The Cove (30 page)

At least his years in the military had cured Ben of his youthful sloppiness.

But not Pete.

Like when they were kids, his side of the room was a jumble of dirty clothes, CD’s — mostly Heavy Metal groups like
AC/DC
and
Metallica
— “stroke” magazines, dirty plates and glasses, beer bottles, crumpled food wrappers, and an unmade bed. The sheets and blanket were knotted together and hanging off the edge of the bed onto the floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d changed the bedding, but what did it matter? Dirty sheets didn’t bother him, and with Ben in the room now, it wasn’t like he’d be getting any pussy up here for a while.

Pete kicked off his boots, banging them against the wall, and flopped down onto his bed. He sighed as he flung his arm across his face and covered his eyes.

“I can’t get away from you, can I, you son-of-a-bitch,” he whispered to the empty room. “No matter what I do, I’m always gonna be your goddamned little brother.”

Squeezing his eyes shut so tightly faint explosions of light streaked across his vision, he started to ruminate on his all too familiar list of resentments.

When they were kids growing up, Ben had
always
gotten the first and the best. His parents made a show and talked a good game about being fair, but in everything, Pete felt as though he’d been cheated.

And even if his folks had been fair, there was always school. Every goddamned one of his teachers from grammar school through high school had reacted to his low-level work the same way … by shaking their heads and saying, “
Well, Peter, you certainly aren’t half the scholar your brother is, now, are you?”

Ben was “The Man” … Gunner … high school basketball and track star … good, not great, student … lady’s man … Boy Scout … and one of the most popular kids in school and around town … Good old ball-
bustin
’ Ben, who all through high school spent most of his time getting stoned or trying to feel up as many cheerleaders as he could in the woods out behind Moulton’s Store or underneath the grandstand. All things considered, Ben was lucky he hadn’t knocked up at least half a dozen girls before graduation. Meanwhile, the best Pete could ever do was play second string on the football team, struggle along academically, and do the best he could with girls. His only good grades were in shop and metalworking, and he didn’t have anywhere near as many friends as Ben did. While he did all right with the girls, he had hooked up with Mona in his sophomore year and stayed with her all through high school and beyond — until about two weeks ago, when even she got tired of him. Mona was pretty enough, if you liked redheaded, corn-fed girls, but —
goddamnit
!
— he was sick and fucking tired of living in Ben’s shadow.

It was the little things that irked him the most … things like when Ben got that goddamned high school class ring. Mom had said she bought it for him with money she’d scrimped and saved, but what that meant was she swiped money from Pops’ wallet when he was sleeping off another bender. For some reason — pure spite, no doubt — Ben thought it was great fun to walk up behind Pete and crack him a good one on the back of the head with the heavy stone of that ring. It got to the point where Pete instinctively flinched whenever Ben came anywhere near him, which only made Ben laugh the harder.

Ben ended up losing the ring a month or so after graduation, or so he thought. He never knew that Pete had stolen it and taken it out on their father’s lobster boat one day and dropped it over the side out past
Hatlen’s
Point. He laughed whenever he wondered if a fish might eat it, and someone would eventually catch the fish, cut it open, and find the ring. He’d heard about something like that happening a few years ago but always wondered if the stories were true.

Of course, a few years later, when it was Pete’s turn to get a class ring, which he had been looking forward to, his Mom didn’t buy him one because, she said, she had paid damned good money for Ben’s ring, and look how irresponsible he had been, losing it like that. Pete was sure this was what Mrs. Miller, one of his English teachers, would have called “dramatic irony.” Instead, his Mom told him she would help him buy a car when he graduated; but before long, she started getting dementia, and soon enough she forgot all about that promise.
More dramatic irony
, Pete thought, because he got her car after she was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s and sent off to the old folks’ home.

But that was another thing that bugged the ever-loving shit out of Pete. Ben had lived at home for a year or so after high school, going to college at Central Maine Community College and helping out — minimally — on the lobster boat. He was dating Kathy Brackett and looking like he was going to settle down into his rut like everyone else in The Cove.

And then Ben went and changed the goddamned rules, which galled Pete something fierce.

Ben joined the Army and then got stop-
lossed
when his terms of enlistment expired. He came home on leave between tours of duty. When he did, he stayed with Kathy as much if not more than he stayed at home. Pete was pissed that his brother had gotten out of the Cove, even if it was only temporarily, and then he and Kathy started talking about moving away once he got out … until, that is, they had a major falling out before Ben went back for his last stint in Iraq.

But with or without a woman like Kathy, Pete was stuck here with his Mom and Pops. Louise tried to help some, but she was all goo-goo over that douche bag Tommy Marshall. Then they had to get married in a big fucking hurry when she got knocked up. So good old Pete — like the son in that Bible story the Prodigal Son — was the one left holding the bag, helping the old man run the family business and — eventually — slated to take it over, no questions asked. And Pete was left watching his mother deteriorate before his eyes, his father too self-involved and unloving even to visit her more than once or twice a week.

It wasn’t like anyone ever asked
me
what
I
wanted to do
, Pete thought, rolling his head from side to side and seething with anger. He started grinding his teeth so loud the sound filled his head like he was munching popcorn.

That’s
what caused him the most resentment.

Everyone — family and friends and neighbors alike — naturally assumed he wanted nothing more in life than to be a lobsterman like his goddamned father, like
Capt’n
Wally was any kind of role model.

But had anyone — had one single person ever asked him if he wanted to spend the rest of his life as a Cove-ah, fucking around with lobster boats and fish guts and bloodworms and drunken fools like the men down at The Local or any other of that shit?

Then Julia Meadows came to town.

Now
there
was a woman. Beautiful, classy — the fact that she wasn’t a Cove-ah was one of her biggest attractions to Pete. He had spent months watching her, thinking about her, fantasizing about her. Even when she took up with his brother-in-law Tom, it didn’t faze him. He knew how those things worked in the Cove. It wouldn’t last. What he needed was a way to figure out how to catch her eye.

And then Ben came home a
Christless
war hero with an honorable discharge and a fucking medal. Everyone started acting like he was goddamned Superman. All the guys, including Pete’s best friends, wanted to buy his brother drinks. Even worse, as far as Pete could tell, plenty of women around town — married and not married — wanted to fuck him silly. If he wanted to, he could get more ass than a toilet seat. And who did Ben pick?

Julia Meadows, of course.

Pete raised his arm from his eyes, rotated his head slowly, and glared over at Ben’s empty bed. He hissed through gritted teeth and, raising his hand, pointed his forefinger with his thumb up like his hand was a gun.

“
Pow!
” he said, smiling as he snapped his thumb down like the hammer of a gun. A smile spread across his face, tightening the skin.

He tensed when he heard someone moving around downstairs. Not wanting to face anyone — his father, his sister, and especially his brother — he slid off his bed, tiptoed over to the door, switched off the light, and lay back down on bed, pretending to be asleep.

O
vernight, rain moved in, and it was still pouring hard by morning. After spending the night at his house, Wally had to give
Shantelle
a ride home. He dropped her off at her place and drove down to the harbor. Even if the sea was too rough for him to go out and haul traps, he could spend the day working around on the boat and knocking back shots of rum. Maybe he’d even figure out what was wrong with the electronics. Tonight, he and all his cronies would gather at The Local and spend a considerable amount of time bitching about how many traps they lost in the storm.

Before he got out of bed, Ben thought he heard a high-pitched giggle or two coming through the wall from his parents’ bedroom, but he wasn’t about to check out what was going on. He assumed Bunny was with his dad again, and he didn’t want to see her again, so he waited until they left. Once the house was quiet, he got out of bed, took a quick shower, and went out into the hallway.

He tiptoed to Louise’s bedroom and, opening the door quietly, peeked in on her. He had moved his stuff out last night, but she was sleeping in the sheets he’d been using. They hadn’t had time to launder them.

He watched her sleeping for a moment or two, her left arm across her face, covering her eyes. Once again, he was struck by how much she resembled their mother. He felt a sudden, deep longing for the good old days when he was a kid, growing up here. He knew, of course, there was no such thing as the “good old days.” In fact, some of them had been downright horrible. Still, his memories of growing up in this house had acquired a golden luster. Maybe surviving in a war zone for four years had something to do with it. That suddenly reminded him of last night at Julia’s house when the strange, frightening feeling of —

Of what?

He wasn’t even sure.

Was it rage? … Terror? … Panic?

Something had swept over him like a sudden squall.

Whatever it was, he sure as hell didn’t want to think about it now.

Louise stirred and then opened her eyes with a start. Sitting up in bed, she looked around not quite remembering where she was until she saw Ben in the doorway. She yawned and smiled.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“
S’okay
.” She stifled a yawn behind her hand. “I should get up, anyway.”

“It’s a shitty day. You might’s well sleep in.” Ben indicated the bedroom window with a flick of his head. Windblown streams of rainwater trickled down the panes in squiggling, quicksilver lines.

“You can say that again.” Louise sighed. “What was all that commotion last night?” She shifted her legs around so she was sitting on the edge of the bed, but she made no move to get up.

“I think the old man had some —
ahh
, company last night.”

Louise lowered her gaze and, biting her lower lip, shook her head sadly.

“He is such a pig,” she said as much to herself as to Ben. Then she looked up at her older brother and added, “It’s not right. It’s not like Mom’s dead or something.”

Ben shrugged and said, “Never stopped him before, did it?”

“I guess not.” There was resignation in her voice. “Want me to get breakfast for yah?”

“How ’bout I cook for you for a change?”

Ben turned and left her, going downstairs to the kitchen where he set to work.

“Pete up yet?” Louise called out from upstairs.

“Nah,” Ben replied. The mere mention of his brother’s name reminded him of their squabble last night, and he felt guilty about it. Maybe getting so pissed at Pete is what made him have that freak-out at Julia’s.

The view out the kitchen window was amazing, especially for someone who had spent the last two years in a desert. Fast-moving clouds looking like ink-stained quilted cotton scuttled across the sky, blowing out to sea. Rain lashed against the house, hissing on the windows. It was heavy enough to obscure Ben’s view, but close to shore, white-capped breakers were slamming against the rocky shore, sending towering plumes of water into the sky to be blown back into the ocean in a white spray.

As he set to work, scrambling eggs, frying bacon, making toast, and — most importantly — getting the coffee brewing, he wondered if his father was already down at the boat. He figured only an idiot would go out to sea on a day like this. The smell of breakfast cooking filled him with contentment, and he felt cozy and warm in the cocoon of light in the kitchen. He turned and looked at the kitchen doorway when he heard Louise’s footsteps on the stairs.

“I changed my mind,” she said.

“’Bout what?”

“About you coming out to the house with me so I can get some of my things. Will you?”

Her question was almost lost beneath the sound of sizzling bacon as Ben flipped it over, but he looked at her and nodded earnestly.

“Bet your ass I will,” he said.

“Maybe we can stop by ’n see Mom, too.”

“Yeah … Maybe,” he said. He had enough to think about without trying to deal with his mother’s situation. Between the cracks widening in his psyche, the fraught possibility of a confrontation with Tom, and Pete getting weirder and weirder lately, the last goddamned thing he needed was to see the shell of a person his mother had become. After last night, he didn’t need that kind of stress on top of everything else.