by Brown, Tara
I didn’t know how to take that so I just brushed it off. “Yeah, young girls all look the same. We have the same standards. It’s called Victoria’s Secret.”
He nodded. “That’s pretty true. You teenagers all look the same.”
I didn’t like the fact he was right. There was nothing different about us. We all took a million selfies. We all dressed hipster and pretended it was just how we dressed, but it wasn’t. We all obsessed about social media and everything. The six-week break from it had been refreshing in a weird way. I felt free. It didn’t rule me. I didn’t care where everyone was going or who was dating. I didn’t care about any of it. I was in a town in the middle of nowhere, seeing something I couldn't imagine never seeing. What if I hadn’t met Aiden? I would have gone my whole life and never seen any of this.
Instead of caring about all the crap I did before, I cared about the red-and-white ring on my finger and the cute boy who possibly had my heart. The way he stared at me through his lashes and the way he smiled were the things I obsessed about now. It took up all the room. There was no room for drama or petty things.
A few days later, I was sitting with the mean old ladies, playing cards and drinking something they called a Tom Collins. A man showed up, hand delivering a letter.
Finley,
I trust the last trip was exciting. The day this letter reaches you, a car will arrive at Hattie’s. Dress nicely. The place you are going is a bit fancy. I wish I could be there to see your reaction to it all.
Yours,
A
I didn't really know what to say, but a bright smile pasted itself across my lips.
“From Aiden?”
Marbles gave me a crooked smile when I nodded. She shook her head. “You are done for, my dear. That boy has you wrapped right up.”
Hanna folded her arms across her chest. “Yes. I never saw you as a ‘get married right out of high school’ sort of girl, but I guess I was wrong.”
“What?” My smile faded away. “No—no way. He’s hot and stuff, and obviously the whole sending me on random day trips is kinda awesome, but no way. He’s an English dude I met while I was summering in Canada. That instantly says no hope for a future. Besides, I don't want that. I just wanna have fun.”
I didn't say anything about my mother doing the whole pregnant at nineteen and hating her life. No matter what, that wasn't going to be me.
Sarah gave me a smirk. “We’ll see.”
“Oh my God.” I sucked back my drink and got up. “You are some hateful old women.”
They cackled and I waved as I walked away.
Sure enough, the car was at Hattie’s by five p.m. I was in a summer dress she had gotten me and some sandals of hers. She had never worn them. They still felt used to me though. I hated that feeling. The smell of used things made me want to gag.
I ran my fingers through my hair and took a long look. I was different, less stressed maybe.
Life without Sheila was like going macrobiotic with Gwyneth Paltrow. My whole body was feeling better than it ever had.
I strolled out into the foyer, getting an approving nod from Hattie. Even Peaches seemed to dig the dress. “Where are you going?”
“I don't know. You sure you don't want to come?”
She scoffed. “Not a chance.”
“Fine, be that way.” I walked out to the driveway as the car pulled in. The same man who had driven me before was there. He smiled as he hopped out and got the door. “Hello again.”
With him, I finally got to see the city. He took us right downtown, starting with the crappy outskirts part. “This is Cole Harbour. It's the start of the city.” It wasn't very nice. The area seemed poor. He drove into an old part with outdated houses and pawnshops. “This is Dartmouth.” I wrinkled my nose until he turned his head back. “I live here.”
“It’s cool. Lots of old houses.”
He laughed. “It’s the dumpy part of town.” We crossed a bridge and suddenly I started to see it. He drove us into the heart of Halifax. The streets were narrow and the buildings felt like they were on top of you. The view of the ocean surrounding the harbor city was stunning. The whole thing was a mix of old and new. He pulled up into a graveyard. My eyes went down to my dress and I scowled.
He parked and got the door. An old man, maybe Hattie’s age, walked up to me. “You must be Finley Roze.”
“I am.”
He took my hand in his. “I am Albert Bingley. I used to be a caretaker here.” He offered me his arm. I took it and we walked past headstones that were crazy old. I leaned in, checking the dates. “Holy snap, these are old.”
“Yes, Halifax has been around for hundreds of years. The graveyards here are unique to other places though.”
I felt my stomach twist. “Look, Albert, I’m sure you were paid to take me on some haunted tour, but the guy who paid for this, doesn't know me very well. He doesn't know I don't like scary stuff.”
He smiled and patted my arm. “Fear not, we aren’t taking a haunted tour. This isn’t even the haunted graveyard.”
“Okay.” I didn't feel better about it.
He walked me to a large group of headstones that were all identical and pointed. “These are the Titanic victims.”
My jaw dropped. “What? In the Leonardo movie, they were in like icebergs. Does Canada have icebergs?”
He laughed. “Not near here. The victims were brought here because it was the closest place. Although the way the tides work, a lot were brought to us, washed up on shore.”
He let me go and I stepped amongst the graves, reading the markers. Unknown was a common name, but I was surprised at the vast number of people who were identified. There were children amongst the headstones, with names. Some had engravings, like for the crew of the ship who went down with her. My nose started to tingle and my throat got a lump. Rows and rows of headstones, all people who were never properly buried by their families. The little kids were the hardest.
“Ships from here were used as retrieval boats. Only a third of the victims were ever found. Over a thousand still out there, buried at sea.”
There was one headstone that ruined my chances of a tear-free evening. It was one for a woman, with the names of her four children listed below hers.
I didn't know why he wanted me to see it, and I wasn’t sure I liked that I had. But it felt like him. His crazy intense way of experiencing things matched the overwhelming way I tried not to feel anything. It made me think he was holding my hand and standing next to me.
I turned to Albert. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Here you are.” He handed me a letter and offered me his arm. I took both.
“So where are you from?”
“Out West. Spokane.”
“I don't know the area well. I’ve been to California, but that's it.” When we got to the car, he nodded. “Enjoy the remainder of your evening, Miss Roze.”
“Thank you for showing me that.”
“Of course.” He turned and walked off, like he was a ghost of the graveyard. I got into the car and opened the letter. I was so full of emotion I was almost angry with Aiden, but his letter made me smile.
My dearest Finley,
I hope you are not too angry I made you come here. I feel as though it is our duty as the living to pay respect to the dead. You cannot come to Halifax and not see the great Titanic graveyard. They deserve the homage of it.
I miss you and I can’t wait to be back. Enjoy the remainder of the evening.
Yours,
A
As much as I almost hated the experience, he was right. The driver took me back into the heart of the city, parking beside something that looked like a pub. He got the door, and when I got out, he winked. “Be back in a couple of hours.”
I walked up to the restaurant, noting the name “Five Fishermen.” It was odd. When I got inside, it had a trendy feel to it. A hot guy walked up. “Good evening, do you have a reservation?”
“I bet I do. Finley
Roze?”
He smiled wide. “Of course you do. It’s my pleasure, Miss Roze. Your party is already waiting.”
My party? Oh shit.
He turned and led me to some stairs. We got halfway when he pointed at the five pictures of the fishermen on the wall. “Those are the five fishermen.”
“Did they open the restaurant?”
He laughed. “No.”
Okay . . .
We got to the top of the stairs and he pointed at a wine room. “See the hook there in the chandelier?”
I looked up at the old hook.
“This building was the mortuary in Halifax at the time of the First World War, the Halifax Explosion, and the sinking of the Titanic. That hook is what brought the caskets up for the staff. It is the original hook.”
I gulped. “Seriously?” I was going to murder Aiden. Dinner in a mortuary?
His eyes brightened. “This way.” We made our way up more stairs to a small salad buffet and a girl cooking mussels.
He turned and walked up another set of stairs.
The strangest feeling stirred in my stomach. The short staircase led to a private dining room. My heartbeat quickened and my palms started to sweat.
“You feel it, don't you? This is the old captain’s quarters. It was the embalming room at one point. They say it’s very haunted. There was a fire once too. Psychics say they can smell the smoke and see the flames sometimes.”
I took a step backward. I didn't believe in ghosts. I didn't know what I believed. But I felt whatever was in that room. It didn't want me there. I backed down the stairs to the salad bar. “That's creepy.”
“It is. We’ll make up a table for a party and then leave. When we come back, the dishes are all over the floor. Very strange room.” He gave me a mischievous look. “Want to see the ladies’ room where the little girl cries?”
“No.” I shook my head in rapid twitches. “Hell no.”
He laughed. “Okay, to the table then.” He turned and walked me through the beautiful dining room to a small table. A girl my age was there, texting. My fingers twitched at the want to hold her cell phone. She looked up and smiled. “Hi!”
I sat, but the waiter offered no menu. The girl put a hand forward. “I’m Dee, Aiden’s cousin.”
I couldn't have gotten the frown off my face if I tried. “Why are you here?”
“It’s nice to meet you too.” She winked a dark-brown eye. Her glossy black hair was pinned up in a bun and her clothes were beautiful, simple yet elegant. She looked like she’d just come off a yacht. She pointed at the harbor. “We were sailing through, my husband and I.”
I almost gagged. She looked my age. “I’m Finley.”
“I know. When Aiden found out we were stopping in here—we love one of the local wineries—he told me I had to have dinner with the girl who had stolen his heart.”
“Oh my God. He said that?”
“Yes.” She laughed and sipped from her wine glass. “He did. He’s smitten, I’m afraid. I’ve never seen him like this.” Her eyes darted to the ring. I blushed more. “So you’re his cousin?”
“I am. I’m his second cousin on his mother’s side.” Her accent was similar to his.
“Tell me about him.”
Her eyes flashed. “He is a pain in the ass. He’s one of those people who wants you to feel a thousand things, so he makes you watch documentaries that break your heart and go to places that rip your insides up or scare you. This restaurant is a prime example of his desire to push the envelope. He’s very passionate. Reminds me of Romeo, you know? So intense and overwhelming he accidentally kills people and then himself.” She laughed like it was a funny comment.
Images of Leonardo playing Romeo flashed in my head. “I guess.”
“He’s always in love with something new—a country, a town, a lake he saw. It’s got to be exhausting, I figure, being him. He has the time though. His obligations are less than others in his position.”
I didn't know what that meant, but I didn't have a chance to ask. A plate of mussels and lobster-stuffed scallops arrived at the table.
“The one thing I love about him is the way he knows the best of everything. If he orders dinner for you, it’s going to be the greatest meal you have ever eaten.” She winked at the waiter and lifted her appetizer fork. I lifted mine and she clanked them together. “Cheers!”
It made me smile, all of it. The meal, the creepy restaurant, and the cousin who had to meet me because I stole his heart.
She took the first bite, closing her eyes and sighing.
I took a bite as she did, letting the food melt into my taste buds. My mouth was having the best day ever. “God, this is good.”
“I told you.” She ripped up the bun on her plate and dragged it through the sauce, moaning, aloud. When she swallowed and had some more wine, the awkwardness of strangers eating hit. “So tell me about you.”
“I’m working at the retirement home where he is. I’m seventeen. I am from Spokane, Washington. My dad is kinda lame and my stepmom hates me.” I laughed. “I have a cool stepsister. The other one’s awful, just awful.”
“Like Cinderella.” Her eyes brightened.
“You could say that. Only I don't clean or sleep in soot.” I took another bite. “How does he find these places?”
“He travels a lot. He talks to old locals who know everything. He loves old people.” She rolled her eyes.
“What about you? You’re married but you’re not far from my age.”
“Thank you.” She gushed. “I got married when I was twenty three. It was young, but it was right.” She was the first person there that sounded as if she wasn’t completely sold on her marriage. “We work and travel. It’s not a terrible life. I don't really have anything amazing to tell. No mean stepmoms or sisters.” She winked.
It got much more comfortable after that. We ate and laughed and she won me over, just like Aiden had.
Teenaged girls can totally keep a secret. It just takes eight of their closest friends to do it.
Chapter Seven
Secondhand
August—oh God, school starts soon.
Wait—don’t I want that?
I sighed as the sun beat down on my face through the hat. The sun hat Hattie had given me was stunning. It was white with an extra wide brim. I felt like I was going to a polo match. Except of course, I was in cutoffs and a white bikini top. Hattie had bought me clothes. She said she got them at Frenchy’s. I assumed it was a Canadian clothing store. They weren’t the nicest, but they worked.
“I have to go back to Frenchy’s. You wanna come?” she shouted at me.
I opened an eye and gazed up from the wide brim. “Uh sure.” I pulled on my white tank top and flip-flops and ran around the side of the house and hopped into the Toyota.
“You feeling okay? You been really weird since you went down home.”
“What?” I scowled. “I never went home.”
She laughed. “My husband was from just south of Lunenburg. That’s down home to me now.”
“Oh. Uhm, yeah, I’m fine. It’s nice there.”
“‘Tis nice. Your mom loved it there.”
I gave her a look. “What was my mom like?”
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing. Just her smile sometimes if I think hard enough. I think she used to sing to me too. A song about two brothers going off to war and they had a wooden horse or something.”
She scoffed. “I taught her that song. It was huge in the sixties.” She looked out the window on the other side and exhaled deeply. “Your mother was free. There was no holding her back. She was always crazy about everything, in love with a different boy every week, and in love with a new flower and a new outfit. She was fickle, I guess. But it made her easy to love. She was passionate. When she found out she was pregnant with you, it was sort of the end of that.”
The words cut into my chest. I knew my mother’s life was like that, but hearing it made it worse.
I didn’t feel better hearing any of that. I had been the ruin of my mother and then she died.
Hattie turned into a crappy-looking parking lot in a rough part of town. It was the city but the junky outskirts. The sign that said Frenchy’s didn’t look like anything to get excited about. This crap-hole store was where she had bought my bathing suit?
I followed her inside, stopping short in the doorway just before the bins separated by sizes. “Are these clothes used?” The words ripped from my lips, a little too loud.
Hattie laughed, but the people picking through the bins gave me the shittiest looks ever. “Yes, princess. Now come on. You kids all want to look hippie. Well, this is where it originated.”
“It’s hipster and I’ll just wait here.” The smell was getting to me, as was the fact I was wearing a used bathing suit.
She rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.” She strolled in and started hitting the bins, grabbing nightgowns and tee shirts and stretchy pants. She had an armload when she got to the checkout. The lady rang it in. “Twenty-two dollars.”
It was like shopping at Old Navy on Black Friday but even cheaper. I looked down at my bathing suit and shorts. “Are these used too?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Grab a bag and stop being so infantile.” I could barely move without wondering where my clothes had been before me. Who wore clothes and then gave them away? Drug addicts, that’s who.
