At the Water's Edge Read Online Free
Author: Harper Bliss
live close by. Between them, they’ve already given her seven grandchildren, with an eighth on the way. It’s only natural for her to talk about her offspring in a light tone, laughter in her voice, pride glittering in her eyes. As she does, it’s as if I can see a sheen of bitterness coat itself around my mother’s skin. It’s not as much envy, I think, as the loss of something she never even experienced. Something that could potentially brighten up her days.
And I know it’s not my fault—Dr. Hakim and I have covered this extensively—but the guilt still nags at me. It’s there, showing up faithfully, every time I walk into this house.
Every time Aunt Mary wants to ask me a question, she bites it back, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gulping for air on dry land. Just like everyone else who knows, she’s unsure of what is safe ground. What is allowed to be asked, to be said. Soon, the conversation dies a predictable, natural death.
But it’s not the silence that falls around us that makes me freeze up. It’s the un-spokenness of it all, of ‘the thing’ that hangs above all of our heads. The precise reason why I’ve come. But I’ve only just arrived and I’m nowhere near ready. Then, just as the tension becomes unbearable, Aunt Mary hammers the final nail into Mom’s coffin.
“Any news from Nina?” It’s not malice, I’m sure of that. It’s not exactly an innocent question either, more a desperate conversation starter.
“She’s in New Zealand. She was an extra in The Hobbit ,” I’m quick to say, to give my mother time to regroup. Nina e-mailed me this nugget of news months ago, and I scoured the IMDb to verify her claim, but the list of extras was so long, I couldn’t find her in it.
“The what?” Aunt Mary asks.
“It’s a big movie franchise. A spin off of Lord of the Rings ,” Dad says.
“I see.” Aunt Mary nods as if she’s reflecting deeply on this. From the set of her jaw, I easily deduct this visit will end soon, for which I’m grateful.
When she leaves, she hugs me tightly again. Neither Mom’s nor Dad’s side of the family—and least of all our own—are naturally tactile people, and learning to accept a family member’s arms around me is still so foreign that I find it hard to enjoy the offered comfort. Instead, I stand stiffly inside her embrace, my muscles automatically rejecting this sort of display of affection. But Aunt Mary’s hug is different from Mom’s, more matter-of-fact and less desperate. The quick, solid embrace of a woman who has gotten used to comforting grandchildren.
Only a few minutes after she’s out the door, I’m quick to say my goodbyes as well. On the way back to West Waters, I drive past The Attic, keeping my eyes peeled for Kay’s car. What does she do for entertainment in this town apart from having a beer with the same people every week?
By the time I drive up to what I’ve started to consider as my parking spot at West Waters, my head is overflowing with questions I’d like to ask Kay. To my dismay, one of the weekenders has parked in my spot, and I need to maneuver into another space. I can’t wait for the weekend to be over and have the lake to myself again.
CHAPTER FOUR
On Sunday night, I find my own surprise in attending the bonfire reflected in the expression on Kay’s face when she spots me.
“You made it,” she says, and slaps me on the shoulder. The temperatures have dropped and Kay has wrapped herself in a dark-gray fleece hoodie and pants. I guess there’s not much use for decorum in a small town like Northville.
I wear the only blazer I packed—a reminder of my life in Boston, which, already, after only a few days here, where time seems to freeze, appears to belong to another lifetime. Or maybe I’m just eager to forget.
“Are you sure about that?” She scans my outfit with a scrutinizing glance. “You’ll have to take that to the dry-cleaners after tonight.”
First, I’m not sure what
And I know it’s not my fault—Dr. Hakim and I have covered this extensively—but the guilt still nags at me. It’s there, showing up faithfully, every time I walk into this house.
Every time Aunt Mary wants to ask me a question, she bites it back, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gulping for air on dry land. Just like everyone else who knows, she’s unsure of what is safe ground. What is allowed to be asked, to be said. Soon, the conversation dies a predictable, natural death.
But it’s not the silence that falls around us that makes me freeze up. It’s the un-spokenness of it all, of ‘the thing’ that hangs above all of our heads. The precise reason why I’ve come. But I’ve only just arrived and I’m nowhere near ready. Then, just as the tension becomes unbearable, Aunt Mary hammers the final nail into Mom’s coffin.
“Any news from Nina?” It’s not malice, I’m sure of that. It’s not exactly an innocent question either, more a desperate conversation starter.
“She’s in New Zealand. She was an extra in The Hobbit ,” I’m quick to say, to give my mother time to regroup. Nina e-mailed me this nugget of news months ago, and I scoured the IMDb to verify her claim, but the list of extras was so long, I couldn’t find her in it.
“The what?” Aunt Mary asks.
“It’s a big movie franchise. A spin off of Lord of the Rings ,” Dad says.
“I see.” Aunt Mary nods as if she’s reflecting deeply on this. From the set of her jaw, I easily deduct this visit will end soon, for which I’m grateful.
When she leaves, she hugs me tightly again. Neither Mom’s nor Dad’s side of the family—and least of all our own—are naturally tactile people, and learning to accept a family member’s arms around me is still so foreign that I find it hard to enjoy the offered comfort. Instead, I stand stiffly inside her embrace, my muscles automatically rejecting this sort of display of affection. But Aunt Mary’s hug is different from Mom’s, more matter-of-fact and less desperate. The quick, solid embrace of a woman who has gotten used to comforting grandchildren.
Only a few minutes after she’s out the door, I’m quick to say my goodbyes as well. On the way back to West Waters, I drive past The Attic, keeping my eyes peeled for Kay’s car. What does she do for entertainment in this town apart from having a beer with the same people every week?
By the time I drive up to what I’ve started to consider as my parking spot at West Waters, my head is overflowing with questions I’d like to ask Kay. To my dismay, one of the weekenders has parked in my spot, and I need to maneuver into another space. I can’t wait for the weekend to be over and have the lake to myself again.
CHAPTER FOUR
On Sunday night, I find my own surprise in attending the bonfire reflected in the expression on Kay’s face when she spots me.
“You made it,” she says, and slaps me on the shoulder. The temperatures have dropped and Kay has wrapped herself in a dark-gray fleece hoodie and pants. I guess there’s not much use for decorum in a small town like Northville.
I wear the only blazer I packed—a reminder of my life in Boston, which, already, after only a few days here, where time seems to freeze, appears to belong to another lifetime. Or maybe I’m just eager to forget.
“Are you sure about that?” She scans my outfit with a scrutinizing glance. “You’ll have to take that to the dry-cleaners after tonight.”
First, I’m not sure what
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