The next morning, we leave several hours earlier than necessary. One, because I want to see the inn before I leave, but two, because the airport is going to be much wilder than usual. Every flight out of here is packed. A lot of people got stranded here due to the storm, and I’m sure they’re just as desperate as I am to get back.
Or, as desperate as Iwas.
I don’t let myself think too much about that though. I climb into the front seat of Nikhil’s car and deliberately ignore the rearview mirror. I don’t want to look back at the house. There’s no point remembering it. There’s no point reminiscing about the past, or what could have been. The papers stuffed at the bottom of my bag put an end to all of that. Put an end to us.
Nikhil drums his fingers against the steering wheel. After we’re on the road for fifteen minutes, he says, “It’s not too far from here.”
I nod. “Great.”
There’s really nothing for the two of us to talk about, so I spendmost of the drive looking out the window. It’s safe to do so now that the house is miles and miles behind us.
It’s amazing, really. How quickly things can seem back to normal after a storm. The streets are completely clear of water, but there are still telltale signs of what happened. Large, lakelike puddles in some of the grassy fields. Felled trees and giant branches. Every now and then, Nikhil has to change lanes or drive on the wrong side of the road to get past them.
He’s turning now, down a muddy, uneven gravel road. We’re on it for a few minutes, and then the house comes into view.
All the air rushes out of my lungs.
“Nikhil—” I say, but he’s already out of the car, his door left open.
I unbuckle my seat belt and scramble after him. It doesn’t take me long to catch up. He’s frozen in place, his eyes fixed on this ramshackle building in front of us, framed by sea and sky.
I know the brackish blue-gray water in the background meets the ocean at some point, but it looks like it goes on forever. The overcast sky only makes it all feel even moodier and more atmospheric, and I can see the vision. I can see this being a perfect place to run from the city. To retreat. To sit on the porch with a book and a large cup of tea. Or on the dock looking over the water, with a fishing pole in hand. In the winter, there’ll be a firepit in the front where guests can roast marshmallows and trade ghost stories, and find a sense of community even though they’re far from home. I can see all of it.
Only that porch has fully collapsed, pieces of wood railing tossed to the ground. Like a giant ripped into it and scattered the pieces. The windows are boarded up, so those seem to be intact, but that hardly seems to matter. There’s a difference in paint color on the house, a line that clearly demarcates how high the water got during the storm.And from what I’m seeing, the first floor definitely took on some water. There’s going to be damage inside. The bottom of the walls, at least a foot of Sheetrock, will need to be taken out and replaced.
I glance at Nikhil, and suddenly, there’s a viselike grip around my heart.
I don’t know what shape the property was in when Nikhil bought it, but from the shock written across his face, I know it wasn’t as bad as this.
He takes a couple steps forward and slowly runs his hand over a wood beam. A low, dark laugh escapes him.
“Guess you don’t need to worry about that grant stuff anymore,” he says.
“Nikhil—”
“There’s no point now. There’s no—” He stops, shaking his head. Then, he takes off, walking around to the back, making a full circle of the property. I follow after him.
The back looks slightly better than the front, but then Nikhil lets out a loud groan. He’s tipped his head back, so I do the same. And the roof…My god. It looks like a slice of Swiss cheese. Several large holes punched through, shingles completely missing.
“I can’t fix this,” Nikhil mutters. “This is too…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to have to sell.”
“What?”
“There are always real estate developers who come in after storms like this. Vultures.” He’s still staring up at the sky, devastation written across his face. “They look for destroyed properties and flip them.”
“Butyoucan flip it,” I say. I’ve seen the work he’s done before. He’s capable of doing it. He’s capable of restoring this place. It would be hard and long and cost a lot more than it would have before, but I’ve promised Nikhil that I would help with that. I can stillhelp with that. “If it’s a funding issue, we can work it out. I’ll find a way. You were insured, right? That might cover some of this—”
“No, it’s not that,” he says. “It’s just…None of this…It doesn’t—” He kicks a small piece of debris with the tip of his shoe and continues walking.
I swallow, unsure what to say or do. I want to fix this. I want to make it all better. But I can’t wave a magic wand and erase the damage from this storm. I can’t make it so that it never happened.
We head back to the car in silence, and Nikhil drives out onto the gravel road, leaving the same way we came. Before we turn back onto the main road, our eyes catch in the rearview mirror, both of us taking one last look at the would-be inn behind us.
“You can repair this, Nikhil,” I try again. “You can. If you want to, I know you can.”
“I can’t.” He gives a wan smile as he watches me, sorrow etched in every line on his face. “Some things are beyond repair.”
We’re quiet the rest of the drive, and when he drops me off at the airport, our goodbyes are simple. Muted. Our emotions are suppressed, trapped and hidden somewhere deep below.
