Blue

by Sarah Jayne Carr

  The doorbell sounded twice, one chime immediately following the other to deliver its urgency.

  “For the love of…” I stomped my way over to the entryway.

  Three more rings.

  “Hang on, would you?” I looked through the peephole, but years of sea salt had clouded the circular bubble of glass, and I couldn’t see much outside of a distorted figure. “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Open the door, Blue.”

  I turned the knob and pulled. “Beanbag?”

  He closed his eyes halfway. “It’s still Wesley. All day long. Twenty-four seven. Wesley.”

  He stood in the doorway, wearing a brown Carhartt jacket and matching work pants. His black boots were scuffed with wear, and his baseball cap was worn backward on his head. Disheveled reddish blond locks poked out beneath it. Everything about him screamed “mechanic”, which was a one-eighty from the past.

  “Are you here with the estimate for my car?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he replied. “That’s Eddie’s deal.”

  I lowered my voice, almost forgetting I was home alone. “I already told you I wasn’t interested in talking to you.”

  “Well, this might come as a surprise, but I’m not here for you. Believe it or not, carrying on this conversation hasn’t made the top five on my bucket list.”

  “You’re not here to try and talk to me again?”

  “You’ve already made it crystal clear you don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say, whether it benefits you or not. And I’m not about to chase you all over town like a mutt begging for attention.”

  “Then what else could you possibly be here for?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” He craned his neck, trying to look over my shoulder. “Is Daveigh here?”

  “What do you want with…” I looked up at the ceiling, my lungs deflating. “Good night. Please tell me you aren’t interested in my little sister.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business or that you have any say in it, but we’ve been together for about seven months now.” He crossed his arms. “Maybe if you’d call once in a while, you’d know that. But you don’t. So…”

  “Enough reprimands about my past are doled out around here. I don’t need any from you. Thanks.”

  He adjusted his hat. “Look, I don’t want to fight right now. I really don’t.”

  “Then leave. ‘Veigh isn’t here. Did you try calling her cell phone?”

  “Sure did, genius. She didn’t answer, so I figured I’d stop by.”

  “Maybe she’s at work,” I said.

  “She hasn’t worked since…You know what? Never mind. I’ve got to go.”

  “Since what?” I asked.

  “Forget it. Been real nice catching up with you.” His sarcastic tone didn’t go unnoticed as he turned around and stomped down the stairs, skipping the third from the bottom to avoid the creaky groan. I froze. It was then I knew he was serious about what he’d said about dating ‘Veigh. He’d been to the house often enough to know to avoid that step.

  I closed the door and leaned against it. The smells of cinnamon and cloves were too much, and I needed fresh air. I walked into the kitchen to grab my jacket when I saw the tablet of paper on the table. Still pristine white. Still no heartfelt words. With a scowl, I picked it up, shoved it into my bag before heading out the door.

  One of the few fortunate aspects about Steele Falls was it being so small. It left the gossip mill with the ability to spread like wildfire. On the other hand? Most of the places I used to frequent were within walking distance. My feet were on auto-pilot, leading me to the place where I did my best thinking—the beach.

  Twenty-five minutes later, I trudged across the hilly dunes of soft sand until the hard-packed layer of grit met my feet. I took my shoes and socks off, letting the numbing grains mold against my soles and squish between my toes as I walked. The fact it was October and cold didn’t matter to me. With the beach, it never did.

  The massive piece of driftwood I remembered was still there. Most of it had been bleached to a dirty, pale gray by years of wind and the sun beating on it. Nubs and branches stuck up in various places, making it look like a mess of deer antlers exploded from within. I sat down crisscross applesauce with my back pressed up against a flat spot. Using my jacket as a blanket across my lap, I snuggled against myself for warmth while gusts of wind fought to steal my body heat.

  Glancing to the left, an unexpected memory took hold. It amazed me how many little fragments of my past I’d let go. Graffiti had been carved into the wood with a pocketknife. Tracing the indentations with my fingertips resulted in a lump forming in my throat. I reached into my bag and pulled out a switchblade, fingering over the iridescent strip of color on the handle. I quickly shoved it to the bottom of the bag, burying it deep before I scooted over to cover up the initials with my back. Out of sight, out of mind.

  A house in the distance caught my attention, but I forced myself to look away quickly. Relentless waves smashed against the coastline, trumping the rest of the scenery, the home quickly forgotten. I fingered over the tablet of paper, but didn’t even know where to begin. Procrastination was about to be my crutch once again. Plus, I needed advice.

  Pulling out my phone, I scrolled through my contacts to another number I hadn’t used in years. It was time. Pushing send, I drew my feet up to my chest and waited.

  One ring.

  Two rings.

  “Hello?” a male voice answered. Loud music played, intertwining with multiple voices talking and laughter in the background.

  “Hey, Finn,” I replied.

  “Guys, turn it down, would you?”

  The level of background noise remained at a sustained decibel.

  “Hang on a minute! Maybe two! It’s loud in here!” he shouted.

  I looked out at the giant waves as they crashed on the shore while tears filled my eyes. The paper in front of me was blank, an empty canvas. I had no idea what words I could possibly bring myself to string together. There was no way to paint Tom in a positive light without casting shadowy lies. Daveigh had a better relationship with everyone in the family. I was the blackest of the sheep.

  It wasn’t fair of Elana to ask me to speak at the funeral. I hadn’t talked to either of my parents in two years. Two fucking years. Christmas’s were missed. Birthdays were forgotten. Thanksgiving was non-existent. I made sure to remember little of the man who’d “raised” me. Over time, I’d taken those memories and boxed them up securely, packing them away for good.

  If Daveigh was right about what the will said, I had to attend the funeral. If I didn’t meet with the lawyer, no one would get what was coming to them. Why was I always left to be the responsible one?

  The background became quieter. “Okay, I’m outside. Much better.”

  “How are you?” I asked, letting a handful of fine sand grains sift through the gaps between my fingers.

  “Fine?” he replied. “Who is this?”

  I sat up straighter, adjusting the pen and paper on my lap. “It’s Blue.”

  “Holy fucking shit. Blue?”

  “I’ve gotten that response a lot lately. You’re developing a hint of British accent, baby brother.”

  “Yeah, well a few years across The Pond will do that to you. How the hell are you?”

  “I’m…good,” I lied.

  “No, you’re not. You hesitated. What’s wrong?”

  “I…I don’t even know where to start.” I sniffled and wiped at my nose with the back of my hand.

  “Start with what? Where are you?” The level of concern in his voice elevated and was almost demanding.

  Even though he was my little brother, the youngest sibling in the family, Finn had always tried to act as my defender.

  “Steele Falls,” I r
eplied, tossing the pen and tablet in the sand out of frustration. “On the beach. Writing. Trying to write. Failing at writing.”

  “Hold up. You went home? I didn’t think you’d ever go back.”

  “Me neither, honestly. Daveigh said you’d be here too, but I guess I was wrong. I figured there’d be safety in numbers. You know?”

  “Safety for what?” he asked with a laugh. “Against a burger from The Fill & Spill?”

  “Against Mom.” I smirked.

  “Well, I don’t know if there’s any protection for that. Plus, she and I haven’t spoken in months. That woman’s avoided my calls like the plague. You can only reach out for so long before the rejection becomes one too many slaps in the face. You know?”

  “Wait.” I chewed my lip. “You haven’t spoken to her in months. But you’ve talked to her in the past week, right?”

  “No. Why?”

  I was silent.

  “Blue? Are you still there?”

  It felt like my stomach dropped ten feet below the sand and churned into a sea of knots while my mouth went dry. Shit. My manipulative bitch of a mother hadn’t told Finn that his father died, and there I was, left to handle it all myself. Hello, parental role. We meet again. Oh, how I haven’t missed you either.

  I fought to focus. “Yeah. I’m still here.”

  “What’s going on?” The fear behind his voice intensified again, knocking his voice up an octave.

  “I really don’t want to be the one to tell you this.”

  “Tell me what? You’re scaring me. Why are you in Steele Falls?”

  “It’s Tom.” I rubbed my face with my free hand. “How do I say this? Finn,” Taking a deep breath, I spewed the last two words quickly. “He died.”

  The other end of the line went silent. I couldn’t even hear the sound of his breathing.

  “Did we get disconnected?” My eyes brimmed and the world blurred. The emotion wasn’t out of sadness for Tom. A single tear wasn’t shed on his behalf. My grief was in knowing Finn was halfway around the world, and I couldn’t console him. I couldn’t see the look on his face to know whether he was okay or not. Was he crying? Was he shaking? Was he in the fetal position on some British sidewalk?

  “I’m here.” He let out a deep breath through his nose. “When’s the funeral?”

  “Finn…”

  “When. Is the damn funeral, Blue?”

  “Wednesday. It’s on Wednesday,” I replied.

  “I have to go,” he swallowed hard enough for me to hear through the phone, “deal with a few things.”

  “Wait…I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  His tone softened. “Don’t worry about me. We’ll talk soon. I promise. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  And then, the call ended.

  I covered my face with my hands and slammed my cell on top of my tote bag. “Why is my family so fucked up?”

  I shouldn’t have been the one to tell Finn about Tom, and spilling the beans wasn’t my intent. It was my mom’s responsibility, but she’d flung that stinky turd right over to me, where it didn’t belong. That was par for the course. Elana Meyer’s was devious, and it was in her nature.

  I sat and stared at the endless ocean, feeling as if I were comatose. Did I do the right thing? My limbs were like lead, and I’m not sure whether I blinked or breathed. Even though you couldn’t see it from the outside, my mind raced, dissecting the conversations I’d had since arriving in Steele Falls. Minutes ticked, but I didn’t know how many. Two hours? Maybe three? When the sun began to set behind a gauzy layer of clouds and the temperature began to wane, I knew it was time to leave. Looking down at my lap, the pad of paper was still as blank as it was when I’d arrived. The afternoon had been a failure—in so many ways.

  I walked back toward the house feeling defeated below a darkening sky. As I passed by The Fill & Spill, I stopped and did a double take. Daveigh’s Thunderbird was parked along the sidewalk, the hood cold.

  It was a rash decision. The chill had worn off me, and a fire ignited in the pit of my stomach. Confronting my sister consumed my thoughts. I was afraid if I didn’t take charge at that moment, I’d have let it all fester inside me for the rest of my life.

  I changed my direction away from heading toward Poplar, bee lining toward the front doors of the bar. The stained-glass window was still absent, thick packing tape and a layer of plastic combined with newsprint taking its place. That night, the music was more subdued but twangy, and I’d forgotten Sunday evenings were deemed country night at the bar. I looked around the hazy room and honed in on a large round table in the corner. Lucy and Beanbag were drinking beer, deep in conversation. The remaining chairs surrounding the table were empty—including one between them.

  I marched over to the table with my fists balled and my teeth clenched. “Where is she?”

  “Hey!” Lucy smiled.

  Beanbag crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Blue.”

  I opened my tote bag and pulled out the e-reader, letting it fall to the table from a few inches too high. The device made a harsh clunking sound. “I think this is yours.”

  She glanced at the screen. “Did you like it? It’s way hot, right?”

  “Where is she?” I asked again.

  “Who? ‘Veigh? She’s in the little girl’s room,” Lucy replied. “Is everything okay?”

  I turned on my heel and headed toward the bathroom, shoving my way past the swinging door. A frizzy-haired, redheaded woman washed her hands as she spied me in the mirror. Her eyes widened. The faucet handle squeaked as she spun it to the right, her hands covered in bubbles. She didn’t bother to rinse or dry them before she scurried through the doorway.

  “Daveigh!” I shouted as I walked through the bathroom, beating on the door of the only closed stall with my open palm. “I know you’re in there.”

  “Can’t a girl pee in peace?”

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  “Right now? When I’m in the pisser? About what?”

  “First of all, tell me you aren’t banging Beanbag Peters.”

  The toilet flushed. “He goes by Wesley now.”

  “As I’ve heard.” I grabbed her upper arm as she exited the stall. “Look at me. Do you think that if he changes his name, it automatically cleans up his reputation?”

  She shook free from my grip. “Since when do you get a say in who I’m seeing? From what I remember you haven’t been around for the past two years.”

  “Daveigh. He was the poster child for the clap.”

  “That was a long time ago, Blue. People can change. You, of all people, should know that.”

  I pursed my lips and placed my hands on my hips.

  “Quit standing there like Mom, like I’ve failed you or something.” She focused on washing her hands. “I’m not even looking at you and I know the expression on your face without even seeing it. And for the record, Wesley’s not the spokesperson for the clap.”

  I let my arms fall to my sides dramatically and cocked my head to the side.

  “What? It’s not like he actually had gonorrhea,” she said, reaching for a paper towel.

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s got a billboard reputation.”

  “He does not.”

  “He does. They still play his commercial on channel seven late at night. I’ve seen it. He’s known all over the place as Gonorrhea Guy, like it’s some gross superhero name. And I don’t even want to think about what his powers would be.”

  “That whole thing was more than a year ago, and he hated every second of participating in that commercial. His cousin is some big time TV guy in LA, and Bean…Wesley needed the money. It was no big deal, and he learned acting wasn’t his thing. Being a mechanic at Fast Eddie’s is a completely respectabl
e job. It suits him.”

  I curled my lip and let out a sigh. “Well, Mr. STD came to the door looking for you earlier today at the momster’s.”

  “He doesn’t have a…he did?” Her face blanched. “I mean okay.”

  “Second of all, and this one’s a doozy. Did you ask me to come back to Steele Falls because you wanted me here or because I had to come?”

  Guilt flooded her face, and I already had my answer. “The…”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Do you know how much a plane ticket would’ve cost me at the last minute? I could’ve jeopardized my job.”

  “You don’t have a job. Remember?”

  “At that point, I did. So that’s irrelevant,” I replied.

  She looked at the floor. “You wouldn’t have come otherwise.”

  “There are other ways you could’ve gotten me here, you know. If you’d have just asked me—”

  Daveigh’s jaw fell. “Asked? So you could’ve come up with some petty excuse? There was no other way. I’m pretty sure using a horse tranquilizer on a person and putting a burlap sack over their head is considered kidnapping, which is still illegal in the US unless things have recently changed.”

  “And onto topic number three. I found out Mom didn’t tell Finn about Tom. Were you in on that clusterfuck too, or did she drive the crazy train all by herself?”

  She blinked rapidly. “What do you mean? Mommy said…”

  “Yeah, well Mommy says a lot of things you can’t cash in at the bank. All I know is he had no idea until I ambushed him on the phone.” I paused. “But he sure as hell knows now.”

  “You had to be the one to tell him? Shit.” Daveigh looked as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her as she leaned back against the tiled wall. “I had no idea. How did he take the—”

  “How do you think he reacted? Not good. Think about this for a sec, ‘Veigh. If you hadn’t called me to tell me about what happened, do you think I’d be standing in a smelly bar bathroom having this conversation with you right now? Probably not. You’d be the only sibling attending the funeral.”

  “I can’t believe she didn’t tell him. Finn’s his kid too.” The little remaining color drained from her face and she covered her mouth, lunging for the bathroom stall, locking it behind her. “I think I’m going to be sick.”