The Lake Never Tells

by Alex Tully

  Parker looked down and walked away. He usually came running to greet Ethan.

  Something was really wrong.

  “So what’s going on?” Ethan asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  “C’mon,” she grabbed his hand and led him back to her trailer.

  They walked in silence and his anxiety grew. He already had a pretty good idea about what was happening, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He would let Zoe tell him first.

  When they entered the trailer she walked straight to the couch and he followed, “So, Marty Crawford bought this land.”

  Shit. He let her keep talking.

  “And on October first we have to be gone. All of us.”

  “Wait, I thought the owners wouldn’t sell?”

  “Well, they had to sell,” and then Zoe told him the whole story about how the owner had cancer, and how they found a buyer who agreed to keep the trailer park, and how Marty found a way to swindle it away from them. Marty owned the land, and by law, they had until October first to get off of it. That was it, end of story.

  Ethan’s mind was racing, “I’m sure there’s something the owners could do legally.”

  “Mr. Crawford has the best attorneys, and Mrs. Hart said they couldn’t afford a big legal battle. It’s over.”

  “Maybe I could talk to my dad about it,” Ethan was desperate for a solution, “I mean I know he’s a divorce attorney but—.”

  “Ethan!” she shouted, “did you hear what I just said? They need to start concentrating on Mr. Hart’s health. They can’t deal with lawyers right now.”

  He’d never seen that side of her, but he totally understood it. She’d lived in that park her whole life. Zoe and Parker were actually like real family—brother and sister—and he couldn’t imagine how Parker was feeling.

  “I’m sorry,” he didn’t know what else to say.

  She looked at him with the saddest eyes, unlike anything he’d seen before, “No, I’m sorry Ethan, I just…” and then she started crying, head in her hands, really crying.

  He put his arm around her and realized how alone she was. The only “real” relative she had was her mother—her pathetic, teen-wannabe mother.

  “Does your mom know?” he asked cautiously.

  “Screw her,” Zoe wasn’t holding back, “seriously, screw her. I sent her a text, but who knows if she’s even read it. When she comes home tonight, she’ll really hit the bottle.”

  His protective instincts took over, “Hey, you can stay on the boat tonight. I can make up the couch—.”

  “No,” she said quietly, “I’m just gonna stay with Shirley and Parker tonight.”

  “Oh, okay…” he was disappointed but totally got it, “I guess I don’t need to ask how Parker is doing.”

  She stood up, “He’s like you’d expect—not good. I mean, we pay like nothing in rent here, so forget about us being able to find something close to each other. We might not be able to live in Marblehead at all.”

  Jesus…

  She ran her hands through her hair, her eyes wide, “I just never thought I could hate a human being as much as I hate Crawford.”

  The feeling was definitely mutual. Ethan thought he had reached some kind of threshold for hatred with Crawford, but this was a new level, “I know.”

  She began pacing, “And I don’t know what to do about my job—at first I was just going to quit right away, go work at the Outrigger with my mom and suck it up.”

  He liked that idea, even if they wouldn’t see each other as much. At least Marty wouldn’t be able to drool over her all day.

  “But guess what Mrs. Hart told me? Crawford owns the Outrigger too. So I really don’t see him letting me quit one job, and then hiring me somewhere else!”

  She was right. And Ethan heard he owned other things too, like the Lighthouse Condos and the Bayside Hotel. In fact, he probably owned half the fricking peninsula. But it wasn’t enough, he had to have Sunny Shores too…only to tear it down.

  “And I don’t even know if I can get a job anywhere else considering it’s almost Fourth of July! The season is half over!”

  Just then, an overwhelming sense of shame came over him. He didn’t have a summer job—he didn’t need one. He had a bank account where funds were magically deposited by the money fairy.

  Summers were for fun—for boating, and hanging out at the beach during the day, and partying by the campfire at night. Summers were for doing whatever the hell he wanted to do. And that’s the way it had always been, and that was how it was for Emma, and Hunter, and Connor, and all of the other kids at Crystal Waters.

  He watched as she paced back and forth, worried about her job—worried about where she would live. He felt like a bag of shit, and he couldn’t do anything to make it better.

  “Oh,” she stopped for only a second, “and I volunteered to do the Fourth of July party—at Crystal Waters!”

  “You did?” He was going to ask her to the party, as his guest.

  “Heather said we get fifty bucks on top of normal pay, so yeah, I said I would.”

  The Crystal Waters Fourth of July party was a huge deal—no expense was spared. The entire outdoor area was transformed in sparkling red, white and blue. Hundreds of balloons filled the pool, gourmet food filled the tables, and a live band kept people dancing until the fireworks began.

  And because Crystal Waters was just down the road from Memorial Park they had front row seats to the biggest fireworks display on the peninsula.

  And now Zoe would be working at it, instead of getting to enjoy it, “Well I was going to ask you to go with me…”

  “To the party?”

  “Yeah, to the party,” he smiled.

  Then she smiled, with a tear-streaked face, and he just wanted to give her a hug. He stood up and put his hands around her waist pulling her closer, “I’m really sorry about everything that’s happened. I wish I could fix it for you.”

  Zoe looked up at him with her wet eyes. He leaned down and kissed her, and then held her. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and held on to him as if her life depended on it.

  She didn’t deserve this. He would do anything to make all of the bullshit go away…

  “Zoe!!!” A blood-curdling scream came from outside, “What the hell is this?!”

  Zoe pushed away from him so hard, he stumbled backwards. She bolted towards the kitchen, disappearing before his eyes.

  The porch door flew open and a woman barged through, waving her phone in Zoe’s face. She had a mess of red hair tied up in a big bow that looked like something a five-year-old would wear. Her face looked fifty but she dressed like twenty, in a skin-tight tank top and jean shorts that were riding up her ass, “Is this for real?! Is this message for real?!”

  Enter Zoe’s mom, Debbie. Considering everything Zoe had told him, she pretty much lived up to his low expectations. She definitely had the crazy thing down, still yelling at Zoe like it was somehow her fault.

  And Zoe just stood there like she’d been through it a thousand times before—arms crossed, face stoic, holding her own. But while she had no problem just standing there, he did.

  He walked straight up to Debbie and offered his hand, “Hi, I’m Ethan.”

  She immediately stopped her rant and looked him up and down, “And who the hell are you?!” Her eyes were popping out of their sockets.

  Zoe quickly spoke up, “Ethan is a friend of mine.”

  “A friend? Ha!” she pushed past Zoe and went straight for the kitchen cabinet where she pulled out a bottle of vodka. She filled a short glass with the clear liquid and slammed it down.

  Zoe gave Ethan a look of desperation and then began explaining everything to her mom about the Harts and the cancer, and the legal issues—everything. To which Debbie would insert an occasional, “keep going.” She showed zero compassion for the Harts, or for her own daughter.

  By the time Zoe was finished, Debbie had downed an additional glass of vodka. She pounded her fist on the kitch
en table, “Marty Crawford, that mother fucker.”

  Zoe wouldn’t look at Ethan. He could only imagine the shit she must have put up with over the years.

  Then Debbie filled her glass yet again, and held it high in the air, “Well darling daughter, here’s to being royally screwed.”

  At that, Ethan completely lost it. He stepped in front of Debbie, close enough so that she could see the contempt in his eyes, “Well aren’t you Mother-of-the-Year?”

  He didn’t wait around to see her reaction. He grabbed Zoe’s hand and they were out the door.

  CHAPTER 24

  ZOE

  After the way Ethan talked to Debbie, Zoe thought for sure she’d be grounded, or at least have her phone taken away. But instead, her mom had been unusually nice the last two days. Maybe Ethan had actually managed to reach some deep part of Debbie’s brain, where her motherly instincts were hidden away.

  Zoe still had no clue what they were going to do on October first. In classic Debbie fashion, her only idea was, “We’ll figure it out.” Which meant, it probably wouldn’t be figured out—until they were forced out.

  And, money was money, so Zoe swallowed every ounce of pride she had and decided to work the Fourth of July party—and so was Debbie.

  “Hey!” her mom yelled from the bathroom, “You got my powder?”

  “It’s in the basket, top drawer!”

  “Why can’t you just leave everything out on the counter? It’d be so much easier!”

  And messier. “I think I’m just going to head over now!”

  They were supposed to be over at Crystal Waters at four o’clock sharp for a staff meeting. Because it was such a big event, employees from the Outrigger were hired to help out too. Debbie would be bartending at one of the bar stations since she was, according to her own self-evaluation, one of the “best damn bartenders on the peninsula.”

  Zoe looked at her phone, 3:47 pm. “I’m gonna go!”

  “Okay!” Debbie yelled back.

  “Don’t be late!”

  Zoe made her way down to the water, passed the No Trespassing! Sign and headed over to Crystal Waters. She sent Ethan a text on the way:

  Zoe 3:49 pm: Going to work, will lose my phone soon so, hopefully I’ll see you there 

  Ethan 3:49 pm: Oh you’ll see me 

  Zoe 3:50 pm: Remember I’ll be busy

  Ethan 3:50 pm: Got it

  Heather led the employee meeting which was pretty much laying down the rules: no phones, no socializing, no tips (at least on the first attempt), no drinking, no smoking, no unscheduled breaks, no adjustments to uniform (the red sequin bow-tie stays put), and most important of all—no attitude.

  “Nothing but smiles and pleasantries all around,” Heather finished with a mocking smile of her own.

  “Well, Jesus Christ!” It came from the back of the group and Zoe immediately felt her shoulders tighten up. Everyone turned in unison, and there stood Debbie, with her hands on her hips and her eyes rolling, “So, if I need to take a leak, am I allowed to go to the bathroom, or what?”

  Why god, why?

  ***

  Partygoers started strolling in around five and things were humming along for the first few hours. People drank, and ate, and drank some more. And Zoe filled trays, served trays, and filled some more. It seemed like she never got a break, but she wasn’t complaining.

  She was making a lot of money—although she had no idea how much. She shoved bills into her skirt pockets until she couldn’t shove anymore, and then she’d sneak off to her locker and throw them in. The more people drank, the bigger the tips seemed to get—fewer one-dollar bills, and more fives and tens. By the time the night was over, she would be taking home a lot more than a fifty dollar bonus.

  Ethan had kept his distance, as promised. He was sitting at a table with his dad and a woman she would guess was his mom. If his parents weren’t happy, they were good at putting on a show.

  Zoe would look over at him every once in a while, and they’d make eye contact. All he had to do was smile and she’d get a second wind. She couldn’t wait until the fireworks started—most people headed down to the beach, and that’s when she got her break.

  She was filling another tray at the station when Heather came up behind her, “Hey, Crawfish wants to see you.”

  Zoe instantly felt her stomach lurch, “Now? Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” Heather said casually, “He’s over by the champagne fountain…and he’s had a few.”

  “Great, do you know what he wants?” But before Zoe could finish her question, Heather had already taken her tray and left.

  Shit. Zoe had hoped to get through the night without having to lay her eyes on the jerk, let alone having to talk to him. She grabbed an empty tray and made her way to Mr. Crawford—shoulders back and chin up.

  As she got closer, all she could feel was contempt with a strong undercurrent of shame. Shame because she was choosing money over pride. She was working for the enemy—she was working for the fricking devil.

  He waved a glass of champagne in the air as people passed by, “Happy Fourth! Enjoy the party!”

  And then he saw her. His eyes widened and his big shiny teeth came out in full force, “Hello Zoe.”

  She had an overwhelming urge to swing her tray so hard across Marty Crawford’s stupid smiling face, that he’d fall back into his obnoxious champagne fountain and have to pick glass shards out of his ass for weeks. She could only wish…

  “How is the evening going for you, Zoe? I hope the guests are being generous.”

  She nodded, “They are.” He would get nothing more from her than a minimal response.

  His beady eyes looked her up and down, “Well Zoe,” and with that, his hand was on her shoulder.

  She felt herself inadvertently flinch at his touch, and he pulled his hand back, “I’m sorry… I thought we were friends.”

  She hated the way she felt. She hated how unfair the world was. She hated that she stood there like a timid little girl. She hated that she didn’t have the guts to tell him to ‘fuck off,’ and leave. “I’m just pretty busy right now.”

  “Well,” he laughed, and she got a nauseating whiff of his ripe breath, “I’m the boss, so I think it’s okay that you take a well-deserved break!”

  Just leave Zoe, just turn and leave…

  He began walking away from the fountain, slowly, and she had no choice but to follow.

  “I just wanted to say, that whole unfortunate situation with Sunny Shores, well, it’s really just business, it’s nothing personal…”

  He did not just say that. He wanted to upset her…he was trying to upset her.

  “And truth be told, the Harts really should’ve seen it coming. Maybe you could’ve had more time to…”

  Did he just try to blame the Harts?

  He was talking, but it was fading into background noise. Her head was feeling cloudy, her ears were ringing.

  Where were they going? They were well outside the party now.

  Then she felt his hand on her back, “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’d be willing to help you out…and make some phone calls if…”

  He’d be willing to help her out?

  For the first time in her life, she was pretty sure she was having an out-of-body experience because things suddenly became very surreal.

  Like two characters in a play, up on a stage, she saw herself standing across from Mr. Crawford. She noticed how much the white-haired man towered over the petite girl with the high ponytail.

  The girl began yelling at him, her face red and stained with tears. She poked her finger into his chest and screamed, “How dare you!... You ruthless piece of shit!... You…” And Mr. Crawford reached for the girl, trying to quiet her, but the girl wouldn’t stop.

  And then she saw another character in the play—Mrs. Crawford, running into the scene to try to calm the girl. But the girl was beyond help. She tore away from them and ran, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Crawford alone on stag
e.

  CHAPTER 25

  ETHAN

  The only reason Ethan sat with his parents was because he didn’t really have any other options. No one his age would be caught dead at the Fourth of July party. Emma and her friends were out on Connor’s boat having their own party, watching the fireworks from the water. That’s what he would’ve done last year.

  “So Ethan, when do I get to meet your friend?” Mom asked out of the blue.

  He shrugged, “When she’s not busy I guess.” Dad had obviously told her about Zoe.

  Mom had been trying so hard—it was sad, really. She and Dad were all smiles, doing their best imitation of a happily married couple. How stupid did they think he was?

  Yesterday, he went to another session in Cleveland with Dr. Malone. The standard routine, like on auto-pilot. Drop off in front, go up the elevator, check-in with Nancy, wait in the waiting room, get called into the office, sit in the chair, remove his baseball hat.

  “How have you been feeling?”

  “Okay.”

  “How has the anxiety been?”

  “Okay.”

  And on it went…and Dr. Malone seemed pleased.

  But after Ethan left, something different happened.

  Ethan was at the elevator when he realized he had forgotten his hat. If it was any other hat, he would’ve left it, but it was his 2016 Cleveland Indians World Series hat. And although the Tribe had lost in historically bad fashion, it was still his favorite.

  So he walked back to the office, through the waiting room, and past the glass window where Nancy fake-talked and ignored him. And just as he was about to knock on Dr. Malone’s door—his knuckles barely grazing the wood—he heard it.

  “Ethan has made a dramatic improvement. I’m telling you, it’s truly amazing.”

  Pause.

  “I know, but I assure you Beth, he is on the right track.”

  Beth?

  “Okay, so are we still on for dinner next Friday?”

  What the?

  “I can’t wait to see you…love you too…bye.”

  Fuck.