distracted, I take a peek at the photographs lining the shelves in the nook area. Most of them are of Bear and Lincoln, and I’m assuming Rhett. Three brown-haired boys with their father holding up tuna, reels in hand, and smiling. “That was taken in Sitka nearly twenty years ago,” Fletcher notes, passing by me. I imagine coming from a family of fishermen, they spent a lot of time in Alaska.
It’s clear Rhett was older, and I recognize him, but I can’t place where. I do remember seeing him in the bar though, so he has to be at least five years older than Lincoln, if not more. It’s surreal to think all this time I’ve known Fletcher, yet I had no idea Lincoln was his son. Look at me, acting like I’ve been in Lincoln’s life for years. In all honesty, I feel like I’ve been in his life before I was born.
It’s the one on the end of the dusty shelf that really holds my attention. A woman pregnant with a baby, and Lincoln standing next to her. I wonder if he still loves her, and what she was like. And, I wonder about the ring, because in this photograph, this woman is wearing the same one I’d been given by Devereux.
Nervousness pulses through me. Why? Why did Devereux have her ring?
“That’s my mommy,” Atlas tells me, ripping the photograph from the shelf. He holds it up. “She died when I was born. Her brain was bleeding.”
That’s awful. I can’t imagine what Lincoln had gone through knowing they were bringing a child into this world, and he’d ultimately raised him alone. I still tear up when I talk about my parents dying, but I imagine in Atlas’s case, he never met her, so how can he be sad about never knowing her? Well, I mean, he can, and will someday, but not the way a child is after losing their parents at thirteen.
He touches my hand. “We both don’t have moms.”
I force a smile and kneel down to his level. Instinctively, I reach out and comb his hair through my fingers away from his eyes. He smiles at my touch. “Not a club I want to be in, but I’m glad I get to share it with someone so cool he has his birthday on Halloween.”
His forehead wrinkles in thought, his eyes so bright and beautiful. I sigh, a calmness I never knew settling over me in his presence. “Can you walk me to school?”
“Hey,” Fletcher barks at the door, his voice a grumbling edge of annoyance. “Don’t be giving my job away, boy.”
Atlas rolls his eyes and whispers, “He’s so sketchy.”
A laugh escapes me as I set my empty coffee cup on the table. “Sketchy?”
“I don’t know what it means, but Uncle B said it, and I really like that word.” Working his jacket on, he sighs. “I gotta go to school.”
“Okay.” I stand up. “It was nice having breakfast with you.”
He waves goodbye, and I follow them outside. I stand on the sidewalk, curling into my jacket to avoid the wind. I watch them walk down the street until my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and the screen lights up with a text from Avie.
Shit. He’s looking for me. I don’t answer the text and tuck my phone back in my pocket. It’s only about a mile to my house, so I walk the same path Lincoln, and I took earlier this morning. My jacket brushes against my shoulder, and I smile, thinking of all the ways he’s making his mark on me. What’s that saying? Sometimes the fall kills you, but sometimes you fly?
I’m addicted to the wild way he evokes every emotion from me, and terrified by the lies I think he’s keeping. Nausea rolls through me when I think of the ring. I want to find him, beg him to tell me his truths, and know he probably won’t.
Ex-Vessel Price - The price that is paid to the fisherman for their fish.
I shake out a cigarette from my pack. After firing it up, I pocket my lighter and quickly suck down a calming drag. After two inhales, I stare down at the cracked, worn wood of the docks rolling under my feet while the ocean breeze hits my face. With the salty taste of the air on my tongue, I draw in a smoky breath, easing my thoughts from her to him, and what he’s taken from me.