The Seacrest

by Aaron Lazar

Had he been alone?

  On an impulse, I opened the glove box and rifled through the contents.

  Registration.

  I’d have to get that changed over to my name, using the paperwork Sawyer had given me.

  Insurance card and sales receipts from the dealer, dated two years earlier.

  Compared to my Jeep, this thing is just a baby.

  My hand closed around another item—definitely not another paper receipt. I withdrew a coral necklace from the glove box.

  My hand shook and my head began to swim. I held the necklace I’d bought Cora two Christmases ago, noticing it had a broken clasp. It had cost me all of my meager savings, and she’d said she lost it last summer when I asked her to wear it to dinner on our anniversary.

  She’d lost it last summer.

  That meant she’d known my brother for at least one full year. Maybe more.

  And she hadn’t said a word about him.

  Had he accidentally torn if from her neck while they made out in his Jeep?

  I lay my head on the steering wheel, trying to process the thoughts. I needed to do more digging, and remembered I hadn’t checked the phone bill for details of her calls. It occurred to me that I might do the same on Jax’s bill, and that I’d seen a collection of unopened bills on the kitchen counter.

  I headed inside to check it out.

  Chapter 28

  August 2nd, 1997

  1:00 A.M.

  For the first time that summer, I came home as late as Jax.

  Sassy and I had made love in the water twice—which I hadn’t been sure we could manage—but I’d held her with her legs wrapped tight around my waist, bouncing in the swelling waves in a new rhythm that sent us both to the moon and back, and in spite of all the sand that stuck to me afterwards in weird places, it was phenomenal. When it was over, we’d floated on our backs, holding hands and watching the white pinpricks of stars blazing in the dark velvet sky.

  I propped my bike against the barn and turned suddenly when Jax’s headlights blinded me.

  He skidded to a stop on the gravel drive and lurched out of his car, smelling of beer. “Hey, bro!” He thundered toward me, weaving along the grassy path. “You’re home late.”

  I tried to beat him to the house so I could slip upstairs before him to avoid being caught by our parents, thanks to his loud tromping and obvious state of inebriation, but he caught up with me and slid an arm over my shoulder, breathing fumes into my face.

  “Watcha doin’ out so late, little buddy?”

  “Shh! You’ll wake Mom and Dad.”

  “Aww, don’t worry so much. They’ll understand. A man has to have his fun.”

  We made our way up the stairs, with a few fumbling slams against the wall, and I tried to get to the bathroom before him, but he pushed me away and shut the door in my face. I heard him being sick in there, and crawled into bed, trying to fake sleep.

  My mother’s voice came from the hallway. “Jax? Is that you, honey? Are you okay?”

  His thick words mumbled from behind the door. “I’m ’kay, Ma. No worries.”

  “All right, dear. Try to get some sleep. It’s very late.”

  “I know, Ma. Go back to bed. Everything’s good.”

  I lay wide-awake on my side, turned away from the door. I’d slid out of my tee shirt and jeans, but my feet were still sandy and I smelled of the sea. I wanted a quick shower, but worried he’d never get out of the bathroom.

  Finally, with a whiff of something I didn’t want to know about, he re-entered the bedroom and tottered over to sit on the edge of my bed. “Have a good night, bud?”

  I ignored him, until he poked me hard in the back and I was forced to roll over and sit up. “Yeah. It was fine.”

  “Who you porkin’ now, anyway?”

  I stared at him. “Nobody.”

  “I can’t keep mine straight. I think tonight was Sheila. She wanted me so bad. She’s a great lay.”

  I wondered if Sheila—who I’d never even heard of—really wanted him, or if he always just assumed that with every girl he dated.

  “Who’s she?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation away from my own evening of passion.

  “Just a girl I met at the carnival. Her old man runs the Ferris wheel.”

  “Yeah? Is she nice?”

  “Nice and horny,” he brayed, then lifted a finger to his lips. “Shh. Mom’s awake.”

  “Do you love her?” I asked, realizing as soon as I said it, it was a mistake.

  “Love? Come off it, twerp. Love’s for sissies. I just like sex, plain and simple.”

  My stomach turned. Although making love with Sassy—Libby, I corrected myself—was the best thing I’d ever experienced, I could never just think of her as a sex object. And I’d never be able to do it with just any old girl who happened along.

  Maybe I was the weird one. I hadn’t heard too many guys my age talk about girls in a respectful way. I guessed I was a freak of some kind. Some kind of old soul, or something like that. I’d heard my grandfather call me that a few years back, and hadn’t understood. He’d called me a “romantic, old soul,” to be exact. I guess he’d hit the nail on the head. I believed in love because I was in love. Madly in love. Desperately in love. It hurt and it thrilled and it pained me so bad I could barely stand the thought of not being with my Libby forever.

  What would I do in the fall when she went away?

  Jax poked me again. “So, who were you with tonight?”

  “Nobody,” I repeated.

  “You’ve got a new hickey. I know you were with a girl.”

  “So?”

  “It was that girl from the trolley, wasn’t it? Sissy?”

  “Sassy.”

  “Yeah. Sassy. Pretty nice piece of ass, if you ask me. Sweet tits, too.”

  I pushed him off the bed. “Take that back!”

  “Whoa, buddy!” He got up unsteadily. “What’s the big deal? They’re all good for one thing, and that’s for fu—”

  I launched myself at him. “Shut up,” I yelled. “You just shut the hell up!” I pulled back and threw a punch at his face, not really aiming, but reaching the soft pouch of his eye. It connected hard, and he howled.

  My father flung open the door and glared at us. Jax held a hand over his eye, giggling drunk. “Geez, he packs a wallop, Dad.”

  “Jax. Finn. What’s going on? It’s one o’clock in the morning, for goodness sake.”

  I got back in bed and leaned against my headboard. “Nothing, Dad.”

  He wrinkled his nose and coughed. “It smells like a distillery in here.”

  Jax laughed. “Ha, good one, Dad.”

  My father’s patience wore thin. “Jax McGraw, I am sorely disappointed in you. I’ve warned you about this kind of behavior. There will be consequences, serious consequences. I’ll discuss it with your mother, but you may be grounded for the next week.”

  “Grounded?” Jax laughed again, still holding his eye. “Are you serious, Dad? I’m eighteen.”

  My father glared at him. “I’m dead serious. Until you are twenty-one, you are under my control. And I have the power to take back that car, young man. Don’t ever forget it.”

  Jax turned sour. “It’s all his fault,” he said, pointing to me. “He jumped me.”

  I didn’t say a word, and my father glanced at me with an expression of understanding. He knew how hard it was to have a brother like Jax.

  He walked into the room and helped Jax up to his bed. “You probably deserved it,” he said, surprising me with his candor. “Now sleep it off. There’s no reprieve for you. You’re still getting up at six. And you’d better be ready to work your tail off, young man.”

  Jax shot me a nasty look, then rolled onto his bed and snorted. “Sure thing, Dad.”

  I gave my father a half-smile, and he stepped closer to ruffle my hair. “Good night, boys. I’ll expect better of you in the future.”

  “Night, Dad.” I lay back in bed and rubbed my sandy feet against
the sheets. “See you in the morning.”

  Chapter 29

  July 20th, 2013

  9:30 A.M.

  Inside the big farm kitchen at Blueberry Hill, I settled at the table with a pile of bills. It was a strange feeling, knowing I could pay them all with Jax’s money, unlike the pile on my own table at the cottage that had been juggled to the point of lunacy. I wondered if I’d ever get used to thinking of it as my money. How could I? I hadn’t earned it. I hadn’t sweated and toiled for it. And I wasn’t even sure Jax had done all that much aside from moving money around in various investment accounts for it. It was all so strange.

  Ace circled and lay on the braided rug at my feet, and I shuffled through the envelopes, ripping them open my usual way and ignoring the fancy pearl-handled letter opener gleaming on the counter. The car insurance bill was bigger than any mortgage I’d ever heard about. The cable bill, over three hundred dollars, was peppered with X-rated rentals. Finally—there it was—the AT&T phone bill.

  I tore it open and spread the pages on the table, fanning them out to examine the detailed call sheets.

  The month of July stared back at me. Text messages, calls, ring tone downloads. I ran one finger down the line of phone numbers, and there, in the full light of morning, in the very kitchen in which I’d grown up and had breakfasted with my beloved parents, in the room where I’d introduced Cora to them many years ago, I had my proof.

  Every day. Many times per day. Texts and phone calls to Cora’s cell.

  There were over four hundred listings for the month of July alone.

  My heart rolled in my chest, hurting, swollen with grief. Reeling from this final blow proving beyond a doubt that Cora had lied to me, I accepted the awful truth.

  Memories flashed back at me, Cora’s phone dinging, her cucumber cool expression of nonchalance, her claims all the beeps and bleeps were annoying marketing texts, just like those unwanted phone calls we got on the landline.

  And what about her late night study sessions with classmates at the library? The classes she supposedly attended?

  Had it all been a hoax?

  I lay my head on my arms on the kitchen table.

  I’d believed her. All along, she’d fooled me really well.

  God damn it, Cora.

  Why?

  I’d given her everything, hadn’t I? After Libby dumped me, I’d been a piteous wreck. I’d slowly come to appreciate Cora’s ministrations, and over time, I’d come to love her.

  Something niggled at me. Something too difficult to face. I realized it in a flash, as hard as I tried to avoid the unwelcome thoughts.

  Had I really loved Cora? Or had I been going through the motions?

  Was she a convenient, comfortable gal with whom I’d set up house?

  After Libby, it seemed the world dulled. If I faced facts, the bitter truth was I’d never felt about Cora the way I did about Libby. That uncontrolled, wild, almost desperate passion that had been Libby’s alone had never resurfaced. It had lain bruised and broken, somewhere deep beneath my consciousness. Still wanting my Sassy, my Libby. Still aching for her touch.

  Maybe Cora had sensed this. Maybe she knew I didn’t love her with all my heart, with all my soul.

  Guilt spiraled through me.

  Had Cora known?

  I certainly went through the motions, though. I devoted myself to her in action and word. I’d done thoughtful things for her, brought her wildflowers on a whim, tended to her when she was sick, worked hard to pay off our collective debt.

  I sat up, the truth dawning. I’d been going through the motions of love, of marriage, of affection. Just going through the damn motions.

  And Cora had sensed it, wanted more. She wanted the kind of passion I’d had for Libby.

  Had Jax given her that? Had he romanced her, danced under the stars with her? Had he made love to her in the ocean and at the cove? Had he trembled with the thought of touching her in all her secret places? Had his eyes burned passion when he glimpsed her in the supermarket, quickly turning away so I wouldn’t notice?

  I wanted to know more.

  When had it all started?

  I figured maybe I could ask for our phone records for the past few years, see how far back it went.

  I reached down to pat Ace, who seemed to sense my unease and pushed his cold nose into my hand.

  How could I have been so damned blind? How had Cora hidden the whole thing from me so successfully?

  Had she really taken college courses? Or was she lying in Jax’s bed the whole time?

  Jax had done it again. He’d taken the last living person from me, the only one I had left. And as difficult as it was to face the fact that maybe Cora didn’t love me anymore, that maybe I hadn’t loved her enough, I had still cared for her deeply.

  Now she was dead.

  And here I sat in Jax’s tidy, upscale kitchen, on his chair, and leaning on his table.

  Well, technically, now they were mine.

  A hole the size of Texas blackened my heart.

  Mom. Dad. Eva. Gramps. Cora.

  Were they having more fun than me up in Heaven? A whole family, floating in bliss through worlds of color and unimaginably beautiful music? Was my father tending blueberries with no weeds that produced fruit the size of melons? Was my mother baking cookies effortlessly to feed the crowds of blessed souls? Was Eva tripping through fields of flowers, singing in her sweet little voice? And Gramps, oh, I pictured him reeling in the big marlin under perfect blue skies.

  My throat tightened. I glanced at the knives on the shelf, then shook off the feelings of desperation and loneliness.

  No. I wouldn’t give in. Jax had tried to destroy me, but I couldn’t let him. I had to live on, care for my buddy Ace, and take care of the farm.

  And I still had one thing that bugged me, that needled at me, that called for an answer.

  I needed to find out why Libby hated me one minute, and kissed me the next.

  I stood abruptly. “Come on, boy. Let’s go.” Ace bounded beside me, happy to be leaving the scene of such sorrow. We jumped in my old Jeep and headed back to The Seacrest.

  Chapter 30

  August 3rd, 1997

  6:30 A.M.

  Jax glowered at me from across the breakfast table, his black eye swollen to a slit and his mood as mean as he looked. “You gonna eat all the bacon, pig?” He grabbed the plate from me and took three more pieces before I could finish it off. “Geez, what’d you do last night? Screw the whole cheerleading squad?”

  I slunk down in my seat, avoiding a sidelong glance from my father. “No.”

  Although it promised to be hot today, I wore a short-sleeved shirt whose collar hid the hickey Jax had pointed out last night. I hardly remembered Libby doing that in the heat of the moment.

  Jax glared again. “Well, he sure has a hollow leg this morning, doesn’t he, Mom?”

  My mother flashed a tentative smile and slid more eggs onto my plate. “He’s a growing boy. Nothing wrong with a good appetite.”

  My father frowned. “Feed ‘em well, dear. They’ll be working their behinds off this morning. We’re coming into peak season and there are already cars parked down by the gate, waiting to pick.”

  Jax moaned. “Why can’t we get just one day off, Dad?”

  My father slammed his orange juice glass on the table; juice spilled over the side. “And who would do the work while you frolicked on the beach with your latest conquest, Jax?”

  My brother flushed—surprising me. How did my father know about Jax’s late night escapades? Had he heard us talking last night? Or maybe he just assumed that’s what his eldest son did every night when he disappeared for hours at a time. Like I did, now.

  My mother tried to smooth things over, as always. “Now, men. There’s no time for silly talk like that. We’ve got work to do. Finish up, I’ll get these dishes done, and I’ll meet you down at the weighing station in a half hour.” She stood with her plate, and with a start, I noticed a slight bu
mp that showed beneath her apron.

  The baby. It was really happening.

  I smiled and wondered if I’d have a little sister or brother.

  “Finn has a girlfriend, too,” Jax said. “He saw her last night.”

  I shot daggers at him over the table. “Shut up.”

  My mother turned from the sink. “Who is she, honey?”

  I clamped down on my desire to tell her, now that I finally knew who she was. “Just a girl, Mom.”

  My father’s stern expression deepened. “I hope you’re being careful. We don’t want you to get in the same situation as your brother.”

  My mother shushed him, surprising me. “Dear, remember we discussed this?”

  I looked from my father to mother to Jax, and back again. “What situation?”

  Jax stood up abruptly. “For God’s sake. Is nothing private around here?”

  Jaw dropped, I stared. “What? What happened?”

  Jax stormed to the door and turned. “It’s none of your damned business, little bro. You need to take care of your own crap.”

  He disappeared upstairs and I heard the shower start up. Luckily I’d already gotten my own shower and didn’t have to worry about him hogging it again.

  “Dad? Mom? What’s going on?”

  My mother came to my side, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “Honey, please don’t worry about it. It’s not your concern. Let’s just look forward to a good day together, all right?”

  My father’s warning glance told me not to push it.

  “Okay. I guess.”

  “That’s a good boy,” she said, heading back to the sink. “Now go fill up the tank on the trolley. You’ll be busy all day today.” She winked and smiled at me, and I tried to forget about whatever it was they’d been hiding, but I couldn’t.

  What had Jax done this time?

  I shrugged and headed outside. I’d find out eventually. I always did.

  Chapter 31

  July 20th, 2013

  Noon

  On the drive back to The Seacrest, I passed cottages with cedar shake siding faded to gray, neat hedges of electric blue hydrangeas, and tumbling stonewalls covered in pink roses. Orange daylilies filled the roadsides and flanked the roses, and the sun winked off white shell drives, hot and bright, nearly blinding me.