked to his mother, who shook her head, her eyes pleading for patience. “It will be nice to get back to work,” Matt reluctantly replied and braced himself.
“Sure, what we do isn’t work,” his father said under his breath while flipping through the pictures of the baby on Matt’s phone. “What the hell is this?”
Matt put the reports on the coffee table and walked around to the back of his father, who was now sharing the picture with his mother.
“Oh, that looks great,” she said. “Where is that?”
“That’s our shop. He put a table in my shop.” He flipped to the next one. “And what? Why do we need lights in there? Those cases were fine as they were.”
Matt didn’t know why he bothered, but he tried anyway. “Dad, the table allows for more seating, and I dropped electric below so people can use their laptops. I also upgraded your Wi-Fi. It’s so much faster, and you know how Mrs. Higgans loves to shop on eBay while she and her husband have coffee. She’s thrilled.”
His father huffed. “There was nothing wrong with our service before, and what are these lights?”
Matt hunched over his father, hoping somehow getting closer to him would help, and pulled the lighting picture back up. “They’re small lights, and I ran them along the trim so no one can see them. The light runs up the case during the evening hours so people can see inside.”
His father didn’t say a word and gave Matt back his phone.
“Thank you, Matt. I think it looks lovely.” His mother cleared the rest of the lunch dishes.
Matt sat back down and pushed the reports across the table to his father.
“I don’t get why you forever need to change things.” His father’s face twisted in discomfort as he shifted his weight in the chair.
“I’ve never changed anything in your shops, but I’ve been there awhile and I thought I’d put some effort in, help. They’re improvements, Dad, meant to make things better.”
“I don’t care if it’s better. I want things to stop changing. Change is never good. When you left, that was not good. When your brother died, again not good.” His father’s eyes began to well up and Matt took a deep breath. The doctor said he would be emotional after surgery, but he would never get used to seeing his dad cry. He’d come to appreciate his grouchy disposition. At least he could argue with grouchy.
“I didn’t leave, Dad.”
His father held up his hand and winced when he adjusted again. “And this damn thing.” He gestured to his hip. “If I’d left the front path alone instead of putting those new pavers in, I would never have tripped. One more change that has messed me up.”
“The pavers were uneven.”
“They were fine,” his father almost shouted. “I like things the way they are. I liked when you were little and you used to follow me around. Now, now, look at you off doing something that has nothing to do with your family.”
His mother poked her head in from the kitchen, and Matt held up his hand to ask for a minute.
“I’m not having this argument with you again. I love the shop. I thought by doing a few things, I was showing you that. I’ve taken good care of things while Poppy was away, but I’m not going to apologize for choosing my own career.”
“Of course you aren’t, Mr. High and Mighty. That’s fine. I’ll be good as new soon.” He shifted and struggled with the pillow at his thigh.
Matt wanted to reach out and help him but saw no point. Whether his father was fueled by anger or pain, it didn’t matter. All of it was directed at him. Any minute now, his father would finish with something about his dead son being better and that would be Matt’s cue to leave before he said something he couldn’t take back.
“I’m sure John would have been perfectly happy to take over the shops.”
And there it was. Matt stood as his mother returned from the kitchen with some cookies. He leaned down and kissed his father on the cheek. His dad tensed but allowed it. He always did. No matter how far away from understanding each other they grew, the kiss was the last word. It had started when he was little being d
ropped off at school and it survived through his teenage years. The kiss said, “I might not like you, but I’ll always love you,” and came from his mother, who was half Italian on her mother’s side. Italians were big kissers and even though his father’s family were not big kissers, his dad tolerated the kiss and sometimes enjoyed it.
Matt kissed his mother good-bye without another word, afraid what might come spilling out of his mouth if he wasn’t careful, and left.
Hollis left the office late, which used to be second nature but now felt strange. People had dinner after work or went home and spent time with their families. Some met friends for happy hour or even went to a movie. Most people made it home right as the sun was setting; they weren’t leaving the office chasing dawn. She could have been in her pajamas by the time the evening news was over. She should have gone back to her apartment, but she didn’t.
Driving through Point Reyes and back to Mitchell’s Cove, Hollis looked at the clock on her dash and realized it was after midnight. The streets were empty. Even the light above the entrance of the restaurant was out. She pulled off the road and noticed Matt’s house was dark. He was probably asleep already. Again, most people were tucked into their homes by now, she thought.
Hollis glanced at the Locke family bungalow one more time and noticed the tree in the center of the small lawn, leaves brushing in the evening breeze. She remembered when Matt and his father had planted that tree. He’d been pissed because he wanted to kayak that day. They were freshmen in high school. She’d seen him that morning and when he complained about having to plant a tree with his dad, Hollis had said, “work before play.” Matt had stormed off, but later that day she brought them both lunch and sat in the yard reading while they grunted and argued the tree into place. She’d done the same the year they had summer reading or the time Matt had to go to the dermatologist to have a mole removed on the back of his neck because he never wore sunscreen and burned his neck every summer. “It’s not skin cancer,” he said. “I’m not going all the way to the doctor—it’s a pain in the ass.” She’d gone with him, and it had not been skin cancer, but Matt’s mother was relieved, which was worth the trip as far as Hollis was concerned.
Things came easy for Matt. He rarely studied. He didn’t like hassle, which used to annoy Hollis, who ardently believed in hard work. Matt enjoyed mental conflict, discussion, and debates, but something in his nature made him choose to give in when the physical world, or maybe his emotions, became mixed up. Hollis smiled at the tree. It was huge, a perfect shade to his parents’ front windows, rooted and almost winking at her in appreciation for keeping Matt from his fun that afternoon.
The moon was a little over half, but giving off the glow of a full moon, and the wind spun the weather vane on top of the restaurant and tinkled the chimes on the outside of the building as Hollis made her way to Mr. Boots. Stopping at the pier, she looked out over the bay, pulled her blazer closed, and stepped up onto the wood. The water buckled and waved as she shook her hair loose from the elastic, wanting the wind in her hair, to feel her place, their place. Matt was most likely asleep and she didn’t want to bother him. She would turn on the light in the name of tradition and enjoy the evening chill by herself this time. After the day she had, she wanted to feel alive. Hollis was certain not a single person in that conference room remembered what it was like to be young and sneaking up a dock under the light of a half-moon. Hollis took her shoes off and smiled as her bare feet touched the damp wood.
When she arrived at the bait shack, she turned on the flashlight she’d taken from the side of the restaurant, the one Uncle Mitch kept under the circuit box for emergencies. The wide beam cut through the darkness of the shack and when she set the flashlight in the middle of the little table faceup, she took in a breath of sea air, let it out, and closed her eyes.
“You’ll be fine. You’re home,” she heard the wind say. Hollis thought maybe the wind had been telling her things all her life, but at some point, she became too noisy to listen. Pulling the blanket she’d found in the back of her car from her bag, she laid it on the pier. She had meant to check and see if their initials were still etched in the wall of the shack, but the meeting at Dobbins Capital was still spinning through her mind and she was so tired. Her last thought was one of surrender. She certainly didn’t want to be found out, but the desire to continue doing battle had passed. She no longer wanted to call someone “our win” in the way it had come to mean. She wanted peace and more than at any other time in her life, she wanted to be happy. Hollis tried to take in as many stars as her eyes could hold and then she fell asleep.
Matt had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room of his parents’ bungalow reading some crime novel he’d almost given up on. The story jumped between three different time periods and was virtually impossible to follow, but he’d decided to give it one more try since it was a distraction from the argument with his father. Did what happened at lunch even qualify as an argument anymore? The same thing kept playing on a loop these days each time he spoke to or saw his dad. Not in the big bursts of a full on fight, but more like smaller jabs and heaving sighs seeping with ambivalence.
His father was in pain, Matt reminded himself, and that did explain why things felt so heightened, but the core of his issue with his father was deep, rooted in years of seeing things differently. Closing the book, Matt sat up and made his way to the bed right as his phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket, hoping it was Hollis, deflated when it wasn’t, and then panicked to see the call was from Officer Hernandez, Greg, a little after midnight.
“What’s wrong?” Matt answered, sounding like his own mother.
Greg’s laughter spilled from the phone and Matt let out a deep breath.
“Aww, man, you can’t do that. It’s after midnight. I thought something was wrong with you or your kids.”
“And being a cop and all, I’d naturally call you first?”
Matt closed his eyes. “Fine. Then why are you calling me?”
“To tell you that I was right. I love it when I’m right. She is still your girl.”
“Seriously? Are you drinking on the job? Can’t we discuss this tomorrow?”
“No, sober as a judge, but I was getting off shift and noticed the light coming from the bait shack.”
Matt’s heart raced.
“When I drove by, I noticed your girl on the pier. The light’s on, so you should probably get your ass out there.” He laughed again.
“How do you know about the light?” Matt was surprised and wondering why Hollis was at the bait shack.
“Oh, please. You two have been playing flashlight forever. Who do you think was keeping an eye on you when you crossed over Highway 1 in the dark?”
“After you realized I wasn’t breaking into someone’s house?”
“Damn straight. Now, quit jabbering with me and go get your girl before she freezes out there.”
“For the hundredth time, she’s not my—” The call died and Matt went to the front window and pulled back the curtain. There it was, a faint line of light that almost appeared to cut through the night and light the moon.
He grabbed a sweatshirt and walked to the pier.
Hollis was huddled under a blanket in what looked like the same white shirt from that morning. The wind blew, swaying the dock a little as he finally made it to her. Her shoes were off and tossed to the side and she was asleep, head resting on what looked like a balled-up blazer. He carefully sat down next to her and for a moment watched her sleep.
“Sometimes people don’t know they need you. You have to show them.” Matt heard his mother’s voice. He felt a knot in his chest as he pushed the hair off her cheek. She was sleeping so soundly, as if she were in her own bed at home. Maybe she was, he thought.
They used to have an ice cream truck in his neighborhood growing up. It would tinkle down the street shortly after school let out and by one on Saturday. Matt would get money from his parents, and he and his friends would chase down t
he truck and push into some semblance of a line. His best friend, Tim, routinely bought an ice cream sandwich. He would sit on the stairs to their house and lick all around the edges until there was only ice cream in the center and the chocolate cookie threatened to fall onto the sidewalk. Then, and not a moment sooner, he ate the cookie part.
Matt bought the Strawberry Shortcake, and every time it was either soggy or smushed into the wrapper. He knew before he ordered that it would be smushed, a pain in the ass because he’d have to lick the wrapper and inevitably go back in the house to wash his hands before he and his friends went back out to play. Most of the kids in his neighborhood chose the Firecracker. It was easy to open, held together even in the heat of summer, and was refreshing. He told himself any time they ran after the green-and-yellow truck that he should get The Firecracker, it was the easiest choice, but time after time he paid for the Strawberry Shortcake and sat next to his best friend and made a mess, enjoying every bit of goodness.
Hollis was Strawberry Shortcake. He had no idea why he kept coming back. That wasn’t true. He knew. It was exactly as Greg had said. She was his girl, always would be, even if that meant she was a mess or she made him work harder than anyone else. She was still a goodness he would never find anywhere else.
Matt stretched out behind her. Resting on one arm, he wrapped the other around her waist and pulled her close. Hollis stirred for a second then settled into his body as if she had never left.
“Psst… Holls.”
She grunted.
“You’re going to freeze out here.”
Her eyes fluttered open like they were in some big fluffy bed on a Sunday morning instead of on a damp pier in the middle of June.
“You’re here,” she said, her voice heavy with sleep.
“You put the light on.”
“I thought you were asleep and things were awkward this morning, so I walked out here alone.” She rolled to face him and Matt finally understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t need him, she didn’t know how to need him.