The next few days dragged on for what seemed like months. Back in the city, this leisure time wouldn't have seemed so dreadful with the world bustling around me outside. It was more a numbing sensation now – the closed off feeling in my throat whenever I thought about my past life had finally faded, to my relief. Now it was just empty – I couldn’t focus on anything, not that I needed to. There was nothing to focus on. I aimlessly wandered around the house, in a robotic routine. I would wake up and cook, then spend the rest of the day gardening or reading on the beach.
Celine and Carter were my salvation those first couple of weeks. Celine and I planted a bunch of pumpkin and sunflower seedlings that I bought during a day trip out to a nursery we had taken. We started a vegetable garden too. Carter had come down a few afternoons and helped me build two huge planter boxes out in the yard. One was for herbs – basil, parsley, chives, sage, oregano, and dill, and the other was for vegetables.
Carter became a friend almost as quickly as Celine had. We clicked immediately after I had come out of the house one afternoon to find myself bombarded by water balloons. Not to be outdone, I grabbed the garden hose and fired back. From then on, we were inseparable. His dog, a huge, pure white husky, shepherd mix named Koda, often came with him. I hadn't ever seen a bigger dog in my entire life. She wasn't bulky, but looked more wolf-like, tall and lanky. Despite her fierce appearance, Koda climbed into my lap right away; she was a sweetheart from the beginning.
When Celine and Carter were nowhere to be found, I occupied time by running or taking long walks. It was then that Koda became just as important a friend as Celine and Carter had. I would usually find her walking down Spruce street by herself as I ran passed on my daily run. Even though I ran at different times, she knew I'd be coming and would trot out right behind me and would follow the whole way. She would even stand at my side if I stopped to tie my shoe or rest – like she was protecting me. I would always turn onto Hemlock for the last leg of my run, and would kick into high gear. Koda ran along happily at my side, her mouth hanging open, her tongue wagging wildly out of the side of her mouth. Collapsing into the lawn, listening to my heart beating rapidly in my ears with that dog by my side was the only real time I was totally at ease those first few days. She was the first friend I felt totally normal with.
When I was alone all day, I found myself writing in my journal too. I had the one Dad had just given me filled within a week. I quickly concluded, as I re-read my entries, that I never needed any vacation. Being here felt permanent, not like a summer holiday.
When time turned to an anxious episode of cabin fever, I called Hollie and Sadie. But Hollie was setting up her new apartment and classroom in Maine, and Sadie, well God only knew where she was by now. I expected her gone for at least another month on her trip with Andrew.
Hollie should have at least called me back. She didn’t for almost three weeks. When she finally did call, we talked mostly about her. And why wouldn’t we? Nothing was new here. Still, I wanted to smack her. At least ask.
All the more reason why I was shocked one morning to see my cell phone vibrating its way towards the edge of the kitchen table. Sadie’s picture ID blinked across the screen as I snatched it. I was smiling ear to ear before I heard her high pitched voice. The smile faded when I heard her tone.
"I think after this trip I'm moving back up to Seattle," she said in a low voice.
"Thought you were excited for the change in scenery?"
"The change is scenery is good, but the company isn't so great."
"Andrew?"
"I'm going to break it off," she said, barely whispering.
"What happened?" I was shocked. Sure, I hated him, but I thought she was in love with him, despite his obvious faults.
"He’s cheating on me." She said it flatly, determined to keep emotion from her voice. "I could take the little quirks, the shit that he said or did every once in a while – the stuff that I know drove you nuts, but not this. I'm over it."
"Sadie Montgomery, I can't believe it. I'm so proud of you."
There was a silence on the other line.
"Thanks," she said quietly. "I needed to hear that. Mom is pissed."
Every interaction Hollie and I ever had with Sadie’s mom pushed us towards an unfortunate conclusion. Her mom is certifiably nuts. A loud, opinionated Italian woman who spoke very little English and likes to fight. Add crazy to the mix, and you had the most terrifying individual on the planet.
"Of course she is. She was practically planning your wedding." There was a muted giggle in the receiver as an idea burst into my head, the figurative light bulb exploding instead of just lighting up. "Come stay up here for a while if you want to – we have an extra bedroom." I had forcibly stripped all of the apprehension from my voice and apparently stored it in my left foot that nervously twitched against the leg of the table as I waited for her reply.
"I think I might. I'll call you in a couple days."
That was as good as a yes as I’d ever get from her and the excitement switched to both feet, propelling my knees in giddy bounces under the table. Still it was absent from my voice. It was happy for me, but completely earth-shattering for her. "I guess I don’t need to ask how the trip went then."
"That’s a face-to-face conversation."
"That bad?"
"I want to see your reaction." I made some sound of protest. "Got to go, Len. I’ll call in a couple of days."
If Sadie could actually wait to tell me, it must be something big.
I hung up the phone with a newfound enthusiasm, and sat there, thoughts of my own new relationships crossing behind my eyes.
Carter, bless his soul, was my brother-from-another-mother. Despite the fact that he worked every other second and was always on call, he and I hung out a lot; he and Celine saved me from teetering off the cliff side - suicide by boredom. Besides them, and the Whitfields, who I avoided like the plague, Cole was really the only other person I had met, and he was another story altogether.
The day after the kayak incident, I was sitting in the living room watching an old black and white Audrey Hepburn movie. I had just stuffed an entire piece of red vines candy into my mouth when Cole came bursting in through the back kitchen door, yelling for Dad. He hadn't seen me sitting in the living room yet, and he casually opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He cracked it open and strolled into the living room where he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Is Rick here?"
I would have laughed at him had my mouth not been so full. Did I have a scarlet "A" sewn into my dress? Or a third arm coming out of my forehead? I acted the exact same around Celine and Carter, and yet he was so… wary. I had quickly and painfully swallowed my mouthful and told him that Dad was out in the garage, barely finishing my sentence before he was out the door.
You weren't awkward when you were plucking me out of the Puget Sound, I thought, shoving another licorice vine in my mouth.
In the days to come, it became common place for Cole to burst through the back door like that. He obviously had been doing it for quite some time. Not only that, but Dad and Cole spent almost all their free time together.
They worked on the boat together in the garage.
They re-shingled the roof.
They worked on Dad's Camaro.
Both Dad and Cole would come in most afternoons, greasy and filthy from working on something mechanical. On cue, Dad would pull a plate of sandwiches (made by yours truly) out of the refrigerator, and hence would prompt the only interaction between Cole and me for the better part of the entire day.
"Thanks for lunch."
"No problem."
Then they’d vanish into the living room and then would come the loud sportscaster’s voice over the television.
Five weeks of this and I was about to go nuts.
Dad alternated his work schedule – one weekend at home, the next away on a trip.
He and his buddy, Tom, had just left for a weekend fishing trip that Thursday morning and the four of us, Cole, Carter, Dad and I had spent Wednesday afternoon getting them ready. Carter and I stocked coolers and the cabin of the boat, and Cole and Dad had finished rigging the trolling engine on the back of the speedboat.
Dad had said that we were welcome, but both guys had to work, and the last thing Dad needed was me coming between his "bro time." Poor Dad. He had been a bachelor so long, and a little adjusting to having a female back in the house was in order.
I rode in the back of the truck with Dad and Tom down to the boat launch that early Thursday morning. Dad was one of the only people left in town that even attempted this launch site, but after all this time, he could do it with little effort. After it was in the water, we loaded all the extra gear and I pushed them off the sand bank.
It was still early but I was wide awake, so after they had disappeared around the point, I drove Dad's pickup across the Hood Canal Bridge, into Port Gamble and stopped for a coffee. The familiar taste of the drink was comforting, and with nothing else to do, I drove onward to Kingston to spend the morning.
It was nice, wandering through the random shops of the tiny seaside town. It felt like a real neighborhood here, as opposed to our barely civilized neck-of-the-woods. Now, I walked past people, smiling into their unfamiliar faces. Maybe one day I would know them. Maybe one day I would walk into these shops and feel like I belonged here.
Now I was just a stranger.
Half way through the morning, I had a bouquet of farmer's market flowers under my arm and was just forcing myself out the door of a pet shop. Next door I found myself being pulled, as though by magnet, inside. It was the cutest bookstore I had ever seen. I smiled briefly at the lady at the counter before disappearing into the maze of bookshelves.
I found an old and tattered history of Port Gamble eventually. I settled into a corner bench and began to flip through the yellowed and dog-eared pages. At first, I was just reading for the sake of wasting time, but soon, I was scanning the pages feverishly – names, dates, black and white pictures – I felt like I was reading an old yearbook, like I knew these people and places already. Port Gamble, I knew, was a 19th century milling town but I had no idea that Port Ludlow had a history older than that.
I bought the book.
The glare of the sun shining through the window startled me all of a sudden. What time was it? My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket and I fished it out in a panic. It was the alarm that I had set for myself.
I had a date with Celine that afternoon and, with my new purchase under my arm, I trudged into the afternoon air and towards the truck. Walking and reading never worked well together, but I tripped along the sidewalk anyway, nose deep in the book. Names caught my attention – I didn't know what any of these people had to do with anything, but the feeling that I knew them already didn’t fade. Maybe Dad or Celine had mentioned them before.
At home, I changed my clothes and got ready to meet Celine at her house, but soon I saw her blue sedan pull into the driveway next to Dad’s Camaro. She beamed a smile through the windshield as I bounded out the door, excited for our evening.
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