Merit
San Francisco International Airport
Present Day
“All right, Mer, remember, no talking to strangers, and call me when you get there.” Abbey slaps me on the shoulder and then winces. “I’m sorry. I’m no good at this.” She pulls me in for an awkward and stiff hug. She whispers, “This is the right decision. It might not feel like it, but whatever you and Ryan need to work out, I think you’re getting a sign that it’s time to get in the weeds.”
I curl my lip. “Get in the weeds?”
“You know, like get to work.”
Eddie pulls me in for a side hug. He drove me to the airport since Abbey doesn’t drive. “We’ll be fine. Just go. Jesus H. Christ, family is family.”
“This isn’t a vacation,” I clarify. “This is an act of guilt, Eddie.”
I can’t believe I let my brother talk me into this. I haven’t spoken to Ryan, if I could help it, since the day I left Granite Harbor when I was eighteen. When he shattered my heart. So, maybe this isn’t an act of bravery. Maybe it’s stupidity.
Eddie’s silvery hair glimmers in the open light the airport provides. “Give ’em hell, Mer. Give ’em hell, sweetheart. And don’t let the octopus get you.” His eyebrows rise.
“The octopus?” I ask quizzically.
Eddie shrugs. “Means, don’t get wrapped up in it. Just ride it out. Those tentacles will let go eventually. You just need to slow down, ride it out.”
Of course, he uses an analogy like this.
Eddie doesn’t know the story. Neither does Abbey. Nobody does. Nobody needs to know. But, somehow, Eddie’s words slow my heart down a little bit, which allows me to breathe, expand my lungs.
“Remember to text me when you get there, Merit.” Abbey bites her thumbnail. “You’re flying all the way across the United States.”
“Abbs, I’ve taken the trip plenty of times.”
Her eyes grow shifty. “I know. I’m just nervous this time. I-I’m not sure why.”
“I’ll be fine.” I reach for her and whisper, “I’ll text you. Don’t worry.”
Though I’m not so sure I’m ready for all this.
What happened between Ryan and me changed us. It changed me. The only reason I’m doing this is for Eli’s and Alex’s sakes. To ease the burden for them. And Ryan, he’s so damn hardheaded. Nothing has changed since I left and yet everything has. Seventeen years. I’m thirty-five now. He’s thirty-four. Years and time have changed us. We aren’t the same people anymore.
I walk down the terminal and turn back to wave at my friends. Eddie in his board shorts and his white tank top with rough, leather brown skin, flip-flops, and a casual wave. Abbey in a sweatshirt and jeans, her flip-flops a hot pink, blonde hair in two braids down her back, chewing on her nail, and waving with her other hand.
I turn away and make my way to the 747 to Chicago, Illinois, and then on to Portland, Maine.
“Granite Harbor, be gentle,” I whisper as my stomach does a flip. Here’s to facing my past, my present, and my heart. “Please be gentle.”
It’s just after eight in the evening in Maine.
“I’m glad you came.” Eli rests his hand on the wheel.
“Sure glad one of us is.” I give him a sideways smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing my niece and sister-in-law.”
“Funny. You might want to think about kissing my ass because who’s going to take care of you when you’re old? Like feed you? As your brother, I’d assume this responsibility, so if you want to eat …” His voice trails off as he looks out the window.
I allow this to get under my skin. I know Eli means nothing by it. He doesn’t know why his words cut through me.
I’m in my thirties, and I don’t have children.
“Hey! I found a shortcut.” Eli hangs a left somewhere between Portland and Granite Harbor. A road I’m unfamiliar with.
I roll my eyes. “You know, game wardens always think they know a shortcut. And then it ends up being twice as long. So, really, you mean, detour.”
“No, really, it’s a shortcut.”
“Yep. We’ll see.”
“There’s something else.” Eli scratches the back of his head, and his eyebrows rise. He stares out the window.
“Oh, God. That’s not a good start, E. What?” I sigh.
“Well, Ryan doesn’t know you’re coming.”
I freeze. “What? Are you kidding me, E? You brought me home to babysit him, and you didn’t tell him I was coming?” You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
“Come on, Mer. You know Ryan. He’ll shut down like a brick wall. First, he’ll be pissed at me for asking you. Then, he’ll be pissed at the world. Embarrassed. I figured, if you just showed up at his doorstep, he wouldn’t be able to shut the door in your face. He needs help, Merit.”
“I get that. You’ve made that quite clear.” Cannot believe I’m in this spot right now. I shake my head. “Where’s he live now?”
Eli coughs into his fist. “Just outside of Hallowell.”
My eyes grow big. “Are you kidding me, Eli? That’s an hour commute to Granite Harbor—one way!” I grit my teeth. “Oh my God! I’m expected to stay there with him?”
“He’s got a big enough house. He sleeps downstairs anyway. Besides, Pop or I can come get you when you need a break.”
“Oh, yeah, like I’m going to make you do that with a new baby and a new wife at home.”
I’m so pissed right now that I close my eyes and let my head fall back to the headrest. Eli has no idea what happened to us, Ryan and me. I’d like to keep it that way. He has no idea what Ryan said to me that night. What he asked me to do. So, to Eli, this is no big deal. He also knows Ryan and I haven’t been the same since I left for college that night, but he doesn’t know my heart broke.
“Just take me to Ryan’s. I’ll figure it out from there.” And, as his name slides between my lips, I push any feelings that come up to my throat down. Bury them. I grow sick to my stomach, and my face turns to fire. I roll down the window and welcome the warm summer night air on my face.
“Mer, I’m just not sure how to help him.”
I know what Eli is feeling. It’s the same way we felt when we were kids. We couldn’t help Ryan. But could we have? We could have told someone. We should have. And we didn’t.
We drive and curve with the road as if we were an extension. As if we were part of it.
Down a dirt road that will most likely be a mud pit in the spring, we pull up to Ryan’s house. It’s two stories from what I can see from the headlights. I’ve always known Ryan would do better for himself despite his upbringing. I think, deep down, he knew what he didn’t have and it wasn’t right. What he had to go without.
Eli and I get out of the truck, and Eli grabs my suitcase. The one he’ll take into Ryan’s house. The one that is supposed to stay in a room where I’ll sleep. In a bed that is not mine. In a place I’m unfamiliar with.
I have no business being here. Panic sets in my chest. Panic and unrequited love. Love I had for a boy who isn’t the same boy. Love I had for a boy who seemed unaffected by the words that I spoke that night so many years ago. A man who changed. A man who changed me.
There are twelve steps leading up to the porch.
Twelve steps in which I have the ability to turn around. Tell my brother no. Tell him and Alex that they’re on their own.
But I can’t. My heart won’t allow it.
Not this time.
Eli opens the door.
I hold my breath.
My heart beats against my chest.
Eli pushes the door open. “Yo, Ryan, where are you?” He sets my suitcase down in the entryway. A dining room sits just off to the left.
“Living room,” he calls as the television grows quiet.
Shit.
Ryan probably thinks my brother is on duty and just stopping by to check on him.
SportsCenter blares on the television as Eli takes the lead.
My heart still hammering against my chest, I try to draw in some big, deep breaths.
It’s been seventeen years.
Not since I’ve seen him. I last saw him in May when Emily, my niece and Eli’s daughter, was born. But I didn’t have to interact with him. Always a group of people around us. Never alone. Although he’s made several attempts to reach out, I just couldn’t go there.
So, when I come around the corner, his eyes are on the television.
“Did you hear Richards got traded?” Ryan says to Eli as his head slowly turns.
But, instead of my brother’s eyes, he meets mine.
A lot of time passes. I’m not sure how much, but it seems like the sun rises and sets, all in a matter of minutes. The same man as when he was eighteen stares back. The same boy as when he was sixteen stares back. Fifteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven. Ten. Nine. And six. His stormy, dark eyes.
Eli coughs to break up the silence. “Merit came to help you. Knew you wouldn’t take any help from us. But Mer came.”
Still, silence.
And the only light in the room is from the television.
“Okay.” My brother looks to me. “Call me?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Ryan, let her help,” Eli says to his best friend.
Ryan doesn’t answer.
When Eli leaves, there’s nothing but loud static between us.
“You can sit,” he says.
I walk over to the dark brown leather couch that sits against the far wall of the living room. Ryan’s eyes break away from mine, so he’s watching television again, and I sit.
Though I don’t think he’s really watching.
I take him in. All six foot four of him. Same broad, muscly chest that reflects a lot of gym activity. Protruding long jaw that’s flexed right now. His neck, thick like his thighs. His clean-shaven head that matches his face. Big arms and hands. The unchanged hands that touched my breasts, the same mouth that touched mine. The same body that took my virginity all those years ago and left me like a puddle on the floor. The same body that has cursed mine for years. Ruined me for all other men.
One of his arms is in a sling that’s stuck to his middle. I assume it’s for his shoulder. He tries to move but grimaces.
“Sore?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
His head snaps to me. “I’m fine.”
“When’s the last time you took your pain medication?” I know he probably hasn’t. Knowing where he comes from. Knowing what the little white pills of death did to his father.
“Why are you here, Merit?”
Stay the course, Mer. Stay the course.
“Because you need me.” My voice reflects an unrecognized confidence.
Ryan stares at me for a long time, mulling over his thoughts, wanting to spit some out.
I stare back.
In this moment, unspoken words are exchanged. Ones of love. Ones of anger. Hurt. Sadness.
“I don’t need your charity,” he finally says. “I’ll be just fine.” He adjusts himself in his recliner, wincing once more.
“I don’t need your attitude. Besides, I get it. You’re a grown man. You don’t need a woman to take care of you. But, for the record, I’m not here for you; I’m here for my brother and Alex.”
A tinge of a smile starts to form in the corners of his mouth, and he almost laughs, but it fades quickly as he groans and puts his face down, so I can’t see his pain. Something he’s been doing since childhood.
Ryan Taylor wears many masks, I remind myself.
I stand and walk past his chair. “You threw the pain medication away, didn’t you?”
Ryan face is still in his lap.
“Goddamn it, Ryan. You don’t have to play tough guy all the time. Where’s your trash?”
When the pain subsides, he speaks again, “Under the sink. Kitchen.”
I walk into the kitchen and flip on the light. Then, I grab the trash can from underneath the sink.
Eli was right.
“This is exactly why Eli called me, Ryan. You’re so damn stubborn,” I call back into the living room.
Sifting through the trash, I find the bright orange bottle of pain pills. I find another one for stool softeners and chuckle to myself.
This will keep him humble, I think.
I put the trash can back underneath the sink and wash my hands. I get a glass of water, grab the bottle of pain pills, and head back into the living room. I sit down on the couch and read the instructions.
Take one to two pills every four hours.
“I take it, you haven’t taken any of these?”
He shakes his head.
I give him two pain pills and hand him the water.
“Mer—”
“Ryan,” I say in a cool voice, “I just need you to shut up and take the damn pills.”
He hesitates for a few seconds. Then, he throws them in his mouth and takes the water down. “Happy now?”
“This isn’t my problem, Ryan. This is yours. I’m just the warden to enforce it.”
He clicks off the television, so the moon lights up the living room.
The tree frogs and crickets are louder now. They converse, and I welcome the darkness to my eyes as I lean back on Ryan Taylor’s couch.
“Can we talk about that night, Violet?” he asks.
I flinch. Don’t use that name, Ryan. You know what it means, I want to say. But I don’t. “Not if you want me to stay.”