Return to Gray Harbor (2 page)

The morning sky was glowing pink and the air smelled of salt. The low humming of Michael Malone’s rental car seemed a little out of place as he pulled up the dirt road to a ramshackle house that looked like it was badly in need of repair. The Penobscot area was now known as one of Maine’s most picturesque escapes. He stepped out of the shiny black mustang coupe in a two piece suit and necktie. They weren’t Armani, but you could tell they were expensive despite the understated look. He halted in front of the faded red door of the sea-worn Cape Cod home.

“What happened to this place?” he mumbled as he stared at the worn shingles that were left clinging to the home. Definitely not picturesque, that’s for sure, he thought. The cedar shingles were either missing or faded and worn beyond the usual salt grey that New England homes had become known for. It had been thirteen years since he’d been back home. It felt like forever and just yesterday all at once.

He was home. His skin prickled with goose bumps and a sense of uneasiness spread through him. Instinct screamed at him to head back to the car and get as far away from Gray Harbor as soon as possible. But he had to be there for her, for all of them.

He had seen his mother and siblings periodically since his impassioned vow almost thirteen years ago never to return, but he had kept true to his words until now. He had not once come back since that fateful day.  He had wanted to many times but felt like he would never be welcomed by his father after the blowout they had about Michael going to college in New York.

Since then his family, all but his father, had come to New York once a year after Christmas. He’d take them to Radio City, to the Russian Tea Room for High Tea, and, of course, to a New York City institution: Midtown Comics — a favorite of his little brother Jonah. During all that time, he had not once truly spoken to his father.  And his father never once made an effort to reach out to Michael either, not on his graduation from undergrad, the completion of his MBA, or landing the job he had worked so hard to land. When Michael called home, his father would barely grunt and then just passed the phone off, completely ignoring anything Michael said to try to make things right. Now Michael took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and raised his hand to knock. Before he had a chance, the door flew open.

“I can’t believe it you actually showed up,” said Jonah, barely looking at him.

“Whoa, check out the car. What is that? It’s wicked!” His brother, who was not so little anymore, was clearly more excited about the car than he was about Michael. Michael told Jonah it was just a rental and then put him in a headlock, for old times’ sake.

“Jeez dude, no need to mess up my hair,” Jonah exclaimed, and then he screamed “Mom, Annie, Judy … Mikey is here and he’s trying to kill me!”

Mikey — It had been a long time since anyone had called Michael by his old nickname. Everyone in town had called him that, well, almost everyone. He stopped going by it once he went to New York. Michael had felt more mature than “Mikey.” He felt almost silly thinking that now, though. He really didn’t care either way now that he was an adult. Thinking about it, he could hardly believe he had left home when he was around Jonah’s age. Jonah reminded Michael a little of himself. Jonah’s six-foot frame and blue eyes mirrored Michael’s.  His dark hair was longish and swept to the side. He was tan and vibrant, in the way only twenty-year-olds can be. Jonah’s “Malone’s Market” t-shirt, worn jeans, and Converse sneakers were a contrast to Michael’s clothing — and Jonah smelled faintly like fish. It served as a reminder of why Michael had not been back all these years.

Sometimes he felt like he had changed too much to come back. The calm of Maine inside Michael had been replaced. He was now an on-edge New Yorker. Michael mussed up his brother’s hair one more time while Jonah struggled to get out of his reach. Michael remembered the day he left — Jonah was just seven years old. Michael had snuck into Jonah’s room and promised that no matter what, he would always be his big brother and help him in any way he could. Michael tried his best to keep that promise. Although he couldn’t be there in person, he called Jonah all the time on the cell phone he purchased for him and he was always available to give his brother advice when he needed it. When it came time for college applications, Michael edited all of his essays. Jonah was a smart, good kid who everyone loved. And like Michael, Jonah also was focused on his passion and his dream: computers. The only difference was that Jonah didn’t totally follow his dream, which was to study computer science at Stanford. He did exactly what was expected of him and stayed in Maine. So did his little sister Judy. Michael had tried to be a good brother to Judy, too, but for some reason they had not bonded as much. It was probably because she was just four years old when he left.

“Glad you came. Mom was worried you wouldn’t ‘cause of your ‘stupid pride.’ And do not touch my hair again, it takes a long time to get it to look like this.” Jonah smoothed his hair back and was about to say something else when their mother came to the door.

Behind her was Michael’s older sister Annie, with Judy, who was no longer so little, trailing behind. She had just turned seventeen and Michael couldn’t believe how much had changed since he saw her just last year when his came family visit him in New York. Judy had grown so tall since last Christmas! She was at least five foot ten and had long black hair and blue eyes. She was gorgeous. He was both proud and worried at that moment … he might need to beat up some boyfriends during this visit. He smiled at the thought. He always wished he and Judy could be closer. Maybe he could make some inroads toward that goal on this visit. He and Annie had also drifted somewhat apart through the years. He wasn’t as up-to-date as he should be on her children or her home.

The whole family was there, except for James Malone. That stubborn old goat, as Michael’s mother frequently called him, still hadn’t forgiven Michael. But that’s not why he wasn’t there. It wasn’t a choice James had made. Although Michael wondered if his father would be here to greet him if the circumstances were different. Now, he would never know.

“Mom! Jonah, Annie, Judy, I’m glad to be here.” Michael hugged his teary-eyed mother.

She was short, with graying hair, and the same pale blue eyes that Jonah, Michael, and Judy all had. She had a few more wrinkles than the last time Michael saw her, which was just last November, for his birthday. She seemed to have aged beyond her fifty-four years. It had been a tough year for her with all that had happened to Michael’s father.

“Come on in, Mikey, glad you’re here. I only wish you could have seen him before it happened.” Marty let out a cry and held Michael tighter.

Judy Malone touched her brother’s shoulder and said, “Good to see you, bro,” Then she looked to her mother. “Mom, why don’t we all go inside.”

Judy had a quiet maturity about her that was simultaneously comforting and disturbing. Having someone so young seem so together could be disarming. She steered them into the kitchen. It looked the same. Linoleum floors with a strange black octagon and white square pattern, oak cabinets with cast-iron pulls and 1970’s ‘modern’ olive green appliances. The best part of the room, the large country farm table with faded red legs, was still there, and the picnic bench seat—perfect for numerous children to hang out on—was there, too. Michael, Annie, and Jesse had sat there all the time while growing up. It was there that they did their homework together, played Monopoly, shared after-school snacks, and just talked. He also remembered Jonah and Judy coloring and doing their art projects there when they were small children.

Michael remembered the time Jesse and he had carved their initials into the table top with their Dad’s Swiss Army knife and they gotten so many lashes that their bottoms matched the table legs. He smiled at the memory. James Malone wasn’t a violent man, but when they were small, he hadn’t shied away from disciplining his children. Michael had been just eight years old at the time and Jesse twelve.

“Jesse.” Michael sighed. Michael hadn’t thought about Jesse and the night he died in a long time. The football team had just won the state championship so Jesse got to go to all of the victory parties and took Michael along with him. There was a lot of beer at the parties, and drugs. Jesse wasn’t a big drinker… but that night he was drinking... he was drinking a lot. Michael had never seen anything like it. For the first time in his life, Jesse had decided to cut loose. He took shots, drank from a funnel, danced, and sang at the top of his lungs. Then the cops came and Jesse had to get out of there, and he and his girlfriend Jen headed for the car. Jen’s little sister Beth had tried to convince both Jesse and Jen not to drive. Jen told Beth to back off and she got in the car. Just a few miles from the party, they ran into a tree. The car flipped over and neither survived.

Michael shook his head and looked beyond the kitchen into the dining room. He struggled with the memories of Jesse and that day with his dad over and over again in his head. Sometimes he wished he’d done it differently. Other times he wished his Dad hadn’t been such a stubborn jerk. He couldn’t change the past, but he was hoping there would still be time to change the future.

Michael walked towards the dining room. It still looked like a mess, even in the distance. He guessed they were still using it as an office, even though Jesse’s room had been empty for years.

His mother’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “So honey, are you hungry? I made a carrot cake just the other day, your favorite. And we have chocolate milk. I even bought that sparkling water you like so much. Dang, what’s it called... San Pelican? Oh, well, whatever it is, what would you like to have?”

She was speaking so quickly, Michael didn’t even know what to say.

“Okay, mom, let the man breathe, he just got here,” said Annie. Michael shot her a look of appreciation. He thought to himself had it not been for Annie, growing up would have been a lot harder than it had been, even if she was a rat sometimes. Even though Annie was five years older, she and Michael had always had a connection. She’d always come over and ‘save’ him when things got bad. He was a bookish teenager with only a few friends and was often the butt of people’s jokes. Sometimes Michael had felt really alone, especially after Jesse died, but then Annie would be there with popcorn and videos.

“Oh, I’m fine, Mom. A sparkling water would be great. No carrot cake for me right now, though. But I will try some later, if that’s all right.”

Marty got his water and then sat down at the table. They all sat there in silence for a few minutes but it didn’t last long. Annie never could stand the quiet.

“Guess I’ll just come right out and say it. We’re really glad you came home, Mikey. Dad’s in bad shape. We know things haven’t been the greatest between you two...”

“Oh, hell, Annie. Michael, your Dad hasn’t been doing so hot for a while now and we think this has been a long time coming. I didn’t want to burden you with it but we’re in a bit of trouble now that he’s gone and had a stroke.” Marty let it all out in what seemed like one breath.

“I don’t understand — did something else happen? Before the stroke? When? Where? Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t understand.” Michael’s words came out in a rush. Even though he hadn’t been home in all this time, it wasn’t like he hadn’t spoken with his family. They spoke every week, sometimes more frequently, and no one had said a word about his father having any health issues. And now a stroke, he knew that part. But had Michael known about his father being sick he might have come back sooner, he might have been able to help. Maybe he could have stopped this from happening. Who knows what could be different now, had he known.

He had to stop himself, his thoughts were racing.

Marty paused and took another deep breath. “Well, remember when you were graduating from your MBA? You were furious we couldn’t come down to see you for graduation because we had to ‘take care of inventory’? You had that crazy internship at that Goldfarb place they always talk about on the TV and you were so concerned about getting a good job that I couldn’t do that to you. You were just twenty-five, and your father had his first scare... a heart attack... and I just didn’t want to burden you, and neither did your father. It happened the day before you asked to speak to him...”

Burden him? What did they think of him? That he was some kind of unfeeling monster? Sure, he had been mad at his father all that time, but he didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. Although he sometimes hated to admit it, he still loved his father.

Annie interrupted. “I told you he didn’t want to speak to you ‘cause I didn’t know what else to say...he didn’t want us to tell you...”

“He didn’t want you to miss your graduation... I guess he was also afraid you wouldn’t choose him... that you wouldn’t come see him,” said Marty with tears in her eyes. “He never said that, but it’s the sense I got.”

Michael was taken aback — he didn’t know what to say. He remembered that day. He was so upset they wouldn’t come see him and because of inventory of all things, he had thought. He thought to himself that the market was all anyone cared about and he promised himself that that would never happen to him — that he would never become so consumed by something. It all made sense now. The house’s complete disrepair, Jonah’s decision to go to a University of Maine instead of Stanford. Michael felt ashamed that they didn’t think they could ask him for help before... but he also felt angry that they had hid this from him. Despite all their issues, he was still family. And despite his Dad’s pushy nature, there had been good times too.