I can’t delay anymore, Daisy’s imposed deadline beating over my head. Seven years is a long time, but it’s enough to know I need to take her words seriously. To know that she wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t show up. So here I am, white knuckling my seat as the tiny prop plane makes its way over to Falmouth. I stare out the small pane of glass, watching the world pass below.
I don’t bother looking at the other passengers.
There would’ve been a time where I would have. Where, by the end of the flight, I would have come up with a million different stories for all of them. It’s a strange thing that I don’t do that anymore.
‘Do you have family in Falmouth?’ a kind, warm voice asks from next to me. I inwardly sigh and glance over, because one of my pet peeves in life is chatty seatmates. My annoyance immediately softens though, when I see the sweet white haired woman who’d smiled at me as she sat down an hour earlier. There’s a twinkle in her eye, and golden wrinkles etched on her face, ones I get the feeling she’s proud of, because it tells of a life well lived.
‘Thatcher’s Bay, actually,’ I answer quietly, and she tips her head to study me in a way that feels far too personal from a stranger.
‘Did you grow up there? That’s where I met my husband, Johnny. I went there to nanny for the summer, and on a night off, I walked into a dancing hall, and there he was.’ Her eyes took on a dreamy look, and I’m jealous of her. Because I haven’t had a dreamy look like that for quite some time.
‘I went to high school there,’ I say, deciding not to comment on the story she’s just told. I don’t want to hear about a Thatcher’s Bay love story.
Not when my own ended with tragedy.
‘When was the last time you went back?’ she asks, and I tense in my seat.
‘Seven years,’ I finally murmur in a choked voice.
Her eyes widen imperceptibly and she keeps studying me. ‘Thatcher’s Bay has a way of dragging you back, doesn’t it? Kind of like there’s magic in its sand.’
More like misery is what I want to say. But instead, I just give her a polite smile. ‘Something like that.’
She mercifully stops talking to me until the plane is touching down at the tiny airport. The wheels roll on the tarmac, finally coming to a stop. In the distance I can see the gleaming ocean, a siren call that I dread with everything in me.
The plane door opens and I click off my seatbelt, preparing to leave. She pats my hand before I can stand up.
‘The trick to Thatcher’s Bay is that you have to let the magic in, dear girl,’ she says with a gentle smile, before withdrawing her hand and standing up.
I shake my head at her words, knowing very well that you can think some things magic until it bites you in the throat.
Although I struggle with all travel, there’s nothing quite like being on the water. That fear I’d had since I was a little girl… It had never gone away. Even now, just waiting at the dock, while the waves lick at the shore, I want to run in the opposite direction. It’s really too bad that the only way to get to Thatcher’s Bay is by boat. Just another reason in my never to return column.
We load onto the ferry and I normally would huddle in the inner cabin of the boat. But today, there’s too much anxiety biting at my heels. If I don’t get some fresh air, I’ll end up puking everywhere…or passing out. The anxiety rises up inside me like fresh bile, and I curse its existence. I keep thinking that one day I’ll wake up and not hate the water, but apparently almost drowning as a little girl leaves an indelible mark.
It’s a crazy thing, the effect our childhood has on our lives. Just a brief few years can stretch through an entire lifetime.
It’s ridiculously unfair if you think about it.
That a moment in time can change everything.
But I guess I know all about that.
The wind whips my hair into my face and I brush it back, taking big inhales of the salty air as the ferry takes off across the water.
Seven years.
Seven years of making excuses.
Seven years of not answering phone calls.
I’d been to Falmouth to spend some holidays with my dad. And Daisy and Mom and Curt had managed to pop in for visits whenever I was there, visiting Boston a few times as well.
But not once had I set one foot back home.
Home.
I hate that word now. I hate that it somehow still belonged to a tiny island instead of the places I’d chosen to live all these years.
I just hope like a fool that this trip will cure me, and I can finally move on.
The water is a stormy gray color, the day dreary. It seems fitting. You shouldn’t have to hate a sunny, perfect day. I already had plenty of those to hate in my memories. Blissful, seemingly perfect days, with clear skies that stretched on forever.
I slump over the railing, forgetting for a moment how much I hate the water. How was it that seven years later, the memories could haunt me as if they happened yesterday? And not just the bad ones…The ones that really got to me, that kept me awake at night…were the perfect days. The ones that I’d never wanted to end. The ones I’d never been able to replicate with anyone else no matter how hard I tried.
Last night I’d imagined Gael, tangled in the sheets with another woman.
And it had stung.
But it hadn’t wrecked me, not like it did every time I allowed myself to think of that night with Noah. Or to think of any nights since then.
Fuck.
I want to scream at the sky, at the water, at everything.
And my mood doesn’t get any better as the island rises out of the mist, like a glorious specter.
My knees threaten to buckle, but somehow, I manage to stay upright, clinging to the railing as the island gets closer and closer.
And suddenly, I’m here. Thatcher’s Bay.
It feels…anticlimactic. Nothing catastrophic happens. I’m still the same person as I was across the Bay.
Noah hasn’t leapt out from behind from the dock…everything is as it was.
The dock is weathered just like it was seven years ago, like it’s been caught in time and it’s no better and no worse than it was before. There’s still the same moss clinging to the rocks along the shore, the same salty, musty smell in the air. Up ahead is the town and it too looks like it’s been preserved in time.
Seven years feels like forever in my mind, but staring around, it’s like it’s been nothing more than a day.
‘Sky!’ I hear Daisy scream, and I glance down the dock where she’s literally sprinting towards where I’m getting off the ferry. I brace myself as she gets to me, throwing her arms around me so tightly it feels like she’s not just hugging my body, but my very soul.
I inhale, breathing in her familiar scent and it’s just another way that it feels like no time has passed.
I may have seen Daisy over the years, but it hasn’t been often. We used to know everything about each other, see each other every day, and now half a year goes by between visits. We try and talk as much as we can, but if I’m honest with myself, I’d admit that I purposely have avoided her calls. Because hearing her talk about her life means I have to think about the life I’ve lost.
And I spend enough time thinking about that as it is.
I’m losing the ability to breathe, and I make a fake choking sound so she loosens her grip. Her eyes are teary, her blonde hair hanging down in waves. She’s more polished now, refined. I guess years of being a millionaire’s girlfriend will do that to you. I can still see it in her eyes though, those sparks of life that Daisy’s always had. The kind that I’ve never possessed. My sister has just grown more beautiful with time and my insides ache as we stare at each other…because I’ve missed her so fucking much. I’ve missed out on so much time with her by avoiding this place all these years.
I make another vow to myself not to waste any more time, and I promise myself I’ll make the most of the next three months with her.
‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she cries in an emotion filled voice, shocking me when she throws her arms around me again and buries her face in my neck, her whole body racking with sobs. There weren’t that many people on the ferry, but there were enough that they give us looks as they pass. As usual, Daisy could care less. She’s always possessed that confidence, that ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude about anyone else’s opinion.
After all these years, she’s still my hero, she’s still who I want to somehow be if I ever can come into myself.
It’s a losing battle, but that’s okay.
‘I’m so glad to see you too,’ I murmur, feeling the exquisite thread of affection burning through my insides.
This is home.
Daisy.
Maybe this visit won’t be so bad after all.
Eventually, she loops her arm through mine as we wander down the dock to the parking lot.
‘Not much has changed,’ I comment, and she nods and stares around at everything fondly.
It’s still a strange thing, to see what love has done for my sister. She was the first person I would’ve thought would leave here out of anyone that I knew. I saw her exploring the whole world, lovers in every city, living the life of a wanderer. But instead, she’s been with Derrick, and I’ve never heard her complain about that, or want anything else. She seems completely at peace with her life, and I wonder if she’s ever touched by regrets.
I think if that night had never happened though, and I’d given up Dartmouth to stay here, I don’t think I would’ve had any regrets either, not if life had continued with Noah how I thought it would.
The melancholy is so sharp in my gut that I wince and she gives me a concerned look.
I plaster a fake smile on my face and she examines me.
‘My sister’s the most beautiful girl in the world,’ she says. I roll my eyes, because that title has always belonged to her.
After all these years, I’m finally okay with that. Daisy’s not the shadow I’m living under anymore. She’s the sun that I haven’t let myself bask in. And it’s taken all these years to finally realize that.
Daisy chatters about the wedding, telling me what colors she’s thinking about, which wedding planner she likes, and the dress appointment we have coming up. It all sounds dreadfully boring — and un-Daisy like — but I smile and nod, acting like I’m just as excited as she is.
‘When is Gael coming?’ she finally asks as she pulls out of the parking lot in her sparkling, fancy sports car that Derrick gave her as a Christmas present last year.
My insides clench and I stare determinedly out the window. I’m not sure why I’d hoped I’d have a couple more minutes to avoid that question. Gael and I have been dating for a long time, so of course she was going to ask.
‘I’m not sure,’ I say vaguely. And it’s the truth. He certainly isn’t spending the summer out here. I assume he’ll fly in for the wedding festivities and then leave again.
‘Is everything okay with you guys?’ Daisy asks carefully.
I bite down on my lip, surveying the familiarity of the town, my gaze not hovering on anything for too long, just in case I get a glimpse…a glimpse of him.
‘We’re on a break,’ I finally whisper.
There’s a moment of heavy silence. And because she’s Daisy, she presses forward.
‘What happened? I thought you guys were talking about moving in with each other?’
I chuckle to myself, even though nothing about the situation is funny.
‘That’s kind of why we’re on a break. Because I can’t commit. I can’t say I love you. I can’t move in with him. I just…can’t.’
I’m shocked at myself for being so honest, but then again, Daisy’s always possessed a special talent for getting words out of me. The words that I can’t give anyone else. Heck, if she asked the right questions, maybe I could actually write my own damn book.
‘Do you love him?’ she questions.
‘No,’ it’s an easy answer that slips from my tongue. Maybe not the whole answer, but the answer nonetheless. I love him for him. I love him as a friend, and I respect him as a man and a person. But when I compare it to the love I felt in the past, it doesn’t even come close.
It’s strange to think I’ve been in mourning all these years. I stare out the window at the town that hasn’t changed, wondering how it is that it could be completely untouched by my heartache. The moments that have inscribed themselves into my soul, rewritten my whole life, and every action that’s happened…there’s no sign of it.
I watch people smile and laugh on the sidewalk of the small town, and I want to yell at them. Scream. Ask them how dare they laugh? Don’t they know that this is where my life was ruined?
Fuck. I should’ve gotten that therapist after all.
‘Well, fuck him,’ Daisy suddenly growls. I startle and glance over at her, because I was caught in my own little world.
‘I think I’m the bad guy in this situation…’ I remark.
She shakes her head emphatically and slaps the steering wheel. ‘A man should wait forever for you, Sky. There’s no one else like you. He’ll regret that forever,’ she says emphatically.
I grin at her fondly. She’s always able to see the best in me. Even when I can’t see it in myself.
Once again, guilt floods my chest, thinking of all I’ve missed out on with her all these years.
Today is a new day though, I tell myself.
I can be better.
Daisy turns left and I frown, staring at the road we should have taken. ‘Um, isn’t this the wrong way?’ I ask, motioning in the direction of where the bed and breakfast I booked is located.
Daisy shakes her head. ‘Mom may have canceled your reservation…’ she says in a guilty voice.
My eyes widen, sudden anxiety spiking through my veins once again. ‘May have? Or she did…’
Every drop of blood inside me is waiting for her response.
‘So she did cancel the reservation. We both want you to stay at the house!’ She sees the panic all over my face though and grabs my hand. ‘But you don’t have to worry…Noah doesn’t live there anymore.’
My anxiety dissipates a little bit with that statement, and I steadfastly ignore the disappointment floating in my insides too.
‘Oh?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.
She shoots me a look as she turns down our street, like I’m not fooling her at all.
‘Yeah, he lives above the garage now.’
Before I can say anything, we’re pulling up the driveway of the house, and I catch a glimpse of a black helmet being pulled down, tips of long blond hair peeking out from under it.
He guns the bike and backs out, racing past us. I duck down in the car seat, just in case he looks over.
I’m incapable of facing him. Not yet. It’s going to take a bottle of vodka before I do that.
Noah Fontaine.
Fuck.
I’m sixteen all over again.
