The Edge of You

by Theresa Dalayne

  She ran her hand down the length of her arm. “He’s looking for work—”

  “I thought he was at work now?”

  She didn’t respond.

  Jake tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Or is he really out drinking, and didn’t give a shit if you picked me up, even after that seizure you had last month?”

  Her silence spoke volumes.

  ***

  Jake peered up at the sky, thankful for Seattle’s trademark dreary atmosphere and the shade it provided. It meant he could push the rusted, piece-of-shit mower for another twenty minutes without getting hit in the face with the raw stench of the neighbor’s sewage leak.

  Although the yard wasn’t huge, the grass had grown out of control again and was taking twice as long to mow, especially since the damn mower kept choking and stalling out.

  He wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead and glanced back at his mom’s trailer. It sat on a plot just large enough to host a small flower garden, some lawn gnomes, and the new retractable awning. The shine of the awning’s frame clashed with the dingy exterior of the trailer’s aluminum walls, painted white too many times to count.

  Even after his mom’s efforts to make it look like a real house, the place was obviously a dump. The wind chimes sang as a breeze cooled Jake’s skin.

  He turned back to cursing the mower. If he didn’t get it to work, they’d probably end up with field rats. He paused, and turned to see a gaping hole still punched in the flimsy, lattice porch trim.

  Wayne was supposed to fix that damn hole a month ago. His mom called and said he kicked it in during one of his drunken fits. Now they probably had a whole family of raccoons nested under their porch.

  The screech of the screen door made Jake turn to see his mother in the doorway, still in her pajamas. “Hey, honey. You’re getting an early start today.”

  The sun broke through the clouds and beat down on his bare shoulders. “Yeah. I couldn’t stand looking at the lawn anymore.”

  She raked her fingers through her tussled hair. “Thanks, sweetie. I know it’s a little...unkempt. But Wayne’s been real busy with work and all. When he comes home, he just wants a nice meal and a cold beer.”

  Her gentle smile and warm eyes tore at him. She deserved so much better than this shit.

  He turned back toward the mower and grabbed the pull-cord. With one solid jerk, the mower sputtered and died. He stood back up and wiped his forehead, the humidity stripping away his patience.

  He rolled the mower to the side of the porch. “What is it that Wayne does again? The last time he brought in any money was, what, two months ago?” He knelt down and checked the machine’s oil level. Plenty there, but no gas in the tank. Of course.

  “I helped him fill out five applications just last week.” She smiled as if that explained it all.

  “Well if he doesn’t show up for his interviews, the applications won’t do much good.” There was no use wasting his time with the mower until they got some more fuel.

  His mother gripped the weathered railing as he stood and walked past the porch. “I know it’s not your job to support me. I’m your mom. I should be sending you money.”

  He climbed the two stairs in a single step. Her frail shoulders could barely support the weight of his hands draped over them. “Did you take your medicine this morning?” She nodded. “How many more days do you have left before your next refill?”

  “About a week.”

  He could do so much more for his mom if he didn’t have to worry about Wayne’s lazy ass coming home every night, eating all the food in the fridge and spending every last cent at the damn bar. And God only knows what else. Jake had seen Wayne’s type before. He was the kind of guy who found a woman with some money and latched onto her. That much wasn’t hard to figure out, though his mom couldn’t see it.

  The puffiness around her eyes told him she hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in days. She tilted up her face, shame muddling her gaze. “It’s not as easy as you think. You don’t know what it’s like, being sick and a single mom. Wayne may be a whole-lotta-things, but he’s the best kinda man I can find.”

  Jake scoffed and dropped his hands away from her shoulders. “Yeah. He’s doing a good job. Where the hell was Wayne when you had your seizure?”

  More tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I hate that that happened.”

  He stepped back, heat flaring in his chest. “Don’t be sorry for being sick, Mom. But you could afford some extra health insurance if you ditched the dead weight.” He rubbed the back of his throbbing neck. “Seriously. Where’s your common sense?” Jake relaxed his tense muscles, realizing his tone had taken a sharper edge than he intended. It was just so frustrating. She didn’t see that Wayne didn’t give a damn about her, or anyone but himself.

  The unmistakable roar of Wayne’s shitty Harley tore through the air. Jake turned, watching as he sped down the gravel road of the trailer park. Wayne pulled to a stop in the patch of freshly mowed grass.

  “You better go finish the lawn now,” his mother said quietly, a sense of urgency in her tone.

  Jake glared across the yard and slipped his T-shirt back on to cover at least some of his tattoos. Wayne always bitched about his tats. Apparently the guy’s taste in ink was limited to naked women straddling eight balls, and skulls with flames. At least Jake’s tattoos meant something.

  Wayne dismounted his bike. Sweat drizzled down his bald head, over the roll of his neck and into the curly hair on his chest that pushed from under his dingy T-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He glanced at the dead mower. “What’s this shit all about?” He spit a thick gob of brown mucus into the grass.

  “Jake was just mowing the lawn. Isn’t that nice?” The underlying fear in her voice wasn’t hard to recognize.

  Jake squared his stance.

  “It’d be nice if it didn’t look like you gave the mower to a fucking retard.”

  “It ran out of gas,” Jake stated.

  “Well go get some more, then.” He dismounted his bike and stomped across the yard, his steel-toe boots battering the wood as he climbed the porch steps. He passed Jake, staring him in the eyes as he slowed. He pushed through the front door, letting it slam behind him.

  Jake turned to his mom. “I’m not buying gas for the mower,” he said quietly. “I can barely afford gas to get to the grocery store and back. If he wants the lawn mowed, tell him to pitch in and get the gas himself.”

  She rested her hand on his shoulder. “You know I can’t—”

  “Sheryl! Isn’t there anything to eat in this goddam pigsty?”

  His mom winced.

  Jake worked his jaw. “How much longer are you going to put up with this shit?”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by the screen door slamming open against the siding. Wayne stood in the threshold. “Don’t you hear me yelling from inside, or are you deaf?”

  She shook her head and forced a smile. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you. I’m coming inside in just a sec. I was just spending a few minutes with Jake before he left to go see some friends.”

  That must have been his cue to leave.

  “Fine, but don’t take too long. I’m hungry and tired from working all night.”

  “Working?” Jake couldn’t hold himself back. The fat fuck had some nerve saying he was at work when he smelled like alcohol and cheap perfume. “You mean handing out tips at the strip club and shooting pool with your biker buddies?” He stepped forward. “Because I’m pretty damn sure if you were working, you’d have some money to help out around here.” His index finger jabbed in the air with his words.

  Wayne’s grip on the door tightened, the skull ring on his finger taunting Jake with a wicked smile. “You fucking stupid, boy? You come around here thinkin’ you’re the man of the house just because you make some big money on a shitty fishing boat?”

  Jake noticed his mom’s hands tremble, now tucked under her chin. He flattened the anger in his tone
before he scared her even further. “I did make decent money before I had to move back here to make sure my mom doesn’t die while you’re out partying.”

  Wayne’s face flushed red as he glared at Jake’s mom. “You better get your boy under control before I beat some sense into him.”

  She nodded. “Just...give me a sec, okay?”

  Wayne stormed back into the house. She turned toward Jake, her eyes searching his. “Honey,” she whispered. “You can’t move back here. Are you crazy?”

  “Well what the hell do you expect me to do?” His tone matched hers, but with rage simmering just under the surface. “I’ll get a job somewhere and at least make sure you get your medicine. I can handle the money. Maybe even save a little so we can get out of this rundown shit-hole.”

  Her fingers curled around his sweat-drenched shirt. “Are you sure? You wanna leave your school?”

  Shit. He forgot about school. He worked so hard to get as far as he did, attending a few day classes and some online courses so he would graduate faster. It was never his plan to settle down in Kodiak, but after a few summers of working on the fishing boat, the money was so good he could finally give his mom a life, and himself a future. But no matter how good the money was, he couldn’t leave her.

  Not now.

  Chapter Five

  Maya

  Maya debated between a tank top and a T-shirt, neither of them suitable for keeping her warm in the chilly coastal winds. She was still trying to adjust to the weather change, but as of right now, Kodiak’s cool, sixty-five degrees was more like California in the winter. God only knew what the island would be like in January.

  Worse, once the really cold temperatures hit, it would cost her a fortune to buy some appropriate clothes. Last week she was able to snag the car for an afternoon and check out one of the local clothing stores off Upper Mill Bay Road—one of the only main streets in town. She grabbed a Roxy sweater off the rack, but put it back when she saw it was priced at one hundred and eighty dollars.

  One hundred and eighty dollars.

  She’d been buying Roxy wear for years and never paid more than fifty bucks for a hoodie. These island people had to be insane.

  Online shopping it is.

  Ginger jumped onto her bed, fluffy golden fur with white paws and a white patch around her nose. Her tail curled around the T-shirt, and she let out a quiet meow before plopping on the bed and rolling onto her back.

  Maya smiled. “Good choice, Ginger.” She put on the shirt with a decal of a girly skull, gripping a rose between its teeth, with a lopsided polka dot bow propped on its head. She slipped on a few colored bangles, some dark-blue skinny jeans, and her favorite pair of flats with turquoise sequins on the top.

  “Wish me luck.” She scratched Ginger between the ears. Her soft purrs eased Maya’s nerves. “It must be so easy to be a cat.” Ginger swooshed her tail and blinked slowly. “Enjoy your nap. I’m going to see if I’ll ever have a career, or if I’ll be stuck selling my paintings on the street for the rest of my life.”

  She walked downstairs into the kitchen and grabbed the keys off the counter. The “university” was only a few minutes away, giving her time to enjoy a cup of coffee before she left. When she leaned against the counter, her leg brushed against the recycling bag. Something heavy clanked against the bottom cabinet. Maya noticed a dark-green bottle showing through the stretched plastic bag.

  A knot wrenched her belly, and she gripped her mug between her hands.

  She bumped it again and winced when it made the same hollow, heavy sound.

  She was thirteen when her mother got clean and sober—right before she got pregnant with Gracie. The years she spent watching her mother’s mood fluctuate, her temper flare, and her love be completely conditional on whether or not she had wine was enough to make the empty bottle a real concern.

  But her mother hated talking about her problem, and everyone was already stressed. Hopefully things wouldn’t get any worse and she wouldn’t be forced to bring it up to her dad the next time she saw him—whenever that would be.

  Maya left her house and drove to the school, which took an entire eight minutes. As she walked through the empty lot, she wondered if they’d be open so close to the start of fall semester. Thankfully the door wasn’t locked. When she approached the front desk, she was greeted by exactly no one. Maya plucked a pamphlet from the display and read out loud.

  “Accounting, computer systems technology, nursing, bookkeeping, welding, early childhood education—” She lifted her head at the sound of shoes squeaking over the tile floors.

  A brunette, plain but pretty, smiled and leaned on the counter. “Sorry about that. Can I help you?”

  “Yeah.” Maya shoved the pamphlet in her sling purse. “Where do I need to go to schedule a campus tour? We just moved here and I’m thinking of signing up for fall semester.”

  “Oh.” The woman grabbed some papers and set them on the counter. “Here are the forms you’ll need, and I can give you the tour right now.”

  Finally, something was going right.

  The woman leaned over the counter and pointed to a pair of double doors. “Over there is the cafeteria and down both halls are classrooms. No gym, one chemistry lab, the library and a the welding shop, all located through those doors.” She pointed to the right, then slapped her hands on the counter and shrugged. “That’s it. Anything else you need?”

  Maya slowly turned and started toward the exit. “A new life,” she mumbled. How the hell was she going to earn any kind of respectable degree in a college that was smaller than her old high school? Even if most people couldn’t make a life for themselves painting, she could. She had dreams of owning her own studio one day. She had plans for her life before she moved, and now her future was a void of white space. A sick heat settled in her gut as she pushed through the doors.

  It was a mistake to have left California. Maybe her school would still take her back. She could always hop a plane and move in with Beth. Settle back into her old life. It might not be too late to make it all right again.

  Maya stalked across the parking lot and climbed in her car. She gripped the steering wheel, her eyes closed, focused on slowing her heartbeat. “Shit.” She rested her head back on the seat, then thumped against the headrest a few times, sending strands of hair to fall around her face. “Shit, shit, shit.” Her phone buzzed, making her jump. She dug it out of her bag and read the text from Beth.

  Hey, hon. How’s Iceland?

  Maya scoffed as she read the message, then dotted her fingers over the keypad.

  Expensive, cold, and small.

  I hope everything isn’t small, if u know what I mean.;)

  Maya grinned. Leave it up to Beth to assume she’d already hooked up with some Alaskan guy. She texted back.

  I’ll let u know when I find out. Miss u like crazy.

  Me 2. Call me later.

  Maya slipped her phone in her purse and started the engine. Beth was always so optimistic. It was an admirable quality, but one Maya just didn’t have. The glass wasn’t always half-full. Not for her anyway. So instead of hoping for the best, she chose to be a realist.

  Prepare for the worst, and if it happened, at least she was mildly prepared. If not, she was pleasantly surprised. Either way she usually came out ahead. Because the fact was, you got what life dealt you, and you just had to make the best of it—good, bad, or indifferent.

  She pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the main road, passing the only theater with just one screen and two movies with a rotating schedule. Maya still had trouble believing the town was so small. It seemed to be forgotten by the rest of the world, the stores thriving only because everyone was trapped on the island with no other options.

  She turned onto her street and slowly applied more pressure to the gas pedal, starting the climb up her ridiculously steep driveway—necessary since their house was built beside the mountain’s dropped off, giving them the best view of the Pacific Ocean. It was one of
the few perks of living there.

  Maya parked and climbed out of the car with no idea what she’d say to her mom when she went inside. She played with the keys between her fingers, her worries drowned out by the rhythmic hum of the sea in the distance, waves crashing against the black cliffs. Every time she admired the endless view of the ocean, her heart ached, and she could almost see Gracie’s bright eyes and freckled cheeks.

  Maybe moving out of Long Beach took them away from the place where Gracie drowned, but it was clear after the first week of living in Kodiak that the pain would follow them wherever they’d go. California or Alaska, it didn’t matter. Gracie’s laughter would still echo in her dreams, and Maya would always miss her.

  Her breath hitched. They’d never get her back, and Maya had to live with that for the rest of her life.

  Chapter Six

  Jake

  Jake sat in his El Camino, his eyes burning after a twelve-hour shift. The only light came from a flickering street lamp set outside the entrance of the tiny Mexican restaurant, where he worked bussing tables. Even if he pulled another month of double shifts, he’d never be able to make as much here as he did on the fishing boat.

  He reached into the pocket of his stained apron and pulled out some bills, counting them before groping for the loose change.

  “Fifteen, sixteen...” He fumbled through the coins in the palm of his hand, then closed his fingers around them and sat back in his seat. “Nineteen dollars and forty-six cents.” His hands dropped in his lap. He barely made enough to cover his gas for the week.

  Jake shoved the money in his pocket and gripped the steering wheel, resting his forehead between his hands before closing his eyes, tempted to drift off to sleep. If it weren’t for the online classes he was still taking, he’d be able to dedicate more time to work. But he couldn’t drop out. His mom did exactly that when she got pregnant with him at seventeen, and of course his deadbeat dad didn’t stick around. Sure, the guy was probably just some horny little fucker at the time, scared shitless when his girlfriend told him she was pregnant. Jake couldn’t imagine running out on a woman like that, and worse, your kid.