Cona Island

Chapter 8

He woke with a start, eyes wide with fear in the dark room. When feeling came back into his body and he realized he was in bed, clutching at the sheets with his fists just below his throat, he exhaled and turned onto his back. He laid his arm over his forehead and tried to calm his rapid breathing. He’d dreamed of the explosion. After eleven months of therapy, and talking about it until he wanted to stab his own liver with a spear of ice, he still had nightmares. Eventually, the psychologists had declared him unresponsive to therapy, and had given him a chronic prescription for depression and insomnia. But he never took the pills anymore, because it made him feel even less of a human.

He glanced at the digital alarm on the bedside table. 02:45AM.

“Fuck.” He grunted, running his hand over his face, then got up sullenly.

He used the toilet, splashed his face with cool water, and went into the kitchen to make coffee, not bothering to dress his stump. He just used the crutches. Bean lightly snored on the floor. He thought the cat was slightly defective, because he sorely lacked the elegance and poise of other felines. He was almost never neatly curled into a ball when he slept, but always splayed open halfway on his back with the paws in the air like something that died.

He leaned against the worn counter in his kitchen and inspected the bungalow while he sipped. He thought of Melody, and thought he ought to spruce the place up a bit, if she ever wanted to come over. He had no décor, very little possessions, no homey pictures on the walls or anything like that. Hell, he didn’t even have curtains. And he wasn’t even embarrassed about it. Not in his own house, at least. He felt sorry for the poor sod who had to stumble upon the sight of his battered naked body, but then, what the hell were they doing looking through his windows anyway? He was discreet in public. This was his space. Sort of.

He told himself that the reason he hadn’t gotten decent furniture was because he still had to paint the place inside. Which was half true, he’d started on the bedrooms at least. He had chosen a very pale green colour, almost like a washed out lime. It fitted the beach-vibe, he thought, and went well with the dark colour of the panelling on the floors. For the living space he thought he’d choose a blue similar to the one used in Dave and Emily’s house. It would have fitted well with the exterior clapboard, which was originally blue. And the roof had white trims.

He would fix and reupholster the furniture eventually. He’d never been afraid of work. And between Cliff, this place, and Dave’s Chevy, he had plenty to keep himself busy with and to fill the spaces. Except the spaces at 03:00AM in the morning when he was supposed to be sleeping.

He gazed to the sofa. Sitting down, was not a good idea at this time of the morning. He would tell himself that he’d read, or maybe try playing the guitar again. But as soon as his behind was set down into that chair, or any other one, he would start dwelling on the past. And he would sit there, staring at the wall, sucked into the shadowy pits. It happened nearly every night. By the time the sun rose, he would be exhausted and it was a hell of a challenge to get himself out of his own head. He silently thanked Cliff for a job each time he managed to pull himself out of the muck. He had to keep himself away from it altogether and get busy with something – as long as he didn’t go sit down on a chair.

He finished his coffee, then went to dress his leg and fit his prosthetic. When he came back he started working out with the home gym, lifting weights. Before, there had been no real purpose to it, not after the accident, except the brief happy hormone rush he got afterwards. That was something the shrinks recommended. But now he thought he ought to keep himself in shape enough to be able to do his work, so he could at least be of some use to someone else. And it kept him busy at 03:00AM.

He finished his workout, took a shower, and finished applying another coat of paint in each bedroom. There were two of them, but they were small compared to the main bedroom. They each fit a double bed and a single small dresser, whereas he could fit a king-size in the main room, and he had an en-suite. As he painted, he thought the bungalow was big and a great deal all-in-all. Sure, it needed some TLC. That’s why the selling offer was probably so cheap. He considered buying it but he convinced the owner, Charlie, to give him some more time to mull it over. He didn’t plan on leaving the island. He didn’t feel like he could function in the real world anymore. The island felt different, more laid back, secluded and far away from trouble. But it was a big house for one guy.

By the time he finished it was just past five, and it was time to go out to the beach. He emptied a can of tuna into Bean’s bowl. The fat cat reversed his dead-rat position instantly, plodded to the bowl, and dropped down with a thump in front of it and started eating. Having done his duty, Drake rolled his eyes, he left.

Most of the days on the island were clear and sunny, with intermittent bouts of rain. He’d gone out to the marina to work sometimes, and ended up coming back to the Crabber’s Boat House soaking wet after an unexpected burst of rain. He had learned to keep dry clothes in his locker, just in case.

He had been walking for five minutes when he heard the characteristic helooo! that belonged to Melody. He turned and waited for her to catch up. She wore shorts and a tank decked out with butterflies and massive sunglasses today. And a curious pair of bunny ears on top of her head. All the while she strutted on over like she was on a catwalk. It was so ridiculous it made him chuckle, and love her a whole lot more. And, hell, the hip action made his manhood jerk.

“Morning handsome!” she beamed.

“Are we going to breakfast with you in that get-up?”

“Do you have reservations about that?” She was cheery and airy, and made him feel all kinds of hot and bothered things as he recalled their kiss from the night before.

“Not if you don’t. I don’t care what you wear, I think you’re always beautiful.”

“Aww,” she lifted her shoulders to her ears and smiled brightly.

“That’s so sweet.” Without thinking about it, she took his hand. It just felt natural, just like everything between them did. As much as he wanted to resign himself to staying away from her so he wouldn’t drag her down, he hadn’t been able to do that from the very first day they met. He was beginning to give up the notion altogether.

They walked in silence for a while, just listening to the sounds of the waves. Drake seemed pensive to her, and she wondered what was on his mind, and how she would coax him to spill it.

And then surprisingly, she didn’t have to. “Can I ask you something?” he asked.

“Absolutely! I’ll wear the green one.” She said definitively.

“Eh?”

“Oh! I thought you were going to ask me to wear my favourite green dress to dinner when I bring pizza to your place tonight.”

He gave a half-laugh. “You might want to rethink that.”

“Why?”

“My house isn’t exactly…lived-in.”

She shrugged her shoulder. “I can help you with that. I’m really good with decorating. Since you’re so set with living in that old wreck.”

“Hey now, be nice.”

She giggled.

“I’m fixing her. I applied the last coat of paint to the bedrooms this morning.”

Her eyes widened. She’d fallen out of bed that morning when her alarm clock went off, wet and drunk with excitement about seeing him again after the kiss they shared - and all the things they shared in her dreams... “When this morning?”

He heaved a tired sigh. “Since four, I think. I kind of lost track of time. I’ve been up since 02:45.”

“Why?” she asked, concerned.

“I don’t sleep well,” he admitted, “I have nightmares often about the accident. I just kind of go through the motions every day. God, actually I'm exhausted today.”

She tugged her mouth to one side in a pout. “I know what that feels like.”

“Which brings me back to my question,” he grinned at her, “Why weren’t you and Jason ever intimate? It kind of bugged me when you said that.”

She stared at the sand as they walked toward the lighthouse. They always went that way, and then walked all the way around it to stand and look out over the ocean.

“Jason doesn’t like women,” she started, “Well, he doesn’t like anyone since he has a massive god-complex, but he doesn’t like women in particular. It started when he was really young with a hate for his mother. He thinks women are inferior, somehow dirty, and only capable of being slaves to men to cook and clean for them.

He only took me because he thought I looked good on his arm. A good image for a policeman is to be married with children – but he was disgusted with me so, the children were never going to happen. He’d sooner kill women than be intimate with them. He was really kind of unstable, but he kept it together at work, and took out all the pent up frustration of having to reign himself in out on me when he came home.”

Drake clenched his fists in his pockets and felt his throat and ears heat up. When he was with Melody, the emotional fatigue that dragged at him lifted. Her airiness eased his miseries and frustrations, and made him feel like he actually wanted to be a better man. And then there was this asshole that took her only for some goddamn second-rate ornament. He wanted to smash something. “I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.” he muttered through a clenched jaw.

She waved a hand. “It’s not worth the trouble, believe me.”

That’s not how he felt about it, but he kept quiet for now. “Why do you still live with Dave and Emily, if you don’t mind my asking?”

She shrugged like he’d asked her what her shoe size was. “They offered for me to stay with them after Jason. I’ve lived on my own before, when I was younger. Then I met him, lived with him in his house of torture for a while, and then I went back to the house me and Bethany grew up in. I’ve never really had a desire to move out again, even if I could. If they wanted me out, I’d go. But they kind of like us all being together. Nanna and Uncle Dave never had children. They enjoy us as much as they can.”

She considered for a moment. “You may find it hard to believe, but Nanna and Uncle Dave know how to handle people who’ve lived through trauma. When the psychologists discovered I was unresponsive to therapy, they advised them to put me in a psych ward for a while after Jason. Nanna outright refused. She was adamant that I recover at home, with them.”

She smiled lightly. “I was bad at one time, Drake. I locked almost every door if I was in a room, checking the locks every few minutes, more than once and I put a chair under the doorknobs. I barely opened a window in my own bedroom. And frequently changed the locks on my door. I even locked myself in the bathroom and kept my showers to less than three minutes. I checked everything in my bedroom a hundred times a day to make sure nobody was there besides me, counted my underwear. I never wanted to go out alone. I couldn’t sleep at night. Jason was gone, but he still haunted me. Sometimes I’d get some sort of episode, and I would do stuff and not even remember that I did them.”

They were silent for a while. “I’m a little like that now. Especially at night when the ghosts chase me. Not all the locking and stuff but, I get lost in my head so deep that I don’t even realize I do stuff. When I come out of it, I see broken glass on my floor and a pool of wet. Later in the day, I’d remember that I’d taken water, sometimes.”

Melody squeezed his hand. “I totally get that. And so does Nanna and Uncle Dave. I promise you. And, don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just a suggestion. But usually my symptoms became worse when I was alone. They eased off when there were other people with me. I didn’t have to be surrounded by people all the time, there just had to be another presence in the house.”

He stopped and turned to her, cupped her cheeks in his hand. Those gilded eyes of his lifted her off her feet and kind of swept her out to sea until she was hopelessly lost. He pressed his lips to hers, clung to her for a moment. Then released her and pressed his forehead to hers. “For the record,” he said softly, “I think you’re worth so much more than just being arm-candy. And looking at you sometimes makes me feel like I can hear angels sing – of course that may just be my bad hearing, but…”

She giggled and he smiled warmly at her. He evaded the last part about being alone not being good, but she allowed it, for now. They continued their walk and when it was over, they went to the Café for breakfast, as he’d promised. He ordered the full English breakfast, and she a selection of pastries; a croissant, a bran muffin, and a bagel. They both got coffee.

“Can’t make up your mind, can you?” he asked, referring to her choice of food. He frowned when she threw three teaspoons of sugar and a bunch of cream in her coffee. “That is no longer coffee…”

“Not everyone can be grown-up enough to drink it black and bitter. And I never know what I want. So I order a selection. It doesn’t go to waste though, I just eat the rest later.” She tore off a piece of the croissant and stuffed it in her mouth, lazily closing her eyes at the heavenly buttery taste. “Your breakfast is pretty boring though,” she stated.

“I’m an eggs and bacon kind of guy,” he smiled as he took a bite of toast.

“Old-fashioned. Just like uncle Dave said.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. She didn’t know if it was wise to bring this up, but she thought they had shared a lot that morning, and she felt closer to him for it.

“Speaking of my uncle. He kind of mentioned that you had some kind of episode in the garden. What was that all about?” she asked it as casually as she could. She’d discovered when she talked to him about difficult things in no tones greater than talking about the current colour of the sea, his response wasn’t so emotionally charged.

He set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. He studied her a moment. If he wanted to be with her, it was only fair that she knew what she was up against. Besides, if there was anyone that would understand, it would be her. “Loud noises that sound anything like an explosion gives me flashbacks. I don’t enjoy fireworks, even if I’m there to see them and recognize them as being something different than a bomb going off, I still tense up.”

She nodded understandingly. “And the neighbours were setting off crackers. So, how do I handle that when it happens? For future reference.”

“You can’t stop it, but you can try to distract me.”

“Whoo,” she waggled her eyebrows. “I have a few ideas on how to do that. But I want to ask you something, and I have a feeling you’ll say no.” she winced.

“Let’s hear it.”

“Brad is having his birthday party in a couple of days, and many of our friends will be there. They’ve reserved space at Smuggler’s Dive, but it’s a kind of open affair and anyone can join in. It’s a really nice hangout place, they have a live band and everything. And we’re kind of wanting to go as a family, make an outing out of it. I was hoping you’d come with me to the party,” she shut her eyes and crossed her fingers in the air. “Please.” She peeped.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that he was sheet pale. “It’ll be fun! And I’ll be right there with you…”

He swallowed hard, she watched his adam's apple move. “Damn it, Mel. I’m not good at parties, I used to be before my hearing was a mess.”

Actually, he used to be the life of the party. He played his guitar and he sang, just like a country singer, his buddies had said, but he didn’t need to tell her that. But he felt bad for thinking of saying no. He could see it meant a lot to her. He didn’t ever want to disappoint her. Come on, Drake, live a little. Abby’s words. Fighting against his knee-jerk reaction, he gave in. “You know, my sister is plotting against me from her seat in heaven. Fine.”

She squealed like a child in excitement and did a little happy-boogie.

He smiled and shook his head. “What the hell are you doing to me, Mel?”

“Coercing you out of your cave, Mr. Hermit.”

“I like my cave.”

“Liking it is fine, it’s your safe place. But you can’t hide in there away from life forever.” In fact, having talked to her aunt and uncle the night before after he’d left, she wondered if it was safe at all for him to be there alone.

“Why not?” He tugged at the corner of the napkin next to his plate, didn’t make eye contact.

The question made her sad, but she was careful to hide it, she didn’t want him catching it. But she felt like he already had. The fact that he even thought of it as an option was heart-breaking.

“Because there are people who love you, and care about you, and want to see you and talk to you. People who want you present in their lives.”

He gave her a weak smile. He knew she was right and felt guilty for feeling that she was wrong.

“Can I go see your man-cave now?” she was beaming with excitement. Then a thought struck her. “Or do you have to be at work soon?”

He shrugged. “Cliff doesn’t mind if I come in later. It’s supposed to be a part-time job anyway. I just work full days to keep busy. I’ll send him a text to let him know.”

Drake paid for their breakfast and when they got up from the table, Melody went to him, and put her arms around his neck. It broke her heart to see him so unhappy, and she was grateful that he seemed better most days now. She liked to think that she had a hand in that. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him tenderly, softly, pouring all her love into it and into him. She debated in her head for a moment, but then decided what the hell. “I love you,” she said, smiling gently. Surprisingly, it felt natural to say it, even if they only knew each other for little more than a month.

It punched right to his gut and all the brick walls he’d built around his heart crumbled. And although he smiled, he looked as confused as he felt. It was a relief, because he’d realised that he loved her too, but at the same time he didn’t understand how she could love him. He noticed that his confused face was making her nervous.

“I love you too Mel,” he explained, “It’s just hard for me to accept that you’re able to love me. But I trust you. It feels natural for me to trust you, and coincidentally, to love you. I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

She beamed at him and embraced him, pulling him into a vicegrip like embrace and burying her face in his neck, in his rich masculine scent. “I can imagine how you must feel,” And it’s all your parents’ fault. “But your heart is safe with me, I promise.” She was absolutely beside herself that he felt the same way about her, and that was hard for him ignore.

He pulled her closer to him, so close that she could feel his bones. “That’s what it feels like. It feels nice. And yours is safe with me, too.”

She pulled away slowly to look into his eyes, those exquisite eyes like old gold. “Am I officially your girlfriend now?” She was all smiles as she asked the question, but on the inside she was wracked with nerves.

He grinned at her, his gaze soft, like he was caressing her with it. “Is that what you want?”

She swallowed and nodded bravely.

“Then consider yourself, officially, my girlfriend.”

It was a kind of relief to both of them. Now they belonged to each other. They were their own little bubble where they could share the boons of life together, and be sheltered from the harshness of the world by their love for each other. That’s how it felt to both of them, though they didn’t say it in so many words.