Page 1 of Saving Barrette

June

Boston Harbor, Washington

I’ve never liked Washington. Rain, cold, clouds, wind… it’s fucking depressing. At least the summers are enjoyable. I prefer my home town of Massillon, Ohio. And though this small-town of Boston Harbor could be considered my home, too, it’s not really. I only lived here for six years.

The only reminder or appeal this place holds are the summers. Blue sky, soaring pine trees, and this marina. The one where I met a girl. It always goes back to a girl, doesn’t it?

I look out the window to the marina and I can still pinpoint the exact place I met her, between the docks where my dad moored his boat. On the water, kayaks, paddleboards, and boats litter the marina. Amongst them, my dad’s forty-foot Fly Absolute yacht stands out.

Way to blend in, Dad.

Laughter floats through the marina, its sound carrying through the open window in my room. I draw in another deep breath. I don’t want to be here, but I also don’t have much of a choice.

Sighing, I look around my bedroom. Not much has changed since I left, but then again, everything has changed. Boxes line the wall, my suitcase on the bed and in it, hundreds of memories that didn’t take place in this town. On my nightstand, a picture of a girl I used to know. The one with haunting blue eyes and a smile that never quite touched them. It’s there at times but held at bay for reasons I never did find out.

For the past four years, I’ve thought about her every single day. It’s not an exaggeration either. I think about her now, since I’ve been back in this town for only hours. It’s constant, the memories that is and the pull to see her; it’s stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s so bad that just the idea of her sends my pulse racing and my breathing erratic.

Roman: Dude, get here! We’re at my mom’s house. I’m savin’ ya a ho.

What the fuck does that mean? A ho? Roman’s always been the wild child of the group. I’m not even sure I can say group, because when you up and leave two days before high school starts, and return two days after you graduate, you’re not part of any group. You’re the guy who left. The one who abandoned them.

Part of me knows I shouldn’t go, because I know what happens at those parties—they drink and do stupid shit. But when have I ever listened to myself? Never.

“I’m headin’ out for a bit,” I tell my dad, searching the counter for my keys.

One look at my dad and I can tell you right now that’s not what he wants to hear. I don’t know him very well anymore so I can’t tell you exactly what he’s thinking, but I’m guessing by the hard lines forming across his face, he’s not happy.

He raises an eyebrow as if to say “Are you serious?”

“Fuck you” is what I want to say. I’m eighteen. I don’t have to do anything he says, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that argument just yet. Maybe save it for my second day home.

“You just got home,” he reminds me, screwing on the cap to his water bottle. My dad is a health nut. Protein shakes, cross-fit, runs at least three-to-five miles every day and probably hasn’t had sugar in over a decade. His body portrays the physically fit condition with lean, defined muscles and veins protruding from his forearms. “Besides, Carlin is on her way home with Livia. I thought we could go for a boat ride. Water’s calm tonight.”

Ah, yes. Do you see what he’s doing here? The dad who abandoned his family and decided to get a new one is making an effort. One day back and I’m supposed to fall into his perfect family life he’s created. The one where cancer doesn’t reside and nothing but perfection exists. That shit, it’s not reality. It’s superficial. It’s a dream, and one day his dream is going to come crashing down on him.

I shrug one shoulder and reach for my keys. “I’m sure I’ll see them eventually.” Or maybe I’ll spend the next month until I move up to Seattle avoiding them.

There’s a thought.

“I thought maybe we could get some dinner.” And then he glances away and to the bottle of water, then to his cell phone next to it. “Carlin wanted to meet up with us.”

“I’m not hungry,” I snap, hating the mention of her name.

Dad sighs. He doesn’t say anything and I know why. He’s pissed off at me. There’s one thing Dr. Brent Lawson doesn’t like. His plans not going his way. I love my dad, but as a man, I have very little respect for him. My reasoning?

He left my mother when she needed him the most. And now he thinks just because my mom is dead, I’m gonna treat Carlin—his mistress—as if she’s my mother now.

She’s not. My mom was the best woman in the world. The dirt covering her grave is still fresh, and he thinks I’m suddenly gonna want a new mother. I don’t fucking think so. It doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t get to play this game with me. Not now, not ever.

My dad sighs, again. “Asa, I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine. I’m just going out for a bit.”

He slides his hand through his hair. “I know you say you’re fine, but I don’t think you are.” He frowns at my expression. “You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t know what you mean.” If he says her name, I think I’ll scream.

The chiseled lines of his face are etched with an emotion I don’t understand. Closing his eyes, he draws in a breath and then shakes his head, looking down. “Your mom died, and you got arrested at her funeral.”

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