Page 18 of Enemies to Lobsters
Ike
August passes a box to me from the back of my truck, stacking it on top of the one I’m already holding. “Why aren’t you telling Mom and Dad? They’re going to hear about it sooner or later.” He hops down from the bed, sliding another box across the tailgate. “And Mom will be ticked.” He balances the box against his torso and we make our way to the shore.
“I called. They didn’t answer.” I only called once—not my most valiant effort at communication.
Our newly-retired parents are traveling the country via RV this summer. They’re calling the trip their second honeymoon because they want to be left alone.
Gross.
Their last known location was Niagara Falls, where they posted a photo of themselves making out on theMaid of the Mist. They went dark after that, thank goodness. But my stomach curdles when I think about the surprise waiting for them when they get home next month.
“I’ll explain it to them when they come back,” I say, adjusting the boxes in my arms. That will be a great time.
Hi. This is your new daughter-in-law, Diana. Yeah, the woman who hates me and ran over my mailbox. Put down the pitchfork, Mom.
My mom doesn’t care for Diana York, mostly because she knows Diana doesn’t care for me. Have I mentioned that I’m my mother’s favorite child? August can stuff it.
He doesn’t, though. We’re halfway to the island now—close enough for August’s obnoxious laughter to bounce off the lighthouse. “Don’t do that without me. I want to see Mom’s face when you tell her you married into the paper straw fortune.”
August is so full of it. Obviously, Diana didn’t invent paper straws. And if I understood the legal jargon on our contract correctly, I am entitled to exactly none of her fortune. I don’t need it. All I need is to fix up this lighthouse so we’re one step closer to getting Cape Georgeana in the black. “You know, your name came up on the list of potential husbands for Diana.”
My brother’s silence is telling. He stomps across the rocks, passing me. “Geez, did you pack your heaviest high heels in this one, sweetheart?”
“Oh, is that one box too much? I should’ve given you something you could handle, like the pillows. You gotta ease yourself into manual labor.” I only get away with my teasing because my older brother is kind of saintly. Exhibits A through C: He’s helping me move after a twelve hour shift at the county hospital, and he’s on call with the fire department tonight—not that they’ll get any calls. But still. The guy isn’t human.
August scoffs and we finish the short hike to the island. This is the first and only load of stuff I’m moving into the keeper’s house—a few boxes of clothing, shoes, and bare essentials. I’m not transferring my every belonging onto this salty little island. I’ll list my house on a short-term rental site, though. No point in letting it sit empty for a year. The only problem is no one is coming to Cape Georgeana on purpose. Yet.
We cut a path through the tall grass to the keeper’s house. It’s always windy over here, but it’s still hot and muggy under theverylate afternoon sun. The contract said I had to move onto the island the day of the wedding, and there’s still daylight. I wasn’t waiting until the last possible minute. I was packing. Did I drag my feet a little? Maybe. Besides, the place looks deserted. Mywifeis a no-show, as far as I can tell. I didn’t see her car in the parking area. I also wonder how long it will take me to stop putting air quotes around the word “wife.”
It’s like August reads my mind. “Where’s yourwife?” He also puts air quotes around the word. “Shouldn’t you be carrying her over the threshold right now?” He drops his box on the concrete steps, reaching for the doorknob.
“I dunno. And that wasn’t in the contract.” If she wanted that, her lawyer should’ve been more thorough. I prop my boxes on my knee to give my arms a break. Meanwhile, August is wrestling with the doorknob. “Is it stuck?”
He jiggles the key in the lock. “When was the last time someone came out here?”
I drop my boxes. “Let me try. Move over.”
“What? You have a trick for this eroded, antique lock?”
I bump him out of the way and try the key a few times, a few different ways. Yeah, it’s really stuck.
“Oh, you couldn’t get it? Surprising.”
My brother and I can’t go three seconds without harassing each other. I call it brotherly love. But something about his tone, combined with the fact that this is my wedding day, brings out the bull in me. “Stand back.”
August backs away from the door. I visually inspect the door frame, mostly to make sure I’m not about to make a fool of myself in front of my brother. I take a step back. Then with all of the force I can summon, I kick the door.
It doesn’t budge.
August doubles over, his hands on his knees. He’s laughing so hard no sound is escaping.
“Move your ugly butt back. I’m going to try again.”
He holds up a finger, his eyes pinched shut and his shoulders shaking. A deep belly laugh finally escapes.
“Move, or you’re spending the night out here. The tide’s coming in.”
“Oh man, I needed this,” he says with a breathless laugh, wiping the wetness under his eyes. But he moves further back with an obnoxious flourish. “Proceed.”
