Drift Away nb-4 Read online

  I adjusted the backpack on my shoulders and scanned the parking lot. We were alone in the dimming sun and suffocating heat. I took a deep breath, trying to release the anger inside me. I felt nothing-no remorse, no sorrow, no guilt-for what I’d done to him. I knew that wasn’t a good thing, that it could take over in a fraction of a second and I’d end up doing more than just hurting him. Just like I’d done with Keene.

  I tugged on the straps of the backpack and looked down at him. He was curled up in the fetal position. He’d need a cast and he’d be sore, but he’d be alright. Well and dumb enough to bother me again, most likely.

  I walked away from him, leaving him there on the pavement, and hoped he would prove me wrong.

  FIVE

  I crossed the sand-covered street into the neighborhoods, across from the condos and hotels. Fort Walton Beach was a narrow strip of land sandwiched between the Gulf of Mexico to the south and a curving, twisting bay to the north. The neighborhoods were a combination of low-slung bungalows and newer homes that had been built on lots where bungalows had been torn down. Most of the front yards consisted of sand and rock, almost like a desert, but the newer homes-the ones with money-paid a pretty penny for irrigated lawns.

  The residents were a mish-mash, just like the homes themselves-some had been there forever, some showed up just for the cooler months. Working class locals co-mingled with the nouveau riche.

  I walked several blocks in until I was one street off the bay. I stopped at the last house on the cul-de-sac, a two-story structure in various stages of renovation. The driveway was a dirt path, staked for the concrete that Ike said was being poured the next day. The yard was dead weeds and cracked soil. Trenching it for sprinklers was going to be a chore.

  Ike was the contractor on the house, a jack of all trades. I helped out around the property and supervised the subs when he wasn’t around in exchange for a place to stay. The partially-converted garage space I was living in would eventually become half of a bedroom in the massive remodel.

  I walked around the dug-up drive toward the side of the house, fished for the key in my backpack and opened the side door to the garage.

  The stale, pent-up heat slammed into me like an explosion. I left the door open in a feeble attempt to filter some of it out. The floor was concrete, a dirty, threadbare area rug hiding oil stains and grease marks. An empty workbench ran the length of one wall, a twin-sized cot pushed up against another. The small stash of clothing I’d accumulated was stacked neatly next to it. A small fridge and microwave stood next to the garage door, the opener having been disengaged. Stacks of boxes rested against the opposite wall, along with a small assortment of power tools. A shower and toilet were in the hallway that connected the garage to the house. The work sink was new and clean and I used it to wash the sand and beach from my face.

  It wasn’t my home. It was shelter.

  I didn’t have a home any longer, nor did I want one. I wasn’t even sure I needed one. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be in Fort Walton. I knew that at any moment, I could be gone. By my choice or someone else’s.

  And I wasn’t sure I cared.

  The cool water stung my skin as the grit and sweat fell away into the basin. I toweled off and walked back outside.

  I zig-zagged through the bushes and various piles of dirt, toward the back of the property. The lot backed to the bay and the water was deserted in the late afternoon heat. I trudged through the dead grass to the small strip of sand that buffeted the land from the water and sat down.

  “I miss you,” I said to Liz, staring out at the water.

  I’d been doing this every day since I’d arrived in Fort Walton. Pretty much every day since she’d been killed. There was a vacancy in my life that didn’t feel like it would ever leave. I knew she was gone, but it was hard to accept that.

  So I talked to her.

  “It’s hot,” I said out loud, picking at the brown grass. “Not like San Diego. You wouldn’t like it.”

  Liz hated the oppressive heat. Claimed she couldn’t live anywhere other than San Diego. Her hair wouldn’t accept it.

  “I got in a fight today.” I watched the water shimmer. “I’m sorry.”

  A flock of birds flew overhead and I glanced up, squinting into the sun.

  “If you were here, I wouldn’t have,” I said. “I would’ve walked away.”

  That was true. She would’ve touched my elbow, pulled me away, whispered in my ear. Diffused me. It was what she did. What she used to do. When she was alive.

  I no longer had that.

  “Haven’t heard from Carter in awhile,” I said. “I hope he’s okay.”

  I knew it was good that I hadn’t heard from him. It meant there was nothing I needed to know about.

  But it was also uncomfortable.

  Liz and Carter had been the two constants in my life for longer than I could remember. The two pillars I could lean on.

  And now there was no one.

  I tossed the dead blades of grass into the air and watched them blow away, fluttering in the breeze and landing in the water, riding the ripples out into the bay.

  “I hope you’re okay,” I said, the same words I said every day to her. “I’m sorry, Liz.”

  And then the memories swarmed me, like always, moths to an inextinguishable flame.

  Making the wrong decision, worrying about my mother when I should’ve been worried about Liz. Rushing to her house, knowing what I was going to encounter. Finding her body, motionless, lifeless. Holding her, begging for her to come back. Knowing it was my father who had set it all in motion.

  Tears stung my eyes, blurred my vision, but they couldn’t wash the memories away. Time didn’t heal wounds, I’d discovered. Because the ache and pain I felt gnawed at me, grew bigger every day.

  “I love you,” I said, my voice a ragged whisper.

  I sat there for awhile longer, thinking about her, missing her.

  Like every other day.

  SIX

  The car idling in front of the house froze me.

  I hated living with paranoia, but it was my own doing. Everywhere I looked, everywhere I went, it felt like someone was looking at me. Like they knew me. Like they knew what I’d done.

  Like they were about to make a phone call.

  It was paralyzing at times. But I couldn’t make it go away.

  So the car stopped me in my tracks and every single worst-case scenario ran through my head in a matter of seconds.

  The woman from the beach leaned across the passenger seat of an almost-ancient Honda Accord and smiled at me. “Noah, is it?”

  Goosebumps formed on my arms. I tried to never use my name and anytime I heard it out loud, I thought I’d made a mistake.

  “Jackson told me,” she said. “He said that was your name.”

  I saw movement in the tinted window at the back of the car and I could make out a small hand waving at me.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s Noah.”

  She cut the engine and got out of the car.

  “Did Ike tell you where I lived?” I said, already mentally packing my things. I was irritated. He knew I didn’t want people to know where I was, no matter what.

  The woman looked puzzled. “Who’s Ike?” She shook her head. “No. We saw you leaving the parking lot, crossing the highway. I couldn’t catch you.” She paused. “Then I saw you walk out to the water. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

  I wondered if she’d gotten out of her car and heard me talking to Liz.

  “Oh,” I said.

  She pushed the brown wisps of hair off her forehead. “I just wanted to say thank you. Again. For bringing Jackson to me.”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve never left him,” she said. “I don’t want you thinking I’m a bad mom-”

  I cut her off. “I don’t.”

  “It’s just…” She bit her lip as she thought about what to say. “I had some stuff to take care of. Stuff he didn’t need to see. And he was playing. I did
n’t think I’d be gone more than a minute or two.”

  “It’s fine,” I told her. “You don’t have to explain. He was fine. No harm done.”

  She nodded. “Anyway, I wanted to buy you dinner or something. As a real way to say thanks. And to apologize for having to deal with Colin.”

  “No need,” I said. “Really.”

  She glanced back at the car, then back at me. “I know he’s an asshole,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry for the hassle.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “He was still lying in the parking lot when we saw you crossing the highway,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Whatever he did, I’m sure he deserved it,” she said.

  I shrugged.

  She held out her hand. “I’m Bella, by the way.”

  I shook her hand. “Noah.”

  She smiled. “Jackson said you had an ark.”

  “I don’t,” I said. “I wouldn’t know how to build one.”

  She nodded and looked past me. “You live here?”

  I hesitated. “Yeah.”

  We stood there quietly for a few moments. I’d never been uncomfortable around people. But that was before. Bella was nice, but it didn’t change the fact that I was hiding.

  “So,” she finally said. “Could I please buy you dinner?”

  “You really don’t have to.”

  She blinked. “Jackson would really like it. He said you were nice to him.”

  On cue, the back window rolled down and he poked his head out.

  “Do you like hamburgers?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Me too,” he said, grinning. “But not the ones with tomatoes on them. Those are bad.”

  “I’m with you,” I said, unable to ignore his smile. “Those are bad.”

  “Come eat with us,” he said, his hands grasping the door. “Please?”

  My stomach bounced. I didn’t like being out in public and I really wasn’t crazy about the idea of talking to strangers. But they weren’t strangers anymore. They had names…and they knew mine.

  I glanced back at the house and my space in the garage. I could say no and slip back inside. But I knew what would be waiting for me there. Suffocating air and memories of Liz.

  I looked at Bella. “Let me go grab a shirt.”

  SEVEN

  The hamburger place was attached to a carwash.

  Bella drove east down the highway and into the larger tourist area of Destin. Where Fort Walton was quieter, a bit more local, Destin seemed as if it had been created specifically for people to visit. Massive, high-rise condominium complexes lined the Gulf Shore, with scores of chain restaurants and shops sandwiched in between.

  Jackson kept up the chatter the entire drive, calling out the names of the hotels and condos as we passed each one. I cracked the window and leaned toward the door, letting the warm air hit me in the face as we drove. Bella didn’t complain.

  When she turned into the parking lot, I was confused.

  “This is a restaurant?” I asked.

  She pointed at the bright red sign. “Tops. It’s just a drive-up place. I know. It’s goofy. Attached to the self-serve carwash. But it’s good. Trust me.”

  “Yeah!” Jackson said. “It’s awesome!”

  He was already out of his seatbelt and opening the door as Bella pulled into a parking slot. He bolted from the car and attached himself to one of the small tables outside the car wash.

  She smiled at him as she pulled out the key. “Can you tell he likes it? Unless we eat at my work, this is the only place we go.”

  I nodded and got out.

  “Come sit with me!” Jackson yelled.

  “Go ahead,” Bella said. “I’ll order. Burger, fries and a drink is good? And no tomatoes, right?”

  I smiled. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  She walked over to the small window to order and I sat down on the metal chair across from Jackson.

  “Have you eaten here before?” he asked, getting up on his knees and setting his hands on the table.

  “Nope. But I guess you have.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. It’s better than McDonald’s.”

  “Better than your mom’s restaurant?”

  “Well, it’s free at work, so it’s kinda different,” he said, tracing his finger aimlessly on the table top.

  He was savvy for such a young kid.

  I liked him.

  The heavy traffic buzzed by on the highway, pushing waves of thick, humid air in our direction. The condos on the other side blocked my view of the Gulf.

  “Do you have any kids?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “How come?”

  I shifted in the chair. “Well, I’m not married.”

  He squinted at me. “My mom’s not married.”

  Again. Savvy.

  “I guess I just haven’t met someone I wanna have kids with.” I swallowed against the lump that suddenly formed in my throat.

  He nodded like that made sense. “Do you like Spongebob?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at his pin-balling between subjects. “I do like Spongebob.”

  “Maybe you could watch with me sometime?”

  “Sure.”

  Bella returned to the table with a red plastic tray overflowing with food. Jackson bounced with excitement as she pulled his burger and fries from the bag. He unwrapped the burger and took as big of a bite as his tiny mouth would allow.

  She laughed. “He’s not one for waiting.”

  “He’s hungry.”

  She set my food in front of me. “He’s always hungry. Eats like a piranha. I think all boys do. Little ones, anyway.”

  Jackson continued to devour the burger, oblivious to her words.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” I said. “But thank you.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Again. For helping Jackson. And for the parking lot stuff.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant. Was she thanking me for bringing Jackson to her? For breaking Colin’s finger? I didn’t want to ask.

  Bella took a bite of her hamburger and stared at me while she chewed.

  It unnerved me. “What?”

  “There are all these stories about you,” she said. “Out on the beach. Because you aren’t from here. All us locals notice when someone new shows up. And then love to run our mouths.”

  I felt the slight stab of panic I always felt when someone alluded to the fact that I was drawing attention of any kind. “Oh yeah?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said, folding the paper around the sandwich. “I’ve heard all sorts of things about you.”

  “Like?”

  She took a small bite and thought for a moment. “That you’re in the witness protection program. That you’re homeless. That you’re from New York. That you can’t swim.”

  The panic subsided. “Ah.”

  She set the sandwich down. “I didn’t say people around here were smart.”

  I laughed and wiped at my mouth with a napkin. The burger was good. Far better than McDonald’s.

  “I heard you were an alien,” Jackson said, ketchup dripping down his chin.

  “Not an alien, I promise,” I said.

  “Darn,” he said. “I wanted to see your spaceship.”

  “Just eat, Jackson,” Bella said, shaking her head. “And just so you know, I don’t care and I’m not looking for an answer. I just thought you should know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But I find it hard to believe you can’t swim. Working on a beach and all.”

  I shrugged but didn’t answer. I stayed away from the water, so I could see how people might get that impression. I could swim. I just chose not to.

  “What restaurant do you work at?” I asked, looking to change the subject to anything but me.

  She made a face. “Stupid seafood place up the highway. Tourist trap.”

  “Been there awhile?”

  She took anot
her bite of the sandwich and squinted into the sun. “Six months, I think? Seems like forever. But it’s a job and I need one.” She motioned at her son. “He eats like a gorilla.”

  Jackson licked ketchup off his fingers, then grabbed another handful of fries.

  “I gotta start looking for something else, though,” she said.

  “Why’s that?”

  She took a long sip from her drink. “Just to make ends meet.” She glanced at me. “It’s only part-time and money’s tight. We’re okay, but I don’t like that it’s so tight.”

  I nodded. “Where does he go when you’re working?”

  “During the school year, I work during the day when he’s in school. During the summer, he comes with me,” she said, frowning. “I can’t afford daycare and I don’t really want him going to one. My manager is cool. She lets me set him up in a back booth and he’s pretty good.” She smiled. “Actually, he’s really good.”

  Jackson lifted up the fry bag and emptied the last few into his mouth.

  “What did Colin want, Mommy?” he asked, out of the blue.

  “Except when he asks questions,” Bella muttered, her cheeks flushing a little. Louder, she said, “Nothing, Jax. We just needed to talk.”

  “About what?” I asked.

  The blush deepened and she looked away. “Nothing, really.”

  It wasn’t any of my business. I knew that. But I couldn’t help looking at Jackson and feeling that a kid like that didn’t belong anywhere within a hundred miles of that asshole in the parking lot. And if he was asking questions, there was something going on. Something a hell of a lot bigger than nothing.

  “It didn’t seem like nothing,” I said.

  “He won’t bother you again,” she said quickly. She wadded up the empty sandwich wrapper and dropped it in the paper bag. “I promise.”

  “I don’t need you to promise that,” I said. “I can handle him. But it seemed like more than nothing.”

  She set her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands, staring at her son as he tossed pieces of the hamburger bun to birds on the walk. I finished my food and sat there quietly, watching both of them.

  “It isn’t nothing,” she finally said. “But sometimes, we have to do things we don’t want to do. Because we have to. Because there aren’t a whole lot of other options. That make any sense?”