Merit
Granite Harbor, Maine
Present Day
“Who was that guy?”
“Don’t know.” Ryan looks behind his shoulder as we drive past Dubbs’s place.
I look in the rearview mirror, and the man on the porch with Dubbs is still staring back at us.
“Dubbs elaborate on who he owed money to?”
The anger is beginning to build in my stomach—and not for Ryan, but for Dubbs. How could he have asked his son to give him five thousand dollars? I guess for the same reason he can push a lit cigarette to his own son’s skin.
Ryan finally turns to face forward. “He looks somewhat familiar.”
“Is the pain coming back?”
“I’m good,” he says, carefully pulling out his phone from his pocket. He sucks in another deep breath.
I roll my eyes. “Ryan, stop playing tough guy with me. It’s me, Merit. Remember? I saw your penis when you were five while you peed behind a tree, right in front of me.”
Ryan freezes. Turns his head to look at me. And then starts laughing. “That’s right. I forgot about that.”
“Yeah, you thought I was just one of the guys until you realized that I didn’t have a penis. That was a sad day.”
It wasn’t really sad. But it was a milestone in our relationship. Having a brother, I knew the difference between boys and girls. Ryan didn’t at that age—or at least the anatomy part of it anyway. I know, too, that Dubbs didn’t explain sex to Ryan and that he probably learned about sex from school and his dad’s porn collection. Maybe.
We pull into Ryan’s driveway in Hallowell an hour later, and I decide I’m not going to ask him if he needs help to the house because I know he’s sore for waiting too long to take the pain medication. He needs to know what that feels like.
I grab the bag of groceries in the back, and it makes me think of Ryan’s dog, Hero, and the night he came to my window in tears. Because Dubbs had killed Hero. He never mentioned it again after that night. I never did either. I’d never seen Ryan cry. I was seventeen, and he was sixteen. That was the night we kissed for the first time. I don’t know if Ryan ever got permission to cry. So, I held him against my chest, and I told him it was all right to cry. It was when his lips touched my chest. At first, I thought it was his tears. But his lips slowly moved from my chest to my mouth. It was my first kiss. As if he’d been practicing, he was slow, patient, and he made my whole body tingle.
He explored my breasts that were full and waiting. My lips knew what to do, as if they’d been waiting for his mouth for a long, long time. When my nipples grew hard, he sighed and explained that we needed to stop. I should have stopped. But I was too selfish that night. I shouldn’t have been, but I was.
“Earth to Merit.” I hear Ryan say.
“What?”
“Where’d you go?”
He’s at the front door, and I’m still standing at the side of the truck, groceries in hand.
I feel my face grow hot.
Never in my life since that night have I felt such a strong connection to someone.
“Nowhere.” I walk up to the porch, trying to push the butterflies from my stomach.
I stare at his mouth and then his broad shoulders, his chest. The parts of him that grew bigger since that night when he was sixteen. New parts that I can’t help but wonder about.
He takes his finger and gently moves my chin to meet his gaze. “What were you thinking about?” Now, he’s asking me out of concern, and he shouldn’t be concerned.
“Did you ever get a dog after Hero?”
His fingers stay put; he doesn’t budge. “Just haven’t felt the need.” He’s lying.
I know he’s scared of heartbreak again. So, he knows how I feel.
Ryan moves his fingers from my chin to the side of my face and runs his thumb against my cheek. I try to keep my face stoic, unattached, and not emotionally vested. My head screams at me to pull away. Though my heart says otherwise.
I look away from him and out across the empty field in front of his house. “Time you get a dog, Taylor.”
“I’ll get a dog when you let me back in,” he whispers.
My heart seizes. “I’m looking out for you.” I whip my head back to him.
Ryan’s phone rings, allowing us some space. I push through the door as he picks up his phone and follows me inside.
“Taylor.” He’s quiet, his big body standing in the doorway.
I steal a glance backward.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it from my purse. It’s a text from Abbey.
Abbey: Okay, so I just need to be sure that you have haven’t been kidnapped and that you’re still alive. Haven’t heard from you. Sarcasm intended.
She ends with the eye-roll emoji.
I smile and text her back.
Me: Still alive. Sorry. How are you guys?
Abbey: Good. Eddie is driving me crazy. Making me come to work on time. Says, since you’re not here, I need to be more accountable. Like adult and shit.
Me: How is the old man?
Abbey: Ornery. More important stuff … how’s Ryan?
Me: Good.
Abbey: Um … do I need to pick up the phone and call you? These one-worded answers aren’t getting me anywhere.
I laugh to myself and look up, only to find Ryan staring at me.
“What?” The hotness races to my face.
“Your cheeks will always give you away, Mer. Always. They’re red.”
I set my phone facedown and decide to text her later. “Who called?” I start to put the groceries away.
“Eli.” He walks to the bag and grabs the bacon. He winces again because he moved in a way that he shouldn’t have.
I reach for his pain medication.
“I’m good, Mer.”
Taking one pill from the bottle, I also pour him a glass of water. “When’s the last time we ate?”
“This morning.” He slowly shuts the refrigerator.
“Sit down.”
“Mer—”
“Ryan, I’m not here to debate this with you. I’m here to help and to keep your ass in line. You need to get better, and fighting this inner struggle you have, this tough guy image, doesn’t fucking fly with me. Got it?”
I think Ryan appreciates that I’m the only one, aside from Eli, who can knock down the wall he tries to keep up. But, by the same token, I think he also gets irritated that I know him so well.
Ryan eases down to the barstool, and I hand him one pill and some water.
He stares me down.
I cross my arms and stare back.
He takes the pill after the awkward silence and washes it down with the water.
“Look, Ryan,” I whisper, “I know you struggle with your demons. That, somehow, taking a pill or drinking more than two beers will allow you to slip into someone you’re not. But you’re not him. You’re not Dubbs. Okay?”
He doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t look at me either.
“How come we get to talk about me and my fucked up childhood and the lasting effects, but we can’t talk about the one thing that’s keeping you from staying here?”
I wonder what he means by the word here. Here as in this house? Or here as in Maine? Or maybe he means him. I loved Granite Harbor. I loved Maine. But, that night, I wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this place as possible. The feelings I associated with the place where I had grown up turned cold, bitter. Angry. But Ryan’s asked me a question. It needs answering. I can deflect. I can. I can push it off me and back to him. Why? Because I’m scared as hell.
“I’m not here for me, Ryan.”
“Why do you deflect?”
Because it’s easier.
“Why have you slept with so many women?” The hurt starts to pour in.
Push away, Merit, or this will get ugly.
I know why. Did I ask it because I want him to acknowledge it? Did I ask it, so he’d know I knew? Who doesn’t know?
A big gust of air pushes past his lips. He rubs his bald head with his good hand. His broad shoulders and chest move in unison as he takes another breath and looks up at me, wanting to answer the question honestly.
“Hello?” my brother’s voice calls out.
Ryan’s stare is hard. His hand drops from his head to the counter.
“Hello, little brother,” I say as Eli comes around the corner to the kitchen in uniform.
Ryan turns, too. “That was quick.”
“In the area.” Eli shrugs and walks to the refrigerator.
“You hungry?” I glance at the clock. It’s just after four thirty.
“Starving.”
I get out the fixings to make two sandwiches as Eli pulls up a chair next to Ryan.
Just like old times.
“So, you’ve seen the guy before?” Eli asks as I slide an ice water to him. “Thanks, Mer.”
“He looks familiar, E. And it wasn’t just a familiarity. His face was burned into my memory.” Ryan scrolls through his phone. “Googled Maine booking photos.”
“Did you ask your dad?” Eli sets down his water as I pass him and Ryan sandwiches.
“Thanks,” they say in unison.
I don’t do well with sitting still, so I grab the bell pepper, canned potatoes, and the onion and begin to chop as I listen.
“Yeah, texted him, and he hasn’t texted me back yet.”
“So, he saw you guys pass by his house?” Eli asks, his eyes darting from mine to Ryan’s.
“Both of them saw us. Dubbs knew it was us.”
“And you gave him five grand?” Eli clarifies.
Ryan shrugs. “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid. Like I just handed five thousand dollars to a stranger.” He looks between Eli and me. “He’s my dad.”
We don’t ask where Ryan got the money. We know. He’s been a saver since we were kids. He got a job as a bagger at Granite Harbor Grocery when he was fourteen. He asked Eli to keep his paychecks for him. Said it wasn’t safe to keep them at his house.
I’ll never forget, one day, we walked into the grocery store in search of ice cream on a humid summer day, and the manager, Mr. Pete, pulled Ryan aside and asked about the uncashed paychecks.
Ryan shrugged. “I just don’t need the money yet.”
Ryan looks down at his phone after it vibrates, and his jaw clenches. “Says he’s not sure of the guy’s name.”
I tilt my head and stop chopping. “Dubbs was just seen on his front porch, handing this dude five thousand dollars in a sack that you had given him, and he doesn’t know his name?” I shake my head and continue chopping. “Liar.”
Eli takes another sip of water and sets his glass back down. “What if Dubbs doesn’t want you to know his name?”
“That’s a given, Eli.” Ryan laughs.
“No, I mean—and don’t get me wrong; Dubbs is a fucking asshole. That doesn’t change—what if he doesn’t want you to know because, in a weird fucked up way, he’s protecting you?”
I hold the knife out. “The guy who used to take cigarettes to his own son’s body is protecting him?” I laugh. “I highly doubt that.”
“What other reason would Dubbs not tell Ryan the guy’s name, Mer?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want Ryan to know because he’s embarrassed, as he should be, that he had to ask his own son for money,” I say.