Annaka

by Andre Fenton

  “Do you think you could follow up with her?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. It took her almost seventeen years to finally bring him up. I think it’ll be a little while until she wants to talk about him again.”

  “That’s real,” Tia said, keeping her eyes on the book.

  I wondered what Clay would think of all this. Then I realized: I knew. He would think it was stupid. But he was wrong. I wanted Blake to be accountable, and I wanted him to know that I existed, and that Mom and I had made it without him.

  As those thoughts lingered my mind, the front door opened upstairs.

  “The ‘rents must be home.” Tia closed the phone book.

  Then I had an idea. “Do you think your parents know about him?”

  “That’s…a good question.” Tia put the book down. “But if you ask, they’d probably tell your Mom.”

  She was right. Jonathan and Clare were always so by the books. Let’s be honest: Tia’s parents were narcs. I always found it bizarre they had a kid like Tia. She broke rules as if it was her life’s mission.

  “You might wanna ask my dad. Mom’s probably heading to bed, you know how she is.” Tia pointed to the stairs. “But try to be subtle. You don’t want him telling your mom.”

  “All right,” I said, making my way to the stairs. How hard could it be?

  I could hear what I assumed to be a football game playing from the living room. Jonathan’s feet were up on the coffee table. Nan would have used the spray bottle on any of us if we dared try that.

  “Oh, come on! Three more yards!” He sighed.

  “Hey, hey Jonathan?” I said as I entered the room.

  “Anna! Hi, come have a seat.” He smiled. “I didn’t see you come in.”

  “Oh, I came in through the back door.” I sat down. “You were out.”

  “Figures. Tia had guests over last night.” He looked at me and rolled his eyes. “God, they were making a lot of noise. You’re lucky you weren’t here.”

  “No, but I was the one who dropped them off.” I laughed. “I remember those girls from Tia’s birthday party years ago.”

  “I do too. They’re good kids, but they never focused on anything. Never had any hobbies. Growing up, I always had sports—football, hockey, baseball. You, you always had your journal. I remember you always carrying that thing around.” Johnathan smiled.

  Jonathan always used to say that he couldn’t wait until I grew up to be an author, and to read a book by Annaka Brooks. But writing fiction wasn’t exactly my thing. I only wrote from the heart, for the heart.

  “I still have that journal, actually,” I said.

  “Hold on to it as long as you can,” he said. “One day when you look back, you’ll see all the magic you wrote it in.”

  If only he knew how far back I’d been looking.

  “But between you and me,” he whispered, leaning in. “You should stick with school too.” Then he sat back and said, “I know, I know, I’m just an old guy. But I know you, Anna. You have so much drive when you put your mind to it. School isn’t perfect, but you’re so close. Finish strong, please.” Of course Jonathan went there.

  “I’ll try to do better,” I said with a sigh. “I’m trying.”

  “That’s the first step!” Jonathan raised a finger in the air, as if this was some eureka moment. “And once that’s accomplished—”

  “Can I ask you something?” I cut him off.

  “Oh. Yes, of course. You can ask me anything.”

  I didn’t know what he would say or how he would react. It’s not like I had ever had the opportunity to ask anyone this question before. There was so much that could go wrong in theory…but it could also lead me to exactly what I was seeking. And I was the seeker, after all.

  There was no subtle way around this. I decided to face it head on. “Listen, my mom told me about my dad the other night, for the first time. Like, ever.”

  “Oh.” Jonathan froze. “Did she…tell you what he did?”

  “Yes. And he’s awful for doing that. He is so, so awful.”

  “I know.” Jonathan turned off the TV and gave me his full attention. “I never liked him,” he admitted. “And I was so angry when I found out what he did to your grandparents—especially what he did to your grandfather.”

  I nodded in agreement. “He’s still around, isn’t he?”

  Jonathan looked at me closely. “Are you trying to find him?”

  I paused. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was hesitant, but I had to decide. No more teetering. “Yeah,” I said eventually. “Yeah, I’m trying to find him.”

  “Anna, he’s not the type of person you seek out. He’s the type of person you leave in the past.”

  “But he was never in my past,” I cut in. “He was only ever in other people’s past. I never got that chance.”

  “Your mother left him behind,” Jonathan said. “And for a good reason: so he wouldn’t cause you hurt. I knew him; he wasn’t a good man. He only ever wanted to hurt other people. He wasn’t—”

  “What would you do in my shoes?” I interrupted. “You have to understand. What if you never had your parents? I’m not asking for a relationship. I’m just asking for a little bit of clarity. To make sense of all of this.”

  His facial expression changed; I could see the empathy making its way into him.

  “God. That must have been so hard on you.” He shook his head.

  “It was. I grew up looking at you and Tia, and wished I could have had something like that. But I never did. I just know if he’s here, I need to talk to him. I don’t want a father–daughter relationship. Not with him. Not with Blake.”

  “Blake….” Jonathan looked up at me. “Last I heard, he hangs out regularly at a bar just outside of town. I seen him there while I was at a staff get-together a little while ago. I haven’t been back since.”

  “What’s the name of the bar?”

  “The North Crow. But it’s not like you could get in—nor should you even try!”

  He didn’t know how resourceful I could be. “Thank you, Jonathan.” I gave him a hug. “This means the world to me.”

  “I can’t stop you from whatever you’re doing. But please be careful.” He looked at me. “If you got hurt, your grandfather would jump out of his grave to find me.”

  I grinned. “I’m sure he would. You have nothing to worry about.”

  I knew he regretted telling me, but I had to take what I could get. I ran back downstairs to see Tia on the last page of the phone book.

  “Nothing here,” she said, putting it down.

  “You must have known that at some point.” I crossed my arms.

  “I did. This thing is basically an artifact.”

  “Even by Yarmouth standards?”

  “Shut up.” She laughed. “What did you hear?”

  “Apparently Blake hangs out at The North Crow outside of town. Do you know where that is?”

  “Huh, I do,” Tia said. “How would we know if he’s there, though?”

  “Your dad said he’s a regular.”

  “Okay, okay. We can go by that. But how do we get in?”

  I didn’t want this to be a “we” thing. As much as I loved Tia for everything, I knew this could be messy. I thought about how badly I had messed things up just a few days ago. If I brought Tia into the mix, she could get into shit with her parents. I didn’t want to drag anyone else farther down this path with me.

  “I don’t know, Tia. I think this is something I gotta do on my own.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

  “I’m not! I’m being honest. I think this is something I have to do. Alone.”

  “Why do you say that? I thought we were a team?”

  “I know what I said. But if I’m going to
go into it, I gotta see him on my own terms. Remember what you said about boundaries?”

  She started to reply, but her face showed that she did remember. “Okay. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to blow up your phone. You text me immediately, okay, Anna Brooks?” She stood up and pulled me into a tight hug.

  “You got it, Tia Evans.” I hugged her back. “I appreciate you more than you know.”

  “I’m pretty great, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I laughed. “I’ll text you soon, okay?”

  I made my way to my truck, and knew I should at least tell Clay my plan. I wasn’t going to bring him along, but I owed it to him to at least let him know.

  Chapter 22

  Clay shook his head. “Anna, you can’t be serious.”

  “You remember what I told you?”

  “I know, but—”

  “But you thought I wouldn’t go through with it, did you?”

  “If I’m being honest, no. No I didn’t.”

  “You know how stubborn I am,” I said as I sat down on my bed. “And you know I’m a seeker. I have a thread, and you know—”

  “You’re gonna pull it. I know.” Clay sighed. “At least let me come with you. It’s getting late”

  “No,” I said firmly. “I have to go alone.”

  “What?!” Clay was beginning to get upset. “What happened to all the co-pilot talk?”

  I put my hands up like I was surrendering. “I know what I said, but please. You have to know where I’m coming from with this stuff.”

  “Are you going tonight?”

  “I thought I’d check it out.” I shrugged, trying to look casual.

  “What happens when he tries to hurt you, just like he hurts everyone else?”

  “Oh, cut it out, Clay. You’re too much sometimes.”

  “Too much of him?”

  I didn’t reply. I wasn’t going to go there now. I went to grab my keys, but couldn’t find my bag.

  “Here.” Clay handed it to me. “Don’t stay out too late, and be—”

  “Be safe. Yeah, yeah. I got it, Grandpa,” I said with a smirk.

  I left the house feeling brave, but as soon as I sat in the driver’s seat, my anxiety erupted. I kept taking breaths to bring myself back to the real world. I had a horrible feeling something bad was going to happen. It was hard to explain, but I could feel it inside of me.

  I looked up at the stars, took a deep breath, and hit the gas. Was I really going to find Blake? I didn’t know. Mom could never find out what I was doing. She would lose it. I wondered what Grampy might have thought. He might have been disappointed to some degree, but I knew ultimately he would understand.

  I eventually found the North Crow; I remembered seeing it when Mom and I had first driven in to town. It was old and run down, with flickering lights in the parking lot and grimy windows that were hard to see in. The “O” in the word “North” was falling off the sign. It didn’t exactly make me feel hopeful.

  I put the truck in park, grabbed my bag, and walked up to the entrance. The doorman was too distracted by drunken men on the deck. They were drinking and laughing loudly, and it was like I wasn’t even there. I made my way inside to see folks playing pool, drinking, and chatting. I knew better than to walk straight to the bar, so I slid into a booth. I looked around, trying to scope it out.

  I didn’t even know if Blake was there. I wondered if he still looked the same almost seventeen years later. Maybe he’d aged poorly, or maybe he’d moved on altogether. I had no idea.

  A bartender finally caught wind of me and approached the booth. “Can I help you?”

  “Uh…no. I’m just waiting for someone,” I said shyly.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Can I see some ID, please?”

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t as resourceful as I thought. My plan wasn’t perfect after all. The bartender showed me the door.

  Ahh, Anna. Why are you like this? I facepalmed on the way out. But I wasn’t about to give up—not that easily.

  I snuck around to the back, where more people were sitting on a deck overlooking the water. I knew I wasn’t getting back inside, but I made my way up the steps leading to the deck. Eventually an older man looked over at me.

  “Hey, you. You’re new here. What’s your name?”

  “Anna,” I replied without thinking. “My name is Anna.”

  The man was older, white, and had a gross patchy beard. I totally should have brought Tia or Clay; it was dumb of me to come here alone.

  “Are you even old enough to be here?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t matter, I’m here to find someone.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Blake. Blake Morrison.”

  “Blake? Whaddaya want with that bag of bones?” The man laughed.

  “Ah, shut the hell up, John,” said a voice that sent a shockwave down my spine. A man emerged from the shadows; he looked almost exactly as he had in my grandfather’s memory. He had a beard, blond like his hair, but I could see it was beginning to grey. His eyes were still blue, and his face was still long. His eyes were tired; just by looking at them I had a feeling he didn’t smile a lot.

  “What do you want?” he asked me. He was wearing a leather jacket and had a chain around his neck.

  “Are…are you—”

  “Yeah, I’m Blake. What the hell do you want, little girl? What did you say your name was, Anna?”

  I composed myself. “Yes. Anna. My name is Anna. I, uh…I’m—” My throat was starting to clog up. Why was I doing this? Why couldn’t I just let it go? What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Spit it out, little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl,” I growled at him. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a little girl. He didn’t get to minimize me. Not then. Not ever.

  “Then what do you want?”

  Was this really him? I knew the answer. But as soon as he approached me I regretted coming to this shady bar, with its gross men. But I was here now, and I knew I had to see it through.

  “I’m…I’m Jayla Brooks’s daughter.”

  Everything about his body language changed when he heard that. He went from being edgy, suspicious, and rude to having his shoulders relax, his jaw fall wide open, and his eyes light up. “You’re what?”

  “I’m, um, your daughter.” I stepped back slowly, unsure of what his reaction was going to be.

  “What’s going on here, Blake?” the man named John asked, looking up from his beer.

  “What? Holy shit.” Blake shook his head, staring at me. “No you’re not.”

  “Yes I am.”

  “Then prove it.”

  “My grandfather is Rudy Brooks, my grandmother is Tanya. Her maiden name is Grant. My grandfather left you stranded at your RV seventeen years ago after he found you drunk at a bar on the waterfront. My mom was in there.”

  “Holy shit.” Blake put his hands on his head. He was breathing heavily, like he couldn’t catch his breath. I thought about how I had drawn him earlier that day in my journal. It turned out I didn’t share any of his features—not his hair, chin, eyes, or nose. But the way he was trying to chase his breath, that was me. So that’s where I got it from.

  He waved me over when he finally regained his composure. “Come here, sit down.”

  I walked over, and past everyone on the deck. All eyes were looking at us in a “what the hell?” way, but I tried to ignore it. I was where I needed to be to find answers.

  “This way.” Blake sat down and pulled a seat out for me at the other end of the deck. “So you’re Jayla’s daughter. My daughter,” he said. I just stayed quiet while he had his moment. “Holy. I thought I would never meet you.”

  I put my bag down and sat in the chair. This whole encounter felt uncomfortable, but I knew this was probably one of the on
ly shots I would ever have to meet my father.

  “Can I give you a hug?” He got up without waiting for an answer and made his way towards me.

  “No.” I paused him with my hand. “I don’t think I’m into hugs.”

  “Okay.” He sat down. “That’s reasonable. I get it. It’s not every day something like this happens.”

  “No. It isn’t,” I agreed. If only he knew what my return home had been like.

  “So, why did you come?” he asked me. “Last I heard, you and Jayla took off somewhere. What brought you back to these parts?”

  “My grandfather, Rudy. He passed away.”

  Blake slumped when those words came out of my mouth. “Rudy…,” he murmured. “Oh, oh no.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Anna,” he said sincerely. “I know he meant a lot to a lot of people.”

  I couldn’t believe he was showing sympathy towards the man he beat up in his own driveway. He had hated Grampy. He had tried to steal his truck, along with a bunch of valuables from the house I grew up in.

  “Rudy was a good man,” Blake continued. “I loved him, very much.”

  I cringed. That’s not how it went down in the journal, and that’s definitely not what Mom told me.

  I decided to call him out. “Don’t pretend to grieve him. You hated him. And I know what you did.”

  Blake’s tone changed quickly. “Hated him? You should have seen how he treated me! That man was nasty to me. Awful.”

  “Just like how you were ‘nasty’ to my mom? And just like how it was ‘awful’ of you to break into their house and try to steal everything they had?”

  Blake gave me a long stare. It was like he was looking through me.

  “They fed you that lie, huh? I can assure you, that’s not how it went down. People can change, y’know.”

  “It wasn’t a lie,” I said. “Even Jonathan told me about you.”

  “Jonathan Evans? Ha, that fucking narcissist. What’s he up to nowadays? Still showing people the football trophies he won in high school?”

  “He’s clearly doing more than you.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that, girl. You might not know me but I’m still your—”