"Auntie Macy," the man exclaimed, making me laugh for the first time since I left the B&B this morning. "That's mean."
"Well," she shrugged, "it's the truth. Now, be a good boy and get us some coffee and two sandwiches. It is time for me to take my break."
Christian looked at her, then at me, then back at her, and with a shake of his head he seemed to have accepted his fate, and instead of arguing with an old woman, he walked behind the counter, took off his jacket, and got to work.
"Come now," Macy said, guiding me toward the same booth I had seen when we just entered. "You and I need to talk."
Silence envelopedus as soon as we sat down, with Macy looking at me as if she were just waiting for this day to happen.
I didn't know what to make out of this entire situation. First with Christian's reaction to me, then that weird fucking hallucination, and now with Macy looking at me as if I were her long-lost daughter.
"I don't really know what I'm doing here." I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind, because I actually had no idea what I was doing here.
A part of me wanted to go back to that B&B, pack up my bags, and go back home. The other, much bigger, part of me wanted to talk to Macy and see if she knew anything about my mom and my parents. She was definitely in her sixties, maybe even seventies, judging by the lines on her face and the wisdom that kept swirling in her green eyes.
The eyes that instantly reminded me of a dream I kept having and of a man that wouldn't leave me alone.
"I think you do know what you're doing here, but you're scared."
"I'm not scared." I was, but I didn't want to admit it out loud.
I was mostly scared I was chasing something just to feel anything other than the suffocating pain over the loss of those I loved the most. I was terrified that I was chasing ghosts just to feel closer to them in some weird way. There was a high chance I wouldn't find anything at the end of this road and I was just going through my savings with no real plan on what to do afterwards.
What would I even do if I managed to find my biological father? I already had a dad and I loved him more than anything in this entire world, so what could this stranger provide me that Benjamin couldn't?
The fact that he was alive? Or the fact that I needed to know more about my mom's past.
"I think you are scared, darling," Macy said with a small smile, "and that's perfectly normal. I'm also pretty sure your mom doesn't know you're here."
"My mom is dead." I said it so matter-of-factly, shocking her instantly. Macy's eyes went wide, her already pallid complexion paling further, and if I didn't know better, I could swear she was on the verge of crying. "Sorry, I threw that out there just like that. She died almost a year ago, together with my dad and my younger sister, Thalia."
Her hand flew to her mouth as she whispered, "Oh, God."
"I was the only survivor of that accident," I added, touching the scar on my left eyebrow. "And truth be told," I looked into her green eyes, "I don't even know how I survived. I don't know how I got out of the car. I don't know anything anymore," I ranted. "The only thing I do know is that my mom mentioned this place in her journals and the island."
Macy sat still, barely moving as I mentioned the island.
"Nevermere Island," I mumbled, as if I too was afraid of anybody else hearing about it. Macy looked around us and just as she was about to open her mouth, Christian came by, bringing over the two coffees and sandwiches Macy had asked him to make.
"Two coffees," he placed them on the table, "and two club sandwiches," he added, avoiding looking at me. I had no idea what I had said to make him so standoffish with me, and I probably wasn't going to find out.
"Thank you," I murmured, taking a slow sip of the black coffee he had placed in front of me. Macy did the same, looking at me over the rim of the cup, letting the silence stretch between us as Christian left the table.
I was usually okay with silence. Some of my favorite memories were the ones where I sat with the people I loved as silence enveloped us, because we didn't need to talk to understand each other. We didn't need to fill the space with unnecessary blabbering just because the silence felt a little bit uncomfortable.
Right now I did feel uncomfortable. Maybe because Macy kept looking at me as if she were trying to get a read on me, or maybe because my entire body still kept buzzing from all the weird encounters I've had so far, but whatever it was, I didn't like it. Not one bit.
"I knew your mother," Macy finally said, breaking through the thick layer of silence wrapped around us. "I didn't know her well, but I did know her." Hearing that was just another proof that this was right where I was supposed to be. "But I'm not sure if she would've wanted you to be here, looking for the ghosts of the past, my child. There's a reason why your mother left the island."
My heart skipped a beat as she mentioned her leaving the island. Hell, it was the first time anyone other than me had mentioned the island, and it felt like the reassurance I needed to stop me from thinking I was going insane.
"Do you know the reason?" I asked, instead of asking about the island immediately. She wasn't as wary of me as her nephew was, but there was still something behind her eyes telling her to tread carefully. Ever since the accident, reading other people came naturally to me, seeing behind the masks they wore, which eventually helped to solidify my decision to leave my previous job. When people don't really care about you and your well-being, you have nothing else left to do but to leave.
So, I did.
But Macy didn't look at me as if she didn't care. She didn't sit like a woman that was afraid of me or the truth only she knew. She looked at me as if she was scared for me. She looked at me as if this was the last thing she ever expected to do and whatever it was that made my mom run from the island, was obviously something big enough to make an old lady like Macy Wren afraid for me.
"I need to know," I added after a minute too long when no answer came from her. "I know it's insane. I know it makes no sense going back to a place she obviously left for a reason, but I need to know, Mrs. Wren. I need to know more than I need to breathe." My voice wobbled. "I need to know they didn't die in vain. I need to fucking know what happened and why she neverspoke of her past. Why was she so scared? Why did she run away from my biological father?" Macy took a deep breath, leaning on the table as the words erupted from me. "I need to know," I whispered, and for the first time since I started on this journey, I was admitting out loud what this was all about.
