by Taylor Hale
Now I unlock the front door of an apartment building above a fried chicken shack in Hell’s Kitchen. The vestibule stinks faintly of mildew and cat urine. I haul myself up the cramped stairwell to the third floor. Rent isn’t cheap, but the apartment is within walking distance of my parents’ thrift shop.
“Livvie, is that you?” Mom calls when I get inside.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Tossing my keys on the console table, I drop my bag and kick my Vans onto the mat. So much has changed since I was a kid—I’ve moved, switched schools, lost and gained friends, but I’ve always had this style of dark blue shoes.
A warm light emanates from the living room, and my dad’s laughter bounces off the walls as Seinfeld plays on our small flat-screen TV. Mom’s bead kit is scattered on the coffee table, and she looks up from the necklace she’s stringing. My mom and I both have wintry-pale skin and straight, dark brown hair, but I have my dad’s blue eyes. And unlike Mom, both Dad and I can absorb tans instead of turning into lobsters.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad says.
“How was your appointment?” Mom asks.
I leaned on the arm of the love seat. “It was good. Dr. Levy seems more confident that I’m ready.”
Mom hooks an emerald gem to a gold chain. “That’s bad news for me, because you know how I feel about this trip.”
“She’ll be all right, Carrie,” Dad says. “Roger’s going to watch her the whole time.” My best friend’s dad is a cop, and when Keely’s parents agreed to take me in for the entire summer, my parents finally gave in.
“I’m allowed to worry, Allen.”
A picture hangs on the wall of them holding me when I was a baby. As the only child, I’ve always been the center of their worries and disagreements, especially when I was younger. But since the accident, I’ve become that kid who’d rather watch a movie with her parents than go to a party. The thought of being away from them for an entire summer terrifies me, but that’s why I need to go. I love my parents, but sometimes when I’m with them, I feel like a total loser.
Mom says, “And I have a bad feeling about that thing they found downtown. It’s very disturbing.”
With a sigh, Dad mutes the television. “I talked to Roger about that. The police don’t think it’s anything to worry about right now. There’s been no sign that anyone’s in danger.”
Caldwell Beach hasn’t had a known murder since the ’60s, but last month, someone scattered half a dozen butchered and skinned squirrels around town, strategically placed for people to find. On church steps, the fountain by town hall, even one at the elementary school.
“We lived there for years and it was always safe,” Dad says. “For all we know, there could’ve been another reason they were there. Maybe another animal dragged them in.”
“And skinned them alive with a knife?” Mom shudders dramatically. “It gives me the creeps. They say that’s how serial killers start out.”
“Roger’s the cop, and he says there isn’t any danger,” Dad says.
Mom faces me. “Are you sure you want to go, Livvie?”
The news report creeped me out—but if Roger Myers isn’t worried, I shouldn’t be. “Of all the things I’m scared of in Caldwell Beach,” I say, “that’s a little lower on the list, not going to lie.”
“Cheeky monkey,” Mom says, focused back on her beads. “We need to pick up the rental car first thing in the morning to beat traffic. Are your bags all packed?”
“Yeah, think so.”
“Go check, please. Make sure you have your medication, and don’t forget to pack Aqua.”
“Come on, Mom. I’m not a little kid.”
Annoyed, I go to my room and shut the door behind me. Of course I’m bringing Aqua, my childhood stuffed animal. She’s already packed. But after hearing Mom say that, I don’t want her. I shouldn’t need a freaking toy with me; I’m way too old for it. Ripping Aqua out of my suitcase by her chromatic scaly fabric, I toss her on my bed. She has buttons for eyes and stuffing bursting from the seams, but she’s been a constant in my life since the day I was born. Dr. Levy thinks it’d be good to bring her too. Two sessions ago we spent a half hour discussing how it would be helpful to have something that holds memories of a time before the accident.
A knock at the door, and Mom peeks her head in. “I wasn’t trying to annoy you, sweetheart.”
I flop on my bed and sit like a pretzel. There’s a gaping hole in the bottom of my left sock, which was white at some point in its life, and I rip at it. “I might be feeling a little moody,” I mumble.
After shutting the door, Mom sits next to me. “Are you nervous to see Miles again?”
“Yeah, who knows what he’s even like now, Mom? I mean, Miles grew up in a borderline castle. Everything I own is thrifted.” I tug at my blue California T-shirt. “I’ve never even been to California.”
“Olivia, you’ve never complained about your clothes before. And Miles never cared that we don’t have much money, remember? He adored you as much as you adored him.”
True. I loved everything about Miles Hendricks, even his quirks: no peanuts or crustaceans near him or he’d puff up like a blowfish; no talking about clowns because they’ve given him nightmares ever since he saw the television adaptation of It. Miles never wanted to do daring things like climb trees or test how long we could hold our breaths under water—in that sense, I had more in common with his brother, West. But Miles and I were still inseparable, even with our differences.
“I know, but . . . how Miles and I even became best friends still boggles my mind sometimes,” I say.
“Well I know exactly how you became best friends,” Mom says. “I’ll never forget your first playdate. I had been making you grilled cheese at home. You remember, right?”
“Of course.” Mom’s grilled cheeses are just Wonder Bread and processed cheddar slices, but they’re always the best. She’s told me this story a million times, but I let her continue.
“Then there was a knock at the door, and Beatrice Hendricks—one of the richest women in town—stood on the other side. I wish I could’ve seen my own face. I think I felt like I was somehow in trouble for something. Anyway, Beatrice said, and I’ll never forget it, ‘My son Miles has taken a liking to your daughter and would like to bring her to our estate for a playdate. If you could have her ready, we can drive you both immediately.’ She didn’t even ask! Just made the arrangements.”
We both laugh. “Yeah, Miles’s mom is terrifying, period,” I say.
“Yes, but her children were sweet, even the one you had problems with. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll blend right back in with your friends there.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”
The conversation makes me a little warmer, but once Mom leaves the room, the anxiety kicks back on. I pick up Aqua again. I will need something to comfort me while I’m there, but . . .
No. Even though part of me hurts, I put Aqua back on the dresser with the other relics from my childhood: the collection of seashells and stacks of Maine wildlife books. I throw on one of my volleyball hoodies, plug in my headphones, and head out for an evening run to clear my head. It doesn’t alleviate my stress the same way swimming used to, but I like the reverberation in my muscles as my feet slam concrete, and the way my lungs heave for air. I inhale breaths like I never drowned.
This trip isn’t just about getting over my fear of the water—it’s about growing up.
2
Through the window of the rental sedan, the familiar sight of the sea peeks over the trees. A mirage distorts the view beyond the hood of the car, and it’s impossible to tell where the asphalt ends and the ocean begins. Sun-bleached pines grow farther apart as we reach the coast. We’ve been driving for over seven hours—past the granite mountains, through the dense forests of Maine.
All this time to prepare, but I still don’t know how to feel. Caldwell might
be where I was born, but it doesn’t feel like I’m returning home, not the way I had hoped. I’m nervous. I sink in the backseat as the weather-torn sign appears: Caldwell Beach, Population 3,089.
This place has never been a hotspot for tourists like other coastal towns in Maine. Maybe it’s the undying morning fog, or the way the wind howls through the mountains late at night—but it’s one road in, one road out, forgotten by the rest of the world. Nothing more than where people go to outrun their pasts, where the rich cling to old estates, or where fishermen go to live out the rest of their days and die in solitude.
My parents came here for a fresh start. They’ve told me the story a million times, how they found each other at the Met in New York City, at an exhibit centered on the sea. They both dreamed of ocean air and clear skies. No light pollution to block out the stars. When my mom got pregnant, they made a decision: they would move somewhere remote, raise me to love nature, and live a happy life. And that was exactly what I had.
None of us could have anticipated how this place would affect me, least of all me.
Dad whistles from behind the wheel. “Been a long time since we’ve seen this, huh, Liv?”
I nod but say nothing. Mom glances at me from the passenger side, and her stare lingers before she perks up. “Oh look, Livvie, Roger and Keely are already here!”
On the side of the road, Keely hops up and down as we pull into the carpool lot. As freaked out as I am to be back, Keely Myers has been my anchor since our parents introduced us as playmates in preschool. We were the type of friends who operated as a single unit; we always looked for the prettiest butterflies, but showed them off to our classmates together instead of competing. She visits me every summer, but now, for the first time, I get to visit her.
Sand and stone crunch beneath the wheels as Dad parks the car. Outside, the ocean air envelops me. The warmth from land blends with the cool breeze from the Atlantic. It’s the smell of sulfur, salt, and sunscreen. My childhood.
“Liv!” Keely’s body slams into mine. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I breathe in the scent of vanilla-pineapple on her curly hair. “I can’t believe you’re finally here.” Keely grabs both my hands.
I look up at her. “Wait, how freaking tall are you? You’re a giant!”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Five ten.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Keely glows, like she has the sun’s glitter speckled on her copper brown skin. “I randomly hit a growth spurt this year, and now I’m like, the tallest girl in school.”
“Wow, jealous.”
While my parents talk to Keely’s dad, I look out at the town that descends the cliffs, the buildings all boxlike and multihued. They remind me of a coloring book scribbled on by a kid who can’t stay within the lines. On the water, sailboats soar to and from the harbor. Seagulls float against the wind. The ocean rocks in its constant, live motion.
Roger puts his hand on Keely’s shoulder while Mom takes the opportunity to trap me in a hug. We don’t have a lot of money, but she always manages to find a way to afford her Chanel Allure perfume. That smell is warm and inviting, an instant antidote to my anxiety—but soon she’ll be hours away from me for the first time in my life.
“All right, Liv,” Dad says. “We better head back, it’s going to be a long drive. We talked things out with Roger, so if you feel safe, we’ll hit the road.”
Roger’s eyes glint with concern. I’d overheard Dad on the phone with him a week ago, and they talked about my violent night terrors and the five years I’ve spent seeing a psychologist regularly. I don’t blame Roger for being nervous about looking after me for an entire summer.
“We can stay if you want us to, Livvie,” Mom says. “We could Airbnb a cottage. And remember, it’s never too late to go home.”
“No, it’s okay, Mom. You should go—Dad’s right, it’s a long drive. I’m fine, and I can handle this.”
But I’m still not a hundred percent sure I can. On the cliff down by the beach, the lighthouse is blood red against the ocean backdrop.
Since Caldwell was founded in the 1800s, fourteen documented deaths have occurred on that cliff. It’s because of the unique shape: a semicircle eroded in the rocks. When the waves are heavy, they swirl to create a vortex.
I know what it feels like to be swallowed by it: freezing and violent.
Mom touches my arm. “You’re right, you can do this. I have faith in you. And I trust you and Keely to stay safe.”
“Of course we will.”
After smothering me with hugs, my parents drive away. Roger and Keely smile warmly, disintegrating my doubts. After all, it was Roger Myers who pulled me out of the water all those years ago. Miles told me that after I fell, he’d been frozen. Bawling, he screamed for help until police lights flashed up the street and Roger hurried out of his cruiser. Even with the dangerous rapids, Roger dove into the ocean without hesitation and managed to save my life without getting hurt.
I wish I knew what it felt like to be carried to land, but the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital is the feeling of water in my lungs, and the eerie calm that fell over me. Not even two weeks later, my parents packed up and moved me away.
Roger places his hand on my shoulder. I’m as close with him as I can be with my best friend’s dad, but to me, he’ll always be a hero.
Downtown is only a short drive away, but every street brings back memories. The wheel of Roger’s SUV clunks in the same pothole that’s always been there, and we pass the old fire hydrant painted to look like an otter. The fish ’n’ chips shop shaped like a pirate ship still hasn’t repaired its electric sign, and the ropes lining the sidewalks are frayed and thinning. But not everything lines up with my memory. That burger shop used to be my parents’ store. That tree in the park was just a sapling. Most of all, the way I feel is so different, it’s hard to believe I ever lived here at all.
Roger parks outside of Coffee Cabin. “All right, Olivia, I’ll put your suitcases in the guest room. And Lemon”—he looks at Keely with “cop eyes”—“you be responsible tonight, okay?”
“Yes, Dad. I know.”
We get out of the car and watch Roger disappear around the corner.
“What does he mean be responsible?” I ask. “I thought we were getting iced capps and going to your place.”
“Are you kidding? It’s your first night back, Liv. As if I’m boring enough to not have plans for you.” Keely unzips her yellow backpack. Inside is a huge bottle of Smirnoff vodka.
“Wait, your dad lets you drink?”
“No, obviously not. But he trusts me. I’m his Lemon. Don’t worry, he won’t blame you if we get caught. Now c’mon—I told Miles to meet us, so he should be here any minute.”
Oh man. Miles. I’m not the headstrong girl I used to be. Will he even like me now?
The warm interior of Coffee Cabin hasn’t changed a bit, and the smell of espresso roasts in the air. After we order our drinks, we grab a booth by the window. Keely tugs at the bracelet around her wrist; hers is yellow and purple while mine is green and blue, but it’s around my ankle. We made them with Mom’s kit last summer as we’d sat cross-legged on my living room rug.
“Nervous to see Miles?” Keely asks wickedly.
“What? No.”
“Yeah, right. Still think you two are going to get married?”
“Oh my God, Keely. Stop. Don’t say anything like that to him, please. I never said Miles and I would get married, everyone else did.”
“Oh, chill out. You know I’m not that much of a bitch.”
The door dings, and a guy in a seafoam-green T-shirt and tan shorts walks in.
“Olivia?”
“Miles?”
I stand, but stop myself from saying something stupid. Miles Hendricks used to be shorter than me.
Not anymore, but he still has the same pale skin kissed red from the sun and sandy blond curls.
“Miles, you’re so . . . different!”
“So are you.” He flicks a strand of my hair, just like he used to when we were kids. A string of shark teeth hangs around his neck, and his dimples pronounce when he smiles. Of course I’ve seen pictures of him, but he looks better in person. Keely scooches over in the booth so Miles can sit across from me.
“All right, Miles,” Keely says, “I’ve got the booze. Can we hang out at your place, or will your dad freak out?”
“Aren’t we going to Carter’s?”
A pause.
“Well . . . no,” Keely says. “I don’t know.”
“Why? What’s going on at Carter’s?” I ask.
“Houseboat party,” Miles says. “Everyone from our grade is going. It’ll be the perfect time for you to like, re-meet everyone, Liv.”
“But, Miles.” Keely slaps his arm. “It’s on a boat.”
“Oh, right.”
I tug at the elastic on my wrist. Being the center of attention is the worst. And crapping all over Miles and Keely’s plans just because I’m scared of water would be so lame. I can’t be who I was in New York, not here.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m here to get over my fears, Keely. Not hide from them.”
“Wait, so you’re down for the party?” Keely says. “Oh my God, yes, seriously Liv, you’re going to love it.”
Will I, though? Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. Wanting to change the subject, I face Miles. “So, how’s your dad? Or Faye? And your brother?”
“Everyone’s fine. Faye has her Summer Intensive for ballet, so she won’t be around until tomorrow.”
“What about West? He seems to have dropped off the earth even more than I have.”
I’m trying to play it cool, but my curiosity about West has been eating at me for literally years. His name sounds so foreign on my tongue now. The truth is, I don’t even know what West Hendricks looks like anymore. After I moved away from Caldwell Beach, I followed everyone who wasn’t already on my list on Instagram, and almost everyone accepted. Miles’s older brother didn’t. He picked up his phone, with its request from Olivia Cathart, and clearly ignored it. Years later, he’s still never accepted the request.