Innis Harbor

by Patricia Evans Cox

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s twenty, and everyone says we look like twins, although we’ve never thought so.” Loch put her napkin beside her plate and scooped up the last of the pomegranate seeds. “We’re both tall with a similar build, but she’s got blond hair like a normal person and a good twenty pounds of muscle on me.”

  “Are you close?”

  “Since day one.” Loch smiled, then paused for a moment, turning her head toward the music in the background. “That’s Hamad Homayoun playing, isn’t it?”

  Amir looked at her and raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Yes,” she said. “But how does a white girl from Manhattan know that?”

  “I’m pretty sure I should be offended by that,” Loch said, laughing and tossing her napkin at Amir. “But that should teach you something about appearances.”

  She laid her silverware on her plate and took a sip of her wine.

  “I love his music. I saw him just outside London a few years ago. He was doing a midnight concert in an old stone church when I was on my way back to my hotel from some marketing event. It was raining, but I still heard his music from the next street over and followed it until I found where it was coming from. The doors were open to the street, and the church was lit entirely by candlelight. I was soaked by that time but sat in the back of the church until it was over. It was the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. I never forgot it.”

  “Wow, I did not see that coming.” Amir bowed her head slightly and laid her hand across her chest. “I stand corrected.”

  Loch smiled. “That’s better, Farzaneh.”

  Somehow, the waitstaff managed to fit dessert onto the table, and Loch leaned back in her chair and looked at Amir.

  “I can’t eat any more,” she said, her eyes soft. “But thank you for bringing me here. I loved it.”

  Amir held her gaze, then reached over and chose a rose petal from a saucer at the edge of the table. “Come here.”

  Loch leaned closer, and Amir brushed her lower lip with her thumb as she put it in Loch’s mouth. Loch closed her eyes and forgot to breathe as the sugared petal melted on her tongue.

  It was late afternoon by the time they finally pulled back up to Loch’s house. The seagulls wove a tight pattern against the blue sky, calling loudly to one another on their way down to the water. Loch rolled her window down as the breeze lifted the hair at the back of her neck, brushing across her skin like fingertips. Amir pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to her.

  “I don’t remember your aunt ever actually building a fire, so I thought you might not have a lighter in the house.”

  Loch took it and looked at Amir. “So, you brought me one?”

  “Don’t look so shocked.” Amir smiled. “It’s like you’re some jaded New Yorker or something.”

  Loch traced the edge of the lighter with her fingers as she climbed the hill to her house and watched Amir’s truck disappear around the corner.

  After Loch went into town for groceries the next day, she let herself into the house and almost slipped on the mail that had been dropped through the door slot. Under the advertisements, junk mail, and an electric bill, there was a small manila envelope. It was addressed to her in her mother’s handwriting, which seemed odd because she’d talked to her mom that morning, and she hadn’t mentioned it.

  She slid her finger under the seal and popped it open, then pulled out another white envelope with a note attached.

  Loch, the note said in her mother’s loopy feminine script, I promised your aunt that if anything ever happened to her, I’d send you this letter.

  Loch opened the envelope slowly, tears forming behind her lashes when she saw Samia’s handwriting; she’d always written in tiny block letters almost too small to read.

  Dearest Loch,

  If you’re reading this I’ve already kicked the bucket, and I don’t want you moping around about it. Your mom has the number of my lawyer in town, and he’ll have all the paperwork you need. I’ve left everything I care about to you, including all my art and my truck in the garage out back. If you can learn to drive, you can have it.

  Learn to drive, kiddo.

  Now I know you, so listen to me here. Don’t get all sentimental about the stuff in the house. It’s just stuff, and I was tired of most of it anyway. Clear it out and get some fresh energy in the place, make it your own, whether you decide to keep it or sell it. It’s yours now, as it should be.

  And take this letter right now and walk down to the docks. Crumple it up and throw it as far off the end as you can. I don’t want you keeping stuff that doesn’t matter.

  The day you were born, I held you and you wrapped that little fist around my thumb. From that day on, you were my whole heart. Nothing’s different today, except that now I’m still alive in yours. I’m sure as hell not in that stuff laying around.

  I know you don’t want to, but cut it the fuck loose.

  All I ever wanted was to be back with your dad and Colleen, so just be happy for me.

  I love you. I always will.

  Samia

  Loch slid down the wall and dropped her head into her hands, the tears falling hot and fast into her palms and sliding down her wrists. Her aunt was the only person in her life who never gave a shit what she looked like, and the world seemed colder the second she’d found out Samia died while she was standing on that Manhattan sidewalk. But now for the first time, she felt Samia’s energy around her, pushing her toward the door and down to the docks.

  “Okay, Jesus, I’m going,” Loch muttered, dragging the sleeve of her flannel across her eyes and getting to her feet, grabbing her leather jacket as she headed for the door. She folded the letter back into the envelope as she walked back to town in the sunlight that suddenly seemed too bright. She stopped twice before she got to the docks, barely resisting the urge to put it into her pocket and run back to the house. As she resealed the letter, she saw a small line of script near the bottom edge of the envelope.

  PS. You’ve got enough money. Stop working so damn hard.

  Loch laughed out loud. Samia never did mince words.

  She reached the dock just as the sun was setting over the water, the gulls dipping and diving around her, waiting for the shrimping boats to come into the harbor. She’d been there for almost a half hour, unwilling to let the letter fall from her fingers, sink slowly under the dark water, and slip away from her. She knew that if she sat here until the sun rose, until people started to stare, she wouldn’t be ready to let Samia go. But her aunt had known that, and now she had to do it whether she felt like it or not.

  She stood, holding the crumpled ball of paper as tightly as she could for one last second, then threw it into the setting sun, watching it hit the water without a sound and sink slowly out of sight. As Loch sat back down on the dock, her heart was raw, but she knew she’d done the right thing. The thing she’d never have done without a letter from the aunt who knew her heart.

  “Hey,” a voice said from behind her. “I thought that was you.”

  Amir sat beside her on the end of the dock as Loch dragged her sleeve across her cheek. After a moment, Amir reached over and tipped Loch’s head onto her shoulder, fingers soft around her neck. They sat there until darkness fell and the wind picked up, then Amir stood, picked up Loch’s jacket, and held out her hand.

  “Ready?”

  It was just one word, but it was the one Loch needed to hear.

  Amir walked her to the end of the dock where her truck was parked, then opened the door and asked her where she wanted to go.

  “Anywhere.”

  Amir just nodded, shutting her door and walking around to the driver’s side. Loch rolled down her window as Amir started the truck, letting the wind dry the last of her tears as she looked out over the water where the letter had disappeared one last time. Amir took the road that led into the woods and out of town, and just a few minutes later, they pulled up a winding drive to a two-story log cabin t
ucked into the woods at the edge of the water. It was small but beautifully built with a slate roof and a redwood deck to one side that wound around to the back of the cabin. Amir got out and walked around the truck to open Loch’s door.

  “This is your house?”

  “It is.” Amir offered her hand as Loch stepped out of the truck. “My family buys and maintains rental properties, and I bought this one from my dad when I was twenty-two.”

  “Wow,” Loch said as they stepped onto the hand-laid stone path leading to the door. “This is amazing.”

  The door was heavy, textured wood, painted a deep emerald green with hammered iron hinges. Amir let them in and turned on the lamps in the main room, which was open to the kitchen on the left. A massive stone fireplace took up most of the back wall, rising past the loft tucked behind it. The house had a masculine look, with etched glass windows and mission-style lamps, but there was an unexpected softness to it, as well. Gray and white herringbone pillows lined the couches, with tweed wool throws draped over the back.

  Loch slid her jacket off and draped it over a kitchen chair, then wandered over to the hearth and picked up the ash-coated iron poker leaning against it. It was heavier than she thought it would be, and it slipped out of her fingers with a sudden heavy clatter.

  Amir looked over at her and smiled. “Fire?”

  “Um,” Loch stammered. “Only if you want one.” Her face gave her away before the words were even out of her mouth, and Amir just managed to look away before she laughed.

  She joined Loch at the fireplace and crumpled up some newspaper onto the grate, placing the twigs and kindling Loch handed her from the brass bucket beside the hearth. Amir stood and found the matches on top of the mantel, but by the time she’d gotten back to the grate, Loch had pulled the lighter she’d given her out of her pocket and was holding it to the pile of sticks, trying to get them to catch.

  “Here.” Amir covered Loch’s hand with hers and lowered it to the newspaper. “You might have more luck getting this to light first.”

  She sat back on the hearth and let Loch start the fire, watching her as the flames took hold and slipped across the logs like liquid light. The angles of her face were sharp, her eyes intensely blue against the pale lock of silver hair swept across her forehead.

  “Have you eaten today?” Amir asked. “I’m going to make a sandwich. Do you want one?”

  Loch started to say something, then caught herself. “I’m okay, I don’t need anything.”

  Amir paused, then went to the kitchen and made a cheese sandwich, tucking two Heinekens under her arm on the way back. She sat on the floor in front of the fire with Loch and held out one of the halves. Loch just looked at her and shook her head, and Amir set it slowly back on the plate.

  “So,” she said. “What have you had to eat today?”

  Loch raised an eyebrow in Amir’s direction and looked back into the fire.

  Amir smiled. “And yes, I do realize it’s none of my damn business.”

  Loch took a breath, but it was a long few seconds before she spoke. “Coffee and a banana.”

  Amir didn’t say anything, just put the plate behind her on the hearth and listened. Loch hesitated before she spoke, and when she did, the words fell out in a rush.

  “Everyone thinks models are anorexic, but that’s not always true.” She pulled her beanie off her head and raked her fingers through her hair. “I want to eat. I’m sick of being hungry. Actually, I’ve been sick of it since I was fifteen.”

  Amir handed her a beer and settled against the hearth, facing her. She wanted to say a thousand things, but it wasn’t the time.

  “It’s just part of the job,” Loch said finally, rubbing the back of her neck with her thumb. “Designers want the world to see their designs, not the model, so basically, you’re a clothes hanger. The thinner you are, the better the clothes look, and that’s all they care about.” She paused, glancing into the fire. “And they’re right. It’s my job to make their work look as good as possible without getting in the way.”

  Amir nodded, taking her bottle back and flipping off the top she’d forgotten to open before she handed it back.

  “I know some girls go too far, but they start so young it’s easy to lose perspective.” Loch dropped her gaze as she set the bottle back down. “Gaining five pounds is like quitting your job, and there are literally hundreds of girls in line to take your place at any moment.”

  Loch pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them.

  Amir waited a moment before she spoke. “What else?”

  Loch looked up, surprised, but didn’t answer for so long that Amir thought she might not.

  “Honestly?”

  Amir nodded, watching the gold reflection of the fire against the deep sea blue of Loch’s eyes.

  “I’m sick to death of people looking at me. When your face is everywhere, people start to assume they know you.” She paused, and the muscles in her jaw tensed. “And they don’t.”

  Amir reached back onto the hearth and handed Loch half of the sandwich. This time, she reached for it and took two bites before she went on.

  “I know I sound ungrateful, but I’m really not. I feel so lucky I ever got to do it in the first place. Some people never get a chance like that.”

  She looked down again and rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I guess I’m just tired.”

  Amir watched her put the last bite of the sandwich half in her mouth and glance over at the plate, so she handed her the other half.

  “Okay.” Amir leaned back and tossed another log onto the fire, the coals crumpling into layers of brilliant orange with a hiss. “If you’re going to eat my half, you’re going to have to tell me more.”

  “Why do you want to know all this?” Loch pulled the pickle slice out of the sandwich and popped it in her mouth. “You’re just going to find out I’m not that interesting.”

  “Bullshit.” Amir paused and held her gaze, her voice gentler than her words. “There’s a lot more to you than how you look.”

  Loch smiled as she pulled her sleeves down over her hands. “Well, you may be alone in that opinion.”

  Amir got up and threw a log on the fire, sending a spray of sparks up the chimney. Night had fallen dense and black against the windows, and Loch reached over and turned out the lamp next to the couch.

  Amir smiled. “You did that so you can see the fire better, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  Amir laughed and sank down on the couch. “So, what is it with you and fire?”

  “I loved it when I was a kid, and I just miss it, I think. No one has a fireplace in Manhattan, and I never have time to go out to the Catskills and sit around in a cabin like this.” She paused, running her palm across the arm of the couch. “I’ve never even been camping.”

  She curled her legs underneath her on the couch and looked at Amir.

  “Now that you’ve somehow managed to charm some secrets out of me, tell me something about you.”

  “There’s nothing exciting to tell,” Amir said, then took a swig of her beer. “I’m thirty, good with a paintbrush, extensive collection of floral dresses.”

  “Now I’m calling bullshit. At least the part where you said there’s nothing exciting to tell.” Loch smiled and raised an eyebrow. “The dress collection thing may be true.”

  “Okay, how about this?” Amir said, twisting the mariner’s watch on her wrist. “My dad’s gotten it in his head lately that it’s time for me to settle down, so he’s trying to find a man for me to marry.”

  Loch started to laugh but stopped when she realized Amir was serious. “Oh, wow, you’re not kidding, are you?”

  “I came out when I was sixteen, and he never said anything about it, just pretended it didn’t happen.” Amir’s hand tightened around the beer bottle. “My older brother is already married with two kids, so it’s not about grandchildren. And he won’t talk to me about it, I’ve tried.”

 
“How does your mom feel about it?”

  “She thinks he’s being ridiculous. She doesn’t care who I’m with as long as she’s Persian.”

  Loch tried not to laugh. “I’m guessing that dating pool is pretty small.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s nonexistent. Mom will have to just get over it if I bring someone home eventually.”

  “You’ve never brought anyone home?”

  “So far, I’ve liked my girlfriends too much to do that to them.” Amir smiled and looked over at Loch. “Okay, it’s your turn, although it may be hard to top a homophobic dad who wants his butch daughter to marry a dude. Good luck with that.”

  “Okay,” Loch said, biting the edge of her lip. “I might have something.”

  “All right, let’s hear it.”

  Loch paused, looking into the fire for a moment before she spoke. “I look pretty masculine in most of my photos, so everyone I’ve ever slept with has just assumed I’m a top in bed.”

  Amir held her gaze. “And are you?”

  “What do you think?”

  Amir’s voice was gentle. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  She nodded, and Amir reached over and tucked Loch’s hair behind her ear. “I think that you haven’t gotten the chance to find out.”

  Loch stared into the fire, watching as a log gave way and dropped into the coals. “It’s like everyone has all these expectations based on how I look in pictures, and if I don’t fit into them, they’re disappointed or something.” She picked at a thread on her sleeve. “Either that or they just assume I want to be a man.”

  “I understand that,” Amir said. “I think some of the older ladies in town think I actually am a man.”

  Loch smiled. “You’d think the floral dresses would be a clue.”

  “Cute.”