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Annaka

Page 24

by Andre Fenton


  “You’re still my what?” I challenged. “You’re still my father? That role was taken a long time ago by a man named Rudy Brooks.”

  Blake tensed up, resentment forming in his eyes. He didn’t like that, not at all. But that was the kind of response he’d earned. I wasn’t going to pretend this loser in front of me was my father. How did he go from wanting to start his own business to being a regular at some shady bar just north of Yarmouth? The entire situation made me feel gross.

  He looked frustrated. “I guess I should ask: why did you come here tonight?”

  That was a question I should have considered in more depth. But I already felt like depth was something Blake was lacking.

  “Was it money? ’Cause I ain’t rich, sweetheart.”

  “I figured.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know why I came here. I guess I just wanted you to know that I exist, and that I’m fine.” I looked at our sad surroundings. “And I want to know why you did what you did. Why did you hurt Grampy? Why did you hurt Mom?”

  “Hurt them? They’re the ones who always second-guessed me. They took you away from me, and have the nerve to make me the bad guy!”

  I stood my ground. “You took yourself away from me,” I said. “You chose to try and rob them, and you chose to not reach out to me after you were out of jail. You chose to be a ghost story, and now you’re choosing to victimize yourself.”

  “I’m tired of this shit. You talk just the way Jayla does. Thinks she’s too good for everyone else. I can see I didn’t miss out on much.”

  “I could say the same thing.” I stood up. “I don’t even know why I thought this would change anything. All it did was confirm that Mom was right to leave.”

  I was so fucking done with this man. To know what I knew, see what I have seen, and then have him try to justify it all made me feel sick to my stomach. What did he ever do with his life? Mom raised me on her own, in a city that is always pushing people who look like us away. To have him trying to be the voice of reason was astounding. I turned to go.

  “Wait, sit down.” He waved and added in a soft voice, “I’m sorry, okay?” His face had a pained expression. “I always regretted not being in your life. I didn’t mean to come off as a dick.” He was beginning to breathe heavily again.

  I paused. I had come this far—why not give him another minute? “All right. What do you wanna say?” I asked, taking my seat again.

  “I don’t know if saying sorry will really mean anything, especially from someone like me. I don’t expect you to forgive me for doing what I did, or for not stepping up to be the father a kid needed. I regret that every day, believe it or not.” He looked down at his hands and then back up at me. “You think I never thought about having a daughter? Or all the things we could have done together? It haunts me.” He shook his head. “But that’s what I gotta live with.”

  Hearing those words caused a storm to stir inside my heart. Blake thought about the same things I did?

  I hadn’t expected to hear that. I was more surprised than anything else. “I…think about those things too.” I looked down. Had I been too mean? I kind of regretted going off on him like that.

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He looked up at me, tears in his eyes, a half grin on his face. Maybe time really could change people.

  “What happens now, then?” I was almost afraid to ask.

  “Sit right here. There’s something I want to show you.” He got up. “I keep it in my car. I’ll be right back.” He walked off around the building, I was guessing to the parking lot out front. What did he want to show me?

  I glanced around the deck and noticed all the men staring at me. I couldn’t handle their eyes, so I grabbed my phone to check the time. It was past midnight and I had a few messages from Tia.

  Tia: Did you go? What happened?

  Tia: Keep me in the loop. I’m half tempted to drive out there myself.

  Tia: ???

  I put my phone down when I heard John laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked him.

  “Blake, that daddy of yours? The reason he comes all the way out here is because he’s banned from most bars in town.”

  I didn’t reply. I just looked at him, confused. Why would he tell me that?

  “Never pays his tabs. He’s a thief. And as you can see, he’s made off with your bag.”

  I looked down—my bag was gone.

  “What the fuck!”

  Blake was a compulsive liar, and I should have known better than to trust him. It must have been the same manipulative shit he’d used on Mom. I made my way around the building to see Blake running. But not towards a car…he was running away from something. He had my bag in his hands.

  “What the hell are you?!” He was screaming like a baby.

  I didn’t see who it was, but I could hear someone yelling back, “Give me that damn bag!”

  “Holy shit,” I whispered. I knew that voice.

  “Clay!” I yelled. What was he doing there? How was he there? I thought I’d left the journal in my bedroom.

  Oh, shit.

  I remembered that I hadn’t been able find my bag, and Clay had handed it to me. He must have stuck the journal in there. I couldn’t believe I’d missed that. Goddammit, he was sneaky.

  I chased after them and I could see Clay grab Blake’s arm only to be punched in the face. Clay didn’t look too fazed, and reacted by head-butting Blake, knocking him back a few feet. Blake still had the bag as he retreated towards the road. Cars were zooming by.

  “Give me my bag!” I yelled, running towards Blake. He couldn’t take the journal, and he couldn’t damage it. I didn’t care about anything else in that bag; I just had to get the journal back.

  “Anna, what is that thing?” Blake kept walking backwards, barely able to keep his composure.

  I didn’t reply. I just walked forward. Blake was trying to make a quick buck off of me, just like he had with Mom, Nan, and Grampy.

  “Clay, you shouldn’t have come,” I scolded as I passed him.

  “Neither should you.” He glared at me, annoyed.

  “Wait here,” I instructed. “Don’t engage with him. There are people everywhere, and these are not the kind of people we want to fuck with.”

  I walked past Clay and towards Blake; his face was pale but he still had a grip on the bag. I couldn’t tell if he really wanted it or if he was having a panic attack.

  “Give it back!” I demanded.

  “What the hell is that thing?” Blake repeated as he moved closer to the road.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I closed my fist. “Give me that bag. Now.”

  “Anna, I think we have a problem,” I heard Clay say from behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see all the men from the deck had followed us to the front of the building. Clay was visible, and they were all staring at him.

  “What the hell?!” I heard John yell.

  The rest of the crew looked shocked to see Clay standing there, in his true form.

  “Blake, get away from them!”

  “What is that animal?”

  “Lock the doors!”

  The voices echoed across the parking lot. Clay looked at me—his biggest fear was playing out in front of us. He looked frozen, unsure of what to do. He was trying to catch his breath, just like me, just like…Blake.

  “I’m not giving you anything, you freaks!” Blake had made it to the edge off the road.

  From the distance, I heard a loud honk and saw headlights flash. I couldn’t let anything happen to the journal—no more playing nice. I ran up to Blake, managed to grab hold of one end of the bag, and pulled; he fell forward but kept his strong grip.

  “Let go, the strap is going to break!” I yelled.

  Maybe I should have just let go. Because what happened next changed
everything.

  “Anna, let it go!” I suddenly heard Clay scream.

  I hadn’t heard him yell like that before and it made me pause and look back. He was running towards us. When I turned back to Blake the strap on my bag finally broke. The bag flew into the air, out of all of our reach, and landed in the road.

  “Shit!” I yelled.

  I looked to the left and saw an eighteen-wheeler barrelling towards us. I pushed Blake to the ground and darted for the bag. It was dark and I knew the truck wouldn’t see any of us, but I kept running.

  “Anna!” I could hear Blake’s voice. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Before I reached the bag, Blake grabbed my arm to haul me back. But I twisted his wrist and kicked him in the knee. The lights from the eighteen-wheeler lit me up, and I tried to jump for the bag, but someone tackled me onto the shoulder of the road as the truck’s horn blasted.

  I looked up to see Clay’s face. He was more concerned with saving me than trying to reach the journal.

  “I’m sorry, Anna,” he whispered, tears running down his cheeks.

  “No!” I screamed. “The journal!”

  I locked eyes with Clay as his face embodied a pain I’ve never seen. His whole body tensed, and blood began to drip from his mouth. He staggered, gasping. When he fell, I tried to catch him, but I was too far away. He laid down, his arms and legs moving in jerky, unnatural motions. It was an image that would haunt me for the rest of my life. His body kept twisting and turning, until suddenly he vanished.

  “Clay!” I reached for the spot I had last seen him, but he wasn’t there.

  I scrambled to my feet to see what was left of my bag. It was torn to shreds, decimated by the eighteen-wheeler. I pulled out the journal and saw it had been almost completely torn in half. Pages were falling out and the cover had a deep black tread mark on it.

  “Clay, buddy, where are you?” I couldn’t catch my breath; tears began rolling down my cheeks. “You can’t be gone, you can’t be. I can’t lose you.”

  “Are you stupid? Who do you think you are? You think you can just jump into oncoming traffic?” Blake grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back to the parking lot. “What the hell is wrong with you, little girl?”

  Something inside me snapped. I looked up and planted my fist so hard in Blake’s face that blood spurted from his nose. He fell back to the ground, hard.

  “My name,” I yelled, “is Annaka!” I glared down at him. “My name is Annaka Brooks!”

  Everything came out all at once. For so long I had been afraid to embrace who I was meant to be. I had always hated that part of myself, and never really knew why. But I was finally starting to realize the importance of identity, and honouring the people who came before me. The ones who made sacrifices so I could grow. I had been ignorant to it for a long time, but it finally made sense. I was finally growing into my identity, and I wasn’t about to let anyone undermine it. As I stood over my father, I knew Clay had been right about Blake. I had been chasing hurt. Even though I was a seeker, I was seeking a past that never wanted me. But now I knew who I was, and I knew all the people I carried with me: Mom, Clay, Grampy, Nan, Tia, the Evanses, all of them. They mattered to me. Not some loser, bleeding on the side of the road. Not that thief.

  Clay was nowhere to be seen. Blake was still on the ground, nursing his bloody nose in shock. His deck buddies were yelling incoherently and making their way across the parking lot to him.

  “Clay? Clay, where are you?!” I couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Not tonight.

  I ran for my truck and heard Blake’s yelling: “What is wrong with you? What the hell was that thing?” He was still lying on the ground.

  I put my keys in the ignition, put the truck in drive, and floored it towards Blake. He scrambled out of the way, and at the last minute I turned onto the road. I never wanted to see that man again. He was toxic. He was poison. He was…the reason why we left Yarmouth in the first place.

  I floored it all the back down the main road. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I didn’t even know where Clay was; he had just disappeared. The journal was sitting on the passenger side, almost torn apart.

  “Come on, Clay!” I yelled while trying to focus on the road. “Give me something. Give me anything. Please.”

  I couldn’t lose my best friend. I could feel my throat begin to clog up.

  “No. Not now.” I tried to calm myself down but it was only getting worse. An anxiety attack is like quicksand—the more you struggle, the deeper it pulls you down. I could feel myself sinking into it while on the road. It was the worst possible time to have an anxiety attack.

  Suddenly I heard a groan from the passenger seat.

  “Ohhh God.”

  I looked over to see Clay holding his stomach. Blood was still pouring from his mouth.

  “Clay! Shit, are you okay?” I managed to ask.

  “No,” he whimpered. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

  I knew I had to stay focused. I had to get him back to the house, and repairing the journal would repair him. But when I looked over again I noticed the blue energy rising from him like fog.

  “Clay, what’s happening?”

  “I don’t know. But you have to hold on. Keep driving.”

  I gripped the steering wheel as hard as I could, but that did nothing to keep my mind grounded. The wheel faded into nothing, and so did the seat I was sitting in, along with the rest of the truck. I was floating and Clay was nowhere to be seen.

  “Clay? Clay!”

  Gravity kicked in like it had been waiting for me, and I fell on my butt.

  As I was catching my breath I could feel something, someone, pull my hair.

  “Ow!” I closed my eyes, and when I opened them I was back on my grandparents’ front steps. “What the fuck!”

  “Annaka!” my grandmother scolded. She was braiding my hair. “Who taught you language like that?”

  “Nan?”

  “Me?! You know I don’t use that language.”

  “No. I mean, why are we here?”

  I looked at my hands, and saw I was a little girl again. I didn’t know what was going on—why did Clay take me back? Was I still driving the truck in the present? What caused this sudden shift?

  “Don’t be foolish,” Nan said. “We live here.”

  “No.” I stood up, grabbing my hair.

  “Wait! We’re not done.” Nan tried to grab me to sit back down, but I slipped her grip and ran up into the tree house. What was happening? I looked out the tree house window at the lake. There were pleasure boats and warm sun. It was like any other summer day.

  “Why are we back here?” I asked aloud. I climbed back down the ladder and saw Nan had followed me and was waiting at the bottom.

  “Aren’t you gonna let me finish your hair? We can’t have you running around looking like that!”

  “The journal,” I said to myself. I had to find it. It had to be in my room, where it always was. I ran past Nan and made my way inside. When I opened my bedroom door, I spied the journal on the bed. Yes!

  But when I picked it up, the book began falling apart in front of me.

  “No. No. No! Clay? Where are you?”

  The bedroom faded into the dark place. The only thing that remained was my closet door. It was open a crack and I could see a blue glow seeping from inside.

  “Are you in there?” I asked, approaching the door.

  I pushed it open and the light blinded me.

  When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting at a table with Laura, Taylor, and Lucy. We were all young. I looked across the table to see Tia at the front.

  “Happy birthday, Tia!” Jonathan came in holding a cake.

  “Oh no.” I put my head in my hands. Was I trapped in the memories?

  Jonathan began cutting the cake and placing pi
eces in front of each of us.

  “Aren’t you gonna eat, Annaka?” he asked me.

  “I’m not hungry,” I replied.

  I put my head down. How was I going to get out of this? Without the journal, without Clay, there was nothing I could do.

  “Oh, come on,” Jonathan was saying. “A little cake won’t hurt anyone.”

  When I looked up, Jonathan was gone. So was everyone else. The table stayed, and on it was a slice of birthday cake. I was surrounded by darkness.

  “Clay, if you’re there,” I said, “please bring me back.”

  “Oh my gosh, Annaka. You’re still going on about that imaginary friend?” I could hear Tia laugh, but she wasn’t there. I could hear the other girls laugh too, and I felt alone. I didn’t respond. I just sat there in front of my cake.

  “What were you freaking out about?” I heard my grandfather’s concerned voice as the table and cake disappeared.

  “Because I’m pregnant.” Mom’s voice filled my ears. “It’s true!” I heard Mom’s cries in the darkness. “All I do is let you down. All I do is let everyone down. I am such a fuck-up. I just ruined everything!” Her words echoed.

  “Shhh,” I heard Grampy reassuring her. “You can never let me down.” His humming fill the air, and I couldn’t help but cry. I shut my eyes, hoping I could escape this darkness. But all I heard was Grampy humming away. Tears ran down my cheeks.

  Eventually my grandfather’s humming turned into Aunt Annaka’s humming.

  When I opened my eyes, I was in the hospice again.

  “Oh no, not this one.” I shut my eyes. “I hate this one so, so much.”

  Grampy and Annaka couldn’t see or hear me—this wasn’t my memory—but I could see Grampy crying as he held on to Annaka’s arm, screaming her name.

  “Annaka! Come back, Come back, please. Annaka. Please.”

  I closed my eyes and I felt cool air and smelled fresh grass. I opened my eyes and I was in a park. I looked at my hands and I was a little girl again, just like in the first memory I’d gone back to. I took a few steps and tripped.

  “Annaka.” Grampy was laughing. “Look at you, tripping all over yourself.”

 

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