Tally’s face breaks into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Sloan. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Let me show you around and introduce you to the guys.”
Tally walks me over to the kitchen where there’s Mac, the chef with a bald head, a gray beard that reaches his chest, and tattooed sleeves of various mermaids. He greets me with a nod, his hands busy chopping vegetables.
Then there’s Tim, Tally’s husband. He gives me a firm handshake and a welcoming grin. His strong, calloused hands are a testament to his life as a fisherman. “Nice to meet you, Sloan. Is it possible that I saw you at the lighthouse yesterday?” he asks.
“Well, it seems you got quite the first impression of me.” I cringe, feeling embarrassed. I scattered the last of Nan’s ashes into the ocean below the lighthouse.
The lighthousebehind me casts a long, solemn shadow over the rocks. The waves crash rhythmically against the land, a constant, soothing roar that seems to acknowledge the weight of this moment. I clutch the small urn in my hands, the last of Nan’s ashes cool and heavy against my skin. I’m at the edge of the continent, where the Atlantic’s vast expanse merges with the heavens, and the mournful cries of seagulls are the only sound that breaks the monotonous whisper of the waves.
I can barely see through the tears that blur my vision, each one a testament to the days and nights of unrelenting loneliness that have followed me since she left a year ago. I came all this way to keep a promise, but the weight of her absence is a relentless pressure against my chest.
The wind is harsh and biting, pulling at my hair, my clothes, and the ashes I am here to set free. I’ve known this momentwould come, but no amount of knowing makes it easier to release the last piece of her into the cold embrace of the ocean.
As I open the urn and the ashes catch the wind, they’re stolen from my fingertips and scattered across the water. I watch as they drift away, and it’s like I’m losing her all over again. The despair is a living thing inside me, clawing its way up my throat, and I can’t help but wonder if she really found her peace or if she’s as lost as I am now.
“You said there would be light again, but there’s just this emptiness that I don’t know how to fill,” I choke out, my voice lost to the wind and waves.
I drop to my knees, the rocks beneath me unforgiving and sharp, much like the reality I’m forced to live.
I feel like I’m drowning every day, struggling to keep my head above water.
“How am I supposed to do this alone?” The question is futile, screamed into the void, met only with the relentless crashing of the waves.
I promised her I’d be strong, but at this moment, I’m anything but strong. I’m full of sorrow, adrift, and directionless.
I sit there for a long time, even after the last of the ashes have been swallowed by the sea, even as the lighthouse begins to glow with the coming of night.
“Why’s that?”Tally asks, looking at me with concern, pulling me out of the memory.
“Yesterday marked a year since my grandmother passed. I was crying like a baby, but that isn’t anything new for me.” I chuckle, trying to smile and lighten the mood.
“Oh,” Tally whispers, holding her belly, tears forming in her eyes.
Now you’ve made the pregnant girl cry. Just perfect, Sloan.
“You’re in good company. I always have to keep an eye on Tally to make sure she stays hydrated. She loses at least forty ounces of water through crying every day.” Tim laughs, giving Tally a side hug. She slaps him on the stomach, making him blurt, “Oof!”
“You can have an opinion on my mood swings when you’re the one growing our baby inside your belly.” She glares at him, and I have to stifle a laugh.
I think I’m gonna like her.
The evening rush begins, and the restaurant fills up quickly. Tally takes me under her wing, showing me how to take orders and where the supplies are kept. I feel her mother’s watchful eyes but never meet her gaze. Thankfully, the work is fast-paced, and I find myself constantly on the move, leaving no time to dwell on the fact she’s lingering.
As the evening wears on, I find myself getting into the rhythm of things. The initial nervousness fades just as the doors open and new patrons enter. I turn to greet them with a friendly customer service smile, but it falls right off my face when I see who they are.
Before me stands Nash, Business Guy, Apron Guy, and the blond kid.
A deep frownis etched on my face, and my arms are crossed as we stand at the entrance of the restaurant. People bustle around, but I barely register them. I’m not here for pleasantries or small talk. I’m here because Hunter cornered me with a promise I made, one I can’t break, not even if it means enduring another hour away from the office.
I have shit to do, but Hunter doesn’t understand. He babbled on about Sunday family dinners, how I promised to do them every once in a while, and I just wasn’t fast enough with an excuse.
It’s not like I don’t like the food here or hanging out with my brothers and my kid. It’s just if I’m not keeping busy, my own thoughts start yelling.
And fuck are they loud.
I’m talking about things like numbers, deals, contracts. The kind of work that pushes our company ahead. The kind that keeps all our workers safe and lets them take a good paycheck home.
I’ve literally got the weight of this family and the whole town on my shoulders. We’re the ones making sure folks in Lubec have jobs and money coming in. And Hunter won’t stop nagging me about dinners, lunches, and doing stuff together as a family.
