by Cara Dee
I'd lost my passion, a great amount of my empathy, and my dignity. I at least had to keep my sense of loyalty and solidarity.
I flashed Brady a smirk, though. I did think he was right.
*
The ride over to the little island wasn’t longer than five minutes, but it was enough to blow some life into me, if only for a moment. I sat back in the boat, Brady taking the wheel and loving it, and I merely relaxed and breathed in the sea air.
Despite the crashing waves we pierced through, despite the sound of the engine, there was peace in feeling free. The sun broke through the clouds and gifted us some warmth, too, and I tugged off my sweatshirt.
My arms looked too pasty for July. Brady, inheriting my dark hair and pale eyes, had a nice tan that he probably liked to show off a bit too much. Especially if there were girls around. It helped that he worked out regularly—unlike his pathetic father—and had a physique to be proud of.
Lord, wasn’t I a ray of sunshine?
Shielding my eyes from the sun, I watched the island as we got closer and closer. My top childhood memories came from there. All the summers of running around, being away from my rigid parents, and spending unforgettable nights with a guy I'd wished was more than a friend.
"Has anything changed?" Brady was slowing down, almost at the dock now.
"No, not really." I stood up, ready to help him secure the boat. The little forest looked the same, and I could see the Keeper's cabin peeking out from the trees. The nearby bay seemed to hold more equipment; I saw jet skis, a few Optis, and a rack of kayaks. "Maybe the cabin's a new color, I'm not sure." I recalled yellow that was peeling off. Now it was dark red. "I hope your generation's Keeper is better than mine."
Grumpy old fool we'd been stuck with. He'd despised children, and he'd been allowed to hold his position for far too long if you asked me.
Brady smirked and lifted his brows, then jumped up on the dock. "I guess. You can always go up there and say hi to him while I get the sea glass we collected earlier."
A good parent would probably show they cared. My mother embarrassed me back in the day by heading over here to introduce herself and give him a basket of mini muffins.
I scratched my head, reminded of my hair being shorter after Lissa cut it.
"I'm sure he's nice." Climbing up on the dock, I looked for a place to sit while Brady did what he came here for. Sea glass. For some craft project, I bet.
Brady's forehead creased. "Actually, I was hoping you'd go up there 'cause I need his help."
"How so?" I tilted my head. "I can help, you know."
He looked frustrated all of a sudden. "Jesus Christ, just get the Keeper for me, Dad. It's camp business."
Oh, camp business. Well, why didn’t he just say so? I nearly rolled my eyes. But I humored him and said I'd bring Keep for him. The faster I got this over with, the sooner I'd be home again.
Lissa and I would be alone for an entire month.
As I trekked up the hill, I pondered if that was a good thing or not. It probably wasn’t, and I was the horrible man who wished there was a camp for her, as well.
She would likely have plans for us to reconnect as partners. I wanted to crawl into my pit of misery, and she wanted to fix me. If only it were that simple.
I grunted under my breath, ascending the last bit of the hill that was all rock and boulders before the forest took over. It was so sad it was almost funny how out of shape I'd become.
The cabin looked like a reprieve—an escape from reality. Recently painted, the porch redone. I took the two porch steps in one leap and knocked on the door.
I'd introduce myself, tell him my son needed his assistance, and then get back to the boat.
Of course, with my luck, none of that happened.
The door opened, and what little life I had stored in my body was sucked out of me. No. Fuck, no. This couldn’t be happening. I was seeing things, losing my fucking mind. My chest squeezed. No, no, no. My face drained of color, and I stumbled back a step as the nausea hit me with force.
He couldn’t be here.
Kelly's eyes went from wide to cautious.
He's changed. He's not the same.
"Will…"
Fuck.
I shook my head. No, he couldn’t be here. I turned around before I lost my breakfast on his porch, and I hurried toward the dock.
"Will!"
"God—" My hands shook, a cold sweat broke out, and I had to smash my lips together to keep from vomiting.
"Goddammit, Will, can you hold the fuck up?"
Like a flip of a switch, my nausea was replaced by blinding rage. I wasn’t in control of myself when I spun around to tell him to get the hell away from Camassia. I didn’t know he'd been right behind me, though, so I ended up taking a step backward.
"You get out of my fucking face," I growled. Anger spiked and caused me to tighten my hands into fists, and I was grateful. I was grateful for the fury. It held me together. I shook but didn’t fall apart. "You can't be here."
Seeing him so close, for the first time in twenty-four years, sent me spiraling into a sea of complete madness. And if I didn’t get away, I'd be lost forever. My eyes worked against me, registering every little change, cataloguing them, permanently etching them onto my goddamn retinas. His face had hardened and matured. His features were sharper, jaw dusted in scruff. His hair was too short for it to be curly. It wasn’t dripping wet from midnight swims. There was no carefree grin. His sea-green eyes weren't lit up with dreams and rebellion.
"You can't be here," I heard myself repeat in a voice I didn’t recognize. Hoarse, strained. "I'm holding on by a fucking thread as it is—"
"Hey." He held up a hand in half caution and took a step forward. I flinched, and something flashed in his eyes. Worry. "Jesus Christ, Will, I don’t…" He ran a hand through his hair, a trait I remembered too well. "What the hell happened? I expected you to be pissed, but…"
Why he would expect that was beyond me. As it was, I was barely fighting off panic, and I was losing. Questions formed, questions about why he was here, how long he'd been back in town, how long he was staying—and so the nausea returned with a vengeance.
"I have to go." I turned around again and blinked past the stinging in my eyes. I had maybe two minutes before I broke, and the thought of Brady seeing me this way—or worse, finding out something I didn’t want him to know—was crippling.
He's back. Kelly's back.
I rubbed the spot over my heart and jumped down a big rock, searing pain spreading across my chest. Being a seasoned professional at having panic attacks, I knew it wasn’t a heart attack, but fuck me if it didn’t feel like one.
"Whether you like it or not, we're going to talk!" Kelly shouted after me.
I bent over for a moment. Bile traveled up my throat, though I managed to swallow past it and continue down the hill. To an outsider, I wondered how ridiculous I seemed. To me, it was a matter of life and death.
Aside from spotting a panic attack a mile away, I'd also learned how to fake it so well I deserved a damn Oscar. Brady eyed me curiously and thoughtfully a few times on the way back to Big Chinook; however, when I said I was only tired, he let it go fairly quickly. He knew his dad was a miserable son of a bitch who was on a constant string of antidepressants, sleeping pills, and anxiety meds.
*
An hour later, I was back home. The door to my study was locked, and my impending explosion never arrived. Moments after I'd dropped into my chair, I'd imploded instead, and now I sat here completely numb.
I swallowed a Xanax for all the wrong reasons.
Take me away from myself. I'll do anything.
Lissa left me alone. Upon seeing me after my run-in with Kelly, she'd joked and said I looked like I'd seen a ghost. Eerily accurate. I hadn't commented on it, so I assumed she believed it had simply been too much today. I got overwhelmed too easily when I was ill.
I scrubbed my hands down my face, then leaned back and stared at the
ceiling.
It struck me that I chose the ceiling to stare at when I was at my worst, only because when I looked out the window, it wasn’t the view of our backyard I saw. It was my reflection in the glass. I couldn’t bear seeing myself.
Hiding. Unwilling to face reality.
Great, now I was psychoanalyzing myself, too. Occupational hazard. Or just me being a neurotic head case.
Scratching my beard absently, I filled in the blanks of what I would be going through right now if I weren't blissfully sedated by medication and my own disorder. Shock, probably. Embarrassment, no doubt. Last time I saw Kelly, I'd kissed him. Shame. I could picture myself blushing, even. A horrendous trait that had followed me into adulthood.
I closed my eyes and took a long breath, trying to reach that crest where my already filled lungs were topped off with a dose of relief. I'd studied diaphragmatic breathing and taught the children I worked with how to activate the parasympathetic part of the nervous system. In times of stress, it was good for them to know that their bodies were equipped to relieve anxiety and stabilize blood pressure.
How ironic that those with anxiety and depression didn’t get that relief as easily, though that was a stupid excuse. I simply didn’t practice what I preached as often as I should.
I exhaled again, and I lolled my head until I sat up straighter and saw the drawer I had my photos in. This time, I wasn’t even tempted. All questions and energy had drained out of me. There was one worry concerning Kelly, and it was his final promise. Whether I liked it or not, we were going to talk.
Knowing him, he could show up whenever, wherever, and not give a rat's ass if I was alone or if Lissa was there with me.
I couldn’t afford that.
The thing was, Kelly wasn’t very involved in my fucked-up state. It was all me. But since he'd been part of the catalyst, many topics circled back to him and my childhood. I wished I could erase every memory.
Now you're lying, and stop wishing.
"Honey?" Lissa knocked quietly on the door. "You need to eat something."
I kept forgetting that. After taking my antidepressant, I heaved myself out of the chair and opened the door, and I stared at my wife. Truly stared at her, as if I was willing feelings from the past to come back to life.
She was a beautiful woman. I liked her gentle smiles, the way she was toward our children, her heart, and everything from her caramel hair and blue eyes to her delicate frame and soft curves.
She'd made me feel like a real man at one point.
Now…? I didn’t know.
How did you love when you couldn’t find it in you to care?
"Don’t you get tired?" I had to ask.
She smiled, confused. "Tired of what?"
"Being my keeper." As soon as that last word was out, my stomach revolted and churned. Keeper. Good Christ, was Kelly actually Keep now?
"I believe in you, William. In us." She sighed and linked her arm with mine, nudging me to the stairs. "For better or for worse. I'm not the woman who will only stand by you when the sun is shining."
She had no idea that her pure heart only twisted the knife deeper. I may have lost weight, but with the guilt I was carrying, I felt like the heaviest person to walk this earth.
I wasn’t hosting a pity party or fishing for reassurance when I said she deserved better, which I certainly did from time to time. I meant it.
"You know my stance." I kissed the side of her head and headed down the stairs.
"Do you really mean it?"
"Do I mean what?" I sat down at the table and stiffened when I saw her pulling a casserole from the oven, drinks from the fridge, and green beans from the stove. I wasn’t even aware of my surroundings, and I'd forgotten to be helpful. I just sat my ass down and got everything handed to me.
"Sometimes, you tell me I should save myself and get out of our marriage." She side-eyed me carefully and put food on my plate. "Do you mean it?"
"Yes." I had to be honest about that. Here was this woman who did everything for me, and I gave absolutely nothing in return. "I can barely take care of myself. You cater to my every need—thank you"—I wasn’t too fond of green beans—"while I mosey around like a useless zombie."
Lissa frowned and sat down, too. "Didn’t your therapist tell you not to demean yourself?"
My therapist said a lot of things.
I forced myself to eat, as usual. Other than vaguely registering the taste of curry, it was bland to my taste buds.
Lissa stared at her food for a minute, then faced me with a weary expression. "I fear what would happen if I didn’t take care of you."
I swallowed a lump that tasted like acid. My eyes burned, and I kept my gaze firmly downward.
"I wouldn’t…" I cleared my throat and set down my fork. "What happened that time—I wouldn’t go there again, Lis."
"How can I be sure?" she whispered. "I'll never forget it." Please don’t say it. "I saw the way you held that gun."
I coughed into my fist and hid my quivering chin by wiping my mouth with my napkin. Then I shook my head. "It's not as bad this time." I felt sick to my stomach, remembering that evening too well. I'd kept thinking…one pull of the trigger, and it would all be gone. I would be free.
"This time," she repeated softly.
I couldn’t eat. Even I wasn’t that good at pretending. Having the strongest urge to disappear for a while, I blurted out, "I have to step outside later." And the plan formed in my head even though I could be thrown into panic at the mere notion.
I'd become amazing at procrastinating, yet this, I thought I might as well get it over with. Seeing Kelly. He'd demand to talk sooner or later, and I wouldn’t risk having Lissa nearby. I hadn't expected it to be tonight, though. Fuck, I couldn’t believe I was actually entertaining the idea—or deciding to go for it.
"Where?" Lissa asked.
I'm going to take the boat and head over to see my male, childhood friend, with whom I was in love and who happens to be back in town.
"I'm supposed to exercise more, you know," I replied. "I thought I'd leave the car and walk up to Ponderosa. Maybe see Alex." He was another childhood friend.
"That sounds like a great idea." Lissa smiled, taking relief in the smallest things. Exercise was important, particularly for those with depression. So my lie was a triumph for her.
I was the lowest of men.
*
I hadn't thought this through.
After arguing with myself and circling Little Chinook twice, going back and forth between manning up and cowering away, I finally docked the boat. Darkness had fallen, and I stayed on the dock for several minutes, struggling against panic and fear.
A glowing light flickered between the trees on the big island. Campfire, I assumed. The wind wasn’t right. Otherwise, I would've heard children singing and a counselor or two playing the guitar.
"Are you just gonna stand there?"
"For fuck's sake!" I spun around and glared at Kelly, my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest. Motherfucker.
Hands in his pockets, he trailed closer down the dock until he was next to me. "Didn’t think I'd see you so soon."
"That makes two of us." I tore my eyes away and pretended to find the campfire on Big interesting. "I know a threat when I hear one, though. You said we were going to talk, so let's do that, and then we can go on with our lives."
I positively vibrated with resentment. Little jolts went through my system, shocking me to life, and it was unfair. It was unfair because I'd been trying for months to feel anything that resembled this. I guessed facing your fears put enough terror in you to make you think you'd been electrocuted.
"I didn’t threaten you." Kelly frowned. "And what's this moving-on-with-our-lives shit? Did I screw things up so bad you can't even look at me?"
"What the—I don’t know what you're talking about," I responded impatiently and looked away again. "This has nothing to do with you. A lot has happened in the past two decades, and it's none of you
r concern." I paused. "I don’t know why you're back in Camassia, but it doesn’t change anything. We haven't been friends in a long time."
"We were more than friends, Will."
My gaze swung to his, and for the tiniest second, I both feared and hoped I'd hear something I'd only dreamed of. Then I cursed myself to no end and could've beaten myself bloody for going there.
"We were brothers, goddammit," he implored.
I let out a hollow laugh and hung my head. It was funny. I thought most of me had died already, and I learned that wasn’t entirely true until he just spoke those words. Brothers. Yeah. Brothers.
"Christ," I whispered to myself. It was the teenager in me who'd had his candle of life snuffed out. Perhaps, on some level, he'd hoped against hope to find out he wasn’t repulsive.
"Come on, Will!" Kelly ran deeper into the forest. "The summer's fucking ours!"
I grinned and ran after him, and we didn’t stop until we reached the cave on the other side of the island. Most didn’t know it existed. The narrow mouth of the cave waited for us.
We panted and stubbed our toes on the slippery rocks halfway out in the water, then collapsed into fits of laughter when got to our place. The flat boulder was as familiar as ever. We sat down, and I snuck furtive glances at Kelly. He was right. The summer was ours—our last one before we went off to college together. I had to let him know how I felt.
I shouldn’t have done that. For years, Kelly had favored me. I was the first person he turned to for anything. Everything. I'd stupidly mistaken his intentions. Actually, I hadn't, but it had given me hope. I'd gone to bed each night thinking maybe. Maybe he felt the same. Maybe he liked to hug me because he liked me, too. But no. I'd been his brother.
I groaned internally and pinched the bridge of my nose. Nothing wrong with my long-term memory, that was for damn certain. Wasn’t I in enough agony?
"Why are you back, Kelly?" I asked tiredly.
Chapter 4
Kelly Oakley
Why was I back?