Still Waters (3 page)

Crew

Jake opens the passenger door of my Jeep and
climbs into the seat next to me.

“Ready
to go?” he asks as he pulls the seatbelt across his body and clicks it into the
lock. I don’t answer him for a second and I guess he notices that something is
wrong because he stops fiddling with the radio and looks at me. He’s expecting
me to say something, but I’m so damn tired and the last thing I feel like doing
is talking about it. I just want to get this over and done with.

“Hey
man, are you ok?” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “If this is too hard
for you, we can go another time. It’s cool.”

I
rest my head back and close my eyes. The words I want to say are right on the
tip of my tongue. I can feel them dancing there, daring me to say them. But
instead I sigh and say, “I want to go. I’m just tired. Long flight.” I open an
eye and see him nod in understanding.

“Seriously
dude, we don’t have to do this every time you come into town, if you’re not up
to it then we can just..”

I
can’t take it anymore. Why does he have to be so understanding all the time?
Isn’t he angry? Because I can’t seem to help being pissed off. I slam my fist
against the steering wheel and turn to him.

“I
said I wanted to go. So can we just stop talking about it and drive over there
already?”

I
feel bad even before the last word leaves my mouth.

“Whatever
man,” he says and looks out the window. He’s acting pissed, which is what he
does to cover up when he’s feeling hurt.

“Jake,”
I say, “I’m sorry, man. Shit. I’m really tired, and a bit hung-over. I
shouldn’t have done that.”

He
looks at me and nods once, and I know that me acting like an asshole has
already been forgotten. That’s the thing about Jake O’Reilly; once he calls you
his friend he’ll forgive you anything. I turn the key and the Jeep roars to
life.

“Man,
isn’t it time you upgraded or something? You’ve had this thing since high
school, and it was a piece of crap even then.”

I
look over at him and grin. There’s no way I’m getting rid of my Jeep, and he
knows it. The rain is really coming down now, so I flick on my wipers and
slowly make my way out of the car park.

“Your
dad meeting us there?” I ask as we pull out onto the road. There’s a girl up
ahead running through the puddles in a huge blue raincoat. I wonder if it’s the
girl from The Sea Shack, but she has the hood up so I can’t see her face.

“He’s
not coming this time bro,” Jake says. I look over at him and raise my eyebrows.
Jake’s dad always comes with us.

“He’s
visiting Mom in the hospital. She’s starting a new treatment tonight.”

“I’m
sorry man,” I say, feeling like shit, because I’ve been sitting in the car for
ten minutes now, and I haven’t asked about his mom once. He shrugs and starts
fiddling with the radio again. We drive the rest of the way in silence and when
we get there, it’s still raining too hard to get out. I park the car in the
same space I always use and kill the engine.

“It’s
too wet,” Jake says, scratching his knee through his jeans. “At least we came.
That’s what counts, I guess.”

I
look out through the windscreen and the driving rain to the trees on the other
side of the clearing.

“Fuck
it.”

I
swing open my door and climb out, not even bothering to run through it. I’m
going to end up wet anyway. It’s only a short walk. Jake chose this spot
because it has a view of the ocean, and when she was alive there was no other
place she’d rather be.

“Hey,”
Jake says as he comes up next to me. He bends down and wipes an old leaf off
the gravestone with his hand. “Crazy to think she would have been 26 next
month.”

“She
loved her birthday,” I whisper, but I’m not sure he hears me because the rain
is coming down like bullets.

“She
hated sharing it, though,” he laughs. “When we were kids she always made Mom
bake two birthday cakes. She said that just because she had a stinky twin
brother it didn’t mean she shouldn’t have her own cake with pink frosting.”

I
smile sadly and shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

“Eight
years is a long time man,” he says, looking at me. I know what he’s trying to
say, but I don’t want to hear it. I turn around and start walking back to the
Jeep.

“Crew!”
Jake shouts through the rain. “Crew! Aren’t you going to visit him too?”

I
pretend I don’t hear him and pick up my pace until I’m back at the Jeep,
fumbling in my pocket for the keys. When I get inside my whole body starts to
shake. My teeth are rattling in my head, and my fingers are trembling too hard
for me to get the key in the ignition. I sit on my hands and tell myself it’s just
the cold. Jake opens the car door a second later and jumps into his seat. We
sit in silence for a few moments, me because I don’t want to talk about her and
him because he’s giving me a chance to calm down before we drive. When my heart
slows to normal and the feeling returns to my fingers, I slide the key into the
ignition and start up the engine. Jake waits until we’re out of the car park
before saying, “She would want you to move on you know.”

There’s
really nothing I can say to that because as much as I hate it, deep down I know
he’s right.

Hartley

After breakfast the following morning I’m
looking around my small kitchen to the picture window and the piles of shopping
bags and boxes on the floor. I didn’t have time to pack anything before I left
so I’ve been shopping like crazy since I arrived. The problem is, I’ve been
avoiding unpacking any of it, so now it looks like I’m holding a yard sale in
my kitchen. I resolve to deal with it, right after a bath.

I
haven’t told Eleanor, but the bath is the main reason I chose this house. It’s
an old claw foot number painted flamingo pink, and I absolutely love it. This
is the kind of bath I’d love to put in my house in Jefferson; only I know
exactly what David’s face would look like if I suggested it. Even Eleanor
doesn’t understand why I’d want to live in a run down sea cottage like this
one. She’s always saying that if she had my money she’d want a house with
marble floors and solid gold tap ware. I don't tell her, but that's just the
type of thing someone without money would say.

I
run a deep bubble bath and step in, sighing in pleasure at feeling warm all the
way through for the first time in days. I’m content for maybe, four or five
seconds before my mind starts ticking again. I’m thinking about the data I
haven’t finished analyzing at the lab and the hair appointment I forgot to
cancel, and the fact that I didn’t even call my mother to tell her I was
leaving. Then I think about my sister Marta and all of the wedding related
appointments I’ve missed and then I can see my dad’s face in my mind, the way
he looked in the boardroom the last time I saw him. Suddenly the bath is too
hot, and I feel like I’m suffocating. I sit up too quickly, my heart racing in
my chest and my head swimming. I can’t do this. I’m going crazy sitting here. I
decide to go for a walk.

The
rain has stopped and the wind blowing the hair off my face is no more than a gentle
reminder of the storm that hit the coast the day before. There’s even a little
bit of sunlight pushing through the clouds. I’ve changed into a pair of jeans
and a vintage navy and white striped t-shirt that I stole from my mom’s closet.
I turn left at my gate, towards the ocean, and try to keep my mind calm and
empty as I walk down the road. I reach the sand in minutes and decide to kick
off my shoes. I leave them on a fence post, hesitating for a second because,
well, they’re Chanel. I shrug and put them down anyway. I climb over the dunes
and look down the beach. There are a couple of surfers braving the massive
waves that climb over my head before crashing on the shore, but other than
them, I’m alone. I wonder briefly if Crew is one of the guys out in the water
and then quickly dismiss the thought. I’m not going to allow myself to think
about that guy. Hopefully, he gets back on whatever plane he arrived on and
leaves before I have to see him again.

I
start down the beach, picking up shells along the way to line up along my
bathroom windowsills. The sea is so loud and immediate; it drowns out any
thoughts my brain tries to conjure up and I’m thankful. For the first time
since I left Jefferson, I have some peace. I’m enjoying the smell of the ocean
and the feel of the sand on my feet when I look up and scan my eyes down the
beach. A couple of guys are running next to each other towards me. They look
serious about it. They’re running hard. Neither one is talking or joking
around. When they see me, the taller one slows a little and says something to
the other guy. I can’t make out any detail in their faces because I forgot to
put my glasses on, but I can see that they’re not wearing any shirts and that
they’re both sweaty and packed with muscle. The shorter one looks lean and fit,
but the taller guy is huge. His shoulders and arms pump back and forth as he
runs in strong, powerful strides. I blush a little and look out towards the sea
to cool my face. I may be short sighted, but I never said I was
blind.

When
I look back, the lean looking guy has turned around and is jogging back up the
beach. The tall one has slowed to a walk and is coming right towards me. I look
behind me to see if there’s someone else he might be walking to, but there’s no
one there. Then he reaches a big hand up and pushes the dark hair off his face,
and I realize, far too late, that I know him. And there’s absolutely nowhere
for me to hide.

Crew

 
“Race you to The Point and back,” Jake yells
through the glass window next to my front door. I sit up with my head pounding
and my mouth feeling like the bottom of a birdcage. Damn jet lag. I must have
passed out on the sofa after I got back to my place, and I’ve slept for at
least 14 hours. I get up to open the door, but Jake is already gone. Bastard is
trying to get a head start. Despite the headache, I still manage a smile as I
throw on a pair of shorts and my runners and pull the door closed behind me. Seeing
Jake almost makes the trip back to Twin Heads worth it. Almost.

By
the time I make it across my lawn, Jake is already over the dunes and halfway
to the shoreline. It’s not hard to catch him up. He may have appealed to my
competitive streak by saying he’d race me, but I know he’s deliberately taking
his time so that we can run together. We fall into a steady rhythm that’s
become second nature after years of training together. We don’t talk when we
run, which is just how I like it. I speed up a little, pushing myself, and next
to me Jake matches my stride. Down the beach, I see a girl in tight jeans and a
striped t-shirt bending down to look at something in the water. A second later
she reaches down and digs in the sand a little before bringing a shell up to
her face. I’m still a good distance away, but I can see her smile from here.
It’s one of those smiles that starts at her mouth and transforms her whole
face. We get a little closer and the girl turns around and looks down the
beach, to The Point. A strand of dark curly hair escapes her ponytail and
dances around her head in the wind. Shit. I slow my pace and yell over at Jake.
He grins like a lunatic then turns around and runs back up the beach.

I
slow to a walk and try to catch my breath. Either I was running harder than I
thought I was, or I’m more jetlagged than usual. Hartley glances at me and her
eyes widen a little. She turns around and looks over her shoulder like she
expects me to be looking for someone else. It’s both the sweetest and saddest
gesture, and it makes me want to kiss her, just so she knows that I’m only
looking for her. This girl really has no idea how beautiful she is.

“Hi,”
I say when I’m close enough for her to hear me over the ocean.

She
doesn’t say anything, and her face is hard and expressionless. Ok. I deserve
that.

“We
met at The Sea Shack yesterday?” I say, like some kind of idiot. She rolls her
eyes slightly and crosses her arms across her chest.

“Listen,
I’m sorry about the way I acted,” I try again. “I just flew in, and I hadn’t
slept for two days, and I guess I was acting like a bit of an asshole because I
had to do something that I didn’t want to do.”

She
raises her eyebrows at that, and her face softens a little.

“What
did you have to do?” she asks. Her voice is soft and husky, but it still has a
bit of an edge to it.

I
look out to the waves and take a breath. If I tell her where I was yesterday,
it’s only going to invite questions that I’m in no mood to answer. I look back
at her and try on one of my many fake smiles.

“Oh
you know, just some errands. Boring stuff.”

She
knows I’m lying. She looks at me for a moment, deciding whether to call me on
it, then sighs and turns to leave.

“Hey!”
I call out to stop her from going. “We didn’t really get introduced properly
earlier. I’m Crew Sullivan.” I hold out a hand, and she looks at it for a
second, narrowing her eyes. Finally, she steps forward and puts her hand into
mine. It should be cold from digging around in the wet sand, but somehow all I
can feel is fire.

“I’m
Hartley,” she says, looking up into my face. She looks away for a second,
biting her lip and then returns to meet my eyes. “Hartley Jones.”

“Nice
to meet you, Hartley Jones,” I say, smiling for real this time.

She
looks down and shakes my hand.