When I turn back to her, I look over and see she is simply processing what I just asked her, but I am not worried. Maddie and I are meant to be. We are forever. We are always.
I will give her the time, knowing when I come back here, she will be my fiancée then, soon, my wife.
I roll to my side and look over at the clock. It is five minutes to seven, and my alarm will be sounding soon. I stare at the clock, watching the minutes pass, one by one. My arms are sore, and my jaw is also feeling the pain from when that guy clocked me in the face last night. However, he made the stupid decision to take the bet. I smiled when I looked at him from across the bar. I knew he couldn’t kick my ass. I love overconfident assholes. They always end up eating their words by the first time I slug them in the face.
I stretch my arms over my head just as the alarm goes off then lean over to click it off. My head is pounding, and my gut is nauseous from the consumption of nearly a full bottle of Bushmills, but I can’t lie here in bed. There are things that need to be done around the place, things I am responsible for and need to get a head start on, regardless of how bad I feel.
Making my way down the hall, I take a quick shower then head to the kitchen to grab some coffee.
As I sit and wait for the coffee, I can’t help thinking of my parents. Almost every morning since I was born, I would wake and find my mom in this kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew and to greet me for the day. She would tap her fingers on the counter, impatiently waiting for her caffeine fix, but she was never grouchy in the morning. My mom would sway around the room to the morning oldies channel. She always had a smile on her face and was genuinely a happy person all the time.
My parents loved this place. I moved to Crestbrook from Providence in the seventh grade. My parents had come into some money when my grandpa died, and they wanted to get out of the city and fall into a small town way of living. They wanted me to grow up going to school with an excellent education program and be able to have a great childhood. And I did. They were the best parents a kid could ask for, and until that night ten years ago, I would have said moving to Crestbrook was the best decision they had ever made because I loved it here. I loved the bed and breakfast my parents ran. I loved meeting new people, helping my father with the maintenance. I especially loved the friendship I formed with the old Maddie.
We were destined to be friends from the moment we met. She was a small, mouthy little girl who would snap at anyone who crossed her the wrong way. I was immediately attracted to her. She was horribly misunderstood, because no one really knew what was going on at home. If I wouldn’t have been where I was the night she finally talked to me, I probably would have never been her friend, either.
Seventh grade had just ended and I was taking advantage of the daylight hours by doing a little exploring on my bike. When I discovered the road that leads to the cliffs, I had this sense of excitement because I had no idea what was at the top. That was when I found Madison.
She was sitting on the ledge, practically hanging off it, with her feet tucked up to her chest. There was a bottle of vodka sitting by her side, and she was crying. I recognized her immediately from school. I mean, you couldn’t forget a girl like her. She was so pretty and spunky. She had me fascinated from day one.
I parked my bike and decided to finally talk to her. Slowly, I approached and made Maddie jump slightly. I greeted her with a small smile, and she greeted me with a slug to my thigh.
“What the hell, dude?” She took her bottle of vodka and placed it on the other side of her, making it clear she wasn’t going to share. “You can’t creep up on someone like that, especially not while they’re sitting so close to the edge, dumbass.”
“Sor-sorry,” I said quickly and sat down beside her.
She glared at me, clearly not wanting the company, but I decided to give it to her, anyway.
In school, I had noticed her trying to mask her stress by putting on a tough exterior. However, I knew differently. I saw through the mask and knew she needed someone to talk to. That night, I was going to make it me.
She pulled the bottle up to her lips then took a small sip. She let out a gagging sound then repeated it again and again. I only stared at her, wondering what the hell was wrong with her and why she felt the need to drink her problems away.
“Is there something I can help you with? I kinda came up here for a reason, and it wasn’t to be creeped on by some weirdo.”
I released a huge laugh and smiled at her. She didn’t scare me off.
“Well, I was out riding my bike, and I saw you here. You looked upset, so I thought I’d come and see if you were okay. Are you okay?”
She looked back out at the ocean, and the sounds around us melted away.
“Why do you care? I don’t need you here, so you can leave.” She stood up, and I noticed her legs were wobbly. I immediately grabbed onto her arm and helped her regain her balance. She looked so frightened for a moment, and then she was thankful.
We didn’t really speak for the rest of the day, but as the time passed that summer, I would meet Madison up there almost every night, and we slowly became really good friends. By the time our eighth grade year started, we were inseparable, but it was a friendship, nothing more.
She didn’t want a boyfriend, and at the time, I didn’t want a girlfriend. Of course, by the time we were seniors, that feeling was no longer what I felt. I was in love with her, and I knew, if I didn’t lay it all out there that night, she wouldn’t have a reason to stay. Turned out, she didn’t, anyway.
The smell of coffee snaps me out of my memory and back to my kitchen. The boy who fell in love with Madison died so many years ago, and the Nate I am today was born. I broke when she left, and there will be nothing to put me back together. Frankly, I couldn’t care less. I don’t need to be saved; I only need to survive.
When I walk into the house, I see Madison sitting at the table, eating breakfast. Her hair is balled up on top of her head, and she looks refreshed after a night’s sleep, unlike me. I feel like hell and probably look it. However, the very sight of her pisses me off. I don’t want her here.
I walk through the door, ignoring her completely, and head to the kitchen. Juanita plates me up some eggs and bacon, but the smell of food is not agreeing with my hangover at the current moment. I could puke at any second.
“Nah,” I say, swallowing down the queasy feeling rising up my throat. “I had a little too much to drink last night.”
“I know that. I’m not stupid. You look like shit and smell like the bottom of a whiskey bottle, but you should probably eat.” She shoves the plate at me, so I pull the strips of bacon off and gag them down.
“She needs to leave, Nita. I don’t want her here. Are you sure she can’t leave today or tomorrow? She appears to be fine.” I don’t want to run in to her every morning for the next couple of weeks. I don’t want to see her. I want her gone. The sooner, the better.
“You heard the doctor. She has to stay for at least a couple of weeks. She broke her ribs, Nate, and cracked her head good. She needs time to recover. Besides…” Juanita gets this wicked smile on her face, and I know exactly what she is thinking.
She remembers how close we were as kids and knows how much I loved Madison before she bailed out on me. Juanita would love nothing more than to play matchmaker between the two of us. She is a bored, little woman who needs a project since we don’t have customers. Lately, that problem has been far too frequent.
“Don’t even think about it, Nita. I can barely stand the sight of her, and the next two weeks can’t come soon enough. Besides, don’t you and the doctor have your own love life to worry about?” I snap back, which earns me a crack across the arm from the five-foot, spunky woman.
“Well, that is none of your business, mister. And I’m not saying just go out and marry the girl, but you need to consider that everything happens for a reason, Nate.” She holds up the crucifix dangling around her neck and points her index finger up toward the ceilin
g. “We are all a part of a plan, just remember that.”
I stuff the rest of the bacon in my mouth then turn, rolling my eyes behind Nita’s back, thinking she is nothing but a crazy old woman.
I don’t believe in the chances of fate or everything happens for a reason bullshit. In fact, I don’t believe in much of anything. Therefore, once I walk to Madison’s table and stop in front of her, I can only voice one thing.
“Two weeks, Madison.” The hangover gives me a voice that sounds gruff and harsher than normal. “Then you need to find somewhere else to go. That’s—”
“Got it!”
Classic, snotty Madison right there, I think as I shrug off her comment and abandon her.
I storm out the front door and make my way around to the back of the guest house, pulling my iPod out of my pocket and blasting Alice in Chains into my ears. I exhale a breath as “Rooster” sounds through my ear buds then start to work on repairing the broken door to the shed.
I want to keep myself busy with the mundane tasks, ones that require me to concentrate on what is in front of me and not about how my life has rapidly changed course out of nowhere. I don’t want to think of anything else right now except getting this door repaired.
My emotions are on overload, and at any moment, they will explode, killing me in their wake.
chapter four
THE WEEK CARRIES ON JUST ABOUT the same way every single day: I wake, eat breakfast, visit with Juanita, and avoid Nate. I want nothing more than to get the hell out of here, but my ribs are killing me, and I know sitting in a car, driving thousands of miles to California wouldn’t help them.
I am bored out of my mind because I am not used to sitting around and doing nothing. By Friday, I decide to give it another week. Hopefully, I will be recovered enough to get on with my life by then. Surprisingly, I am looking forward to getting a fresh start.
After I help Juanita fold the sheets and towels for the other rooms, I decide I need to go for a walk to clear my head. This part of Crestbrook is beautiful, a classic New England community that gives tourists a glimpse of the small town way of living.
When I was kid, I hated living here. There was nothing to do, and I hated being at home. It felt like I was living in the cleanest version of Hell imaginable. Then I met Nate on the cliffs, and he became my friend.
It’s funny how he never gave up on making me talk to him. I would always find him waiting at the cliffs with a big, goofy smile on this face and sometimes with a container of homemade cookies. He was bribing me—that I was sure of. However, I eventually became very comfortable confiding in him about my home life. He never judged me; he only listened and offered a hug every once and a while. He was such a jokester back then, too, always finding ways to make me laugh or coming up with the stupidest things for us to do.
Often times, he loved to speak with accents and pretend to be someone who lived far from New England. He would speak to the customers at the bed and breakfast, acting like he was a guest, too, and every time, he would make up a wild back story. I would just hang back and watch him as he used his classic English accent and, of course, his impersonation of someone with a deep, southern drawl.
When we were old enough to drive, Nate and I would go to different truck stop restaurants, away from Crestbrook, to put on little plays, so to speak. We would pretend to be a couple of runaway kids from Texas who were on a collision course with my angry daddy. My daddy, who was a hardcore Christian, was chasing Nate with his shot gun, threatening to shoot his pecker off because he had stolen my virtue. Another time, I was a pregnant teen who pretended to go into labor, even faking my water breaking by dumping water on the floor behind the waitress’s back. However, the best time was when his cousin was visiting from Maine, and he was really embarrassed by his Tourette’s syndrome. Nate took it to another level when he pretended he had Tourette’s, as well, getting everyone in the restaurant to stare at him. I don’t think I ever laughed so hard in my life, and the waitress ended up kicking us out because the words fuck, cock, and ball sack were spoken one too many times. It was freaking amazing, but that was so many years ago, and life has a way of taking all the fun away when you become an adult. That is certainly the case for Nate. He is mad all the time, and it all seems to be directed toward me.
I keep my feet moving down the road, walking toward town and looking at all the new developments. After walking about an hour, I notice the two new bed and breakfast establishments near the Wakefield’s that Juanita told me about last week. I can’t believe this is the reason they are not getting much business. Granted, Nate’s parents ran the place, and they are no longer living, but it still should be making money, regardless.
I stop at the end of the road in front of this beautiful, elaborate place and observe. The parking area is filled with cars from all over the country. There are people sitting around an outdoor lounge area, sipping on drinks and visiting with each other as someone comes and waits on them outside. Off to the side, there is a place to toss horseshoes, a beautiful gazebo overlooking the ocean, and an outdoor patio area with a fire pit, plush furniture, and a bar.
I need to check this place out. Yes, it is very beautiful, but it lacks the old world charm of the Wakefield’s place. I walk up the long drive, seeing the grass is plush and green, and the flowers shimmer in the sunlight in colors of red, yellow, and purple. The building itself looks to be brand new and lacking the classic charm the Wakefield place has, which makes me more curious. This place must have the amenities people are looking for. Nate could at least upgrade a little to have internet, for Lord’s sake or perhaps a room that doesn’t look like the nearest botanical center threw up all over the walls.
I walk up on the front porch and through the door, crossing over the threshold, where I immediately notice the grand ceilings that go on forever. The impressive foyer exudes a comfortable yet luxurious stay. My mouth is probably wide open as I stare at the chandeliers hanging in the dining area and the crisp white linens on the tables when a woman greets me at the door.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any rooms available. We are booked solid through the summer.” That is the first thing out of her mouth. Not, how may I help you or thank you for stopping in or a damn hello … nothing.
“Okay, well, I was just wondering if you have a brochure I can look at,” I say back just as rudely as she did to me.
“Here,” the stuck up woman says as she hands me an elaborate tri-fold piece of paper. I open the pamphlet and look at the amazing pictures. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, the Wakefield Bed and Breakfast always has openings.” She snickers under her breath.
Although I immediately want to punch her in the face, I try a different tactic. I lean in and look over at her like I am just one of the girls. You know, snobby and rich. “So, what’s the gossip there?”
“It’s funny you ask. The place is falling apart because it’s outdated and old. No one wants to stay there, and it doesn’t even have internet.” I nod my head in agreement, because it is a little outdated. “But that’s not the funny part. The guys who runs it is a total loser. He is always in town, picking up girls. He’s a drunk and a complete asshole. The worst part is, he’s one of the cutest guys I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, he can’t be that bad, then, right?” I say, pretending to laugh under my breath while inwardly rolling my eyes.
“Oh, he’s bad. He’s a bad boy if I’ve ever seen one.” She leans in like we are old friends and continues the gossip. “He’s been arrested I don’t know how many times because he’s always drinking and fighting. But he has some sort of death wish, too. Homer, the groundskeeper, he was up on the cliffs one night and said he was practically trying to jump off, like he was trying to fly or something. He said that bad boy had a horrendous look in his eyes, a look only a man on the brink could have.”
“Well, how does he know that?” I dispute.
“Because Homer was a major drunk, and according to him, that’s the look you get when
you are about to hit rock bottom.” She moves out of the way as another customer comes through the door. “I’d steer clear of that place. You never know what kind of service you’d get there.”
I process everything I am hearing and take a mental note of this woman. When I call in to her corporate office, I am sure management will be interested in knowing their staff is driving customers away from another establishment with a basis of gossip and hearsay conversations. If Nate wanted to, he could sue for slander and easily win.
However, I ask, “Do you have a lot for kids to do around here?”
“Oh, no. This place is a classy establishment, and most of our customers want to get away from children, if you know what I mean.”
I smile my fake, stupid grin then nod my head as if I understand what she means.
After my little covert operation into the competition, I start brewing with an ingenious idea, something that will help me pass the time while I mend and help Nate in the process. If I am lucky, it could also be some kind of a peace offering on my part.
With a bounce in my step, I make my way down the driveway and back to the Wakefield’s place. It takes me no time to get there as the ideas swarm around in my brain. My side is killing me, but the motivation to get this project started is enough to push the ache out of my thoughts. When I make it back to the house, I waddle upstairs, grab my car keys, and take a drive to town.
A few days ago, I thought I would pass the time by surfing the internet, but to my dismay, there is no Wi-Fi access, anywhere. I mentally add it to my list and head toward the cell phone store. Forty minutes later, I have added a portable internet thingy to my phone plan, which will come in handy when I get things going with my new project.
By the time I get back to the house, I can barely get out of my car. My ribs are on fire they hurt so badly, and I know I need to slow down a bit and take a rest.
Hold on You Page 5