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that was inaccessible by sedans or sports cars. "My wheels this time."
We drove along South Road for miles-past sheep farms, a cemetery, and horse
pastures-until we came to the turnoff to Black Point. Mike's head rested
against the window, oblivious to the landscape around him.
There was nothing to mark the entrance, but I could have found the
well-hidden access in my sleep. I had come here for solace whenever I needed
some kind of comfort. I drove down the quiet road, kicking up dust all the
way, finally reaching the old gate and stepping out to unlock it. I rounded
the bend, scrubby brush giving way to the great expanse of wetlands. Tall
brown grasses waved on the edges of the ice blue pond, backing up against the
dunes, which dropped away to the fierce surf of the Atlantic.
I got out of the car and hiked the path alone, climbing the cut to the
highest peak and sitting there, surveying the miles of clean white sand that
reached out in both directions, as far as I could see. The whitecaps on the
waves reminded me how rough the ocean could be, how its angry pounding against
the shoreline seemed almost a reflection of Mike's mood.
The late-afternoon sun cast my shadow far out onto the sand. When Mike came
up behind me minutes later, it threw his tall outline even farther toward the
water than mine-two long black figures alone in their mourning on an isolated
piece of one of the most beautiful beaches in the world.
I had come here with Nina the day that Adam died-to rage against his loss and
to be in a place where we had always found serenity. With his family, soon
after, I had scattered his ashes offshore at this very spot.
Mike stepped out of his loafers, took off his socks, and rolled up the legs
of his jeans. The water was colder than I dared think, but I knew he wasn't
feeling very much. For half an hour, he walked the shoreline until he was out
of my sight and when he returned, his eyes were rimmed with red and swollen
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with tears.
He stood at the edge of the tide as it ran out and spoke to me for the first
time since we left the house.
"She never caught a break. You know how it is? How certain people just carry
some kind of curse with them from the moment they're born? They've got
everything to live for but there's some relentless black cloud hanging right
overhead? That was Val."
"Think what she had with you this last year. Think what happiness you gave
her." I kicked off my moccasins and walked down to be next to him.
"Happiness? You know what a struggle it was for her to smile sometimes? You
know what a triumph it was for her to be healthy again? You're sounding like
her father-like all I was to her was the court jester, making sure she had a
reason to laugh every single day she was alive."
"Don't put me in his category. She told me what you meant to her on every
level, and I know how very much she wanted to marry you."
"I didn't realize she was that open about it," Mike said, reaching down to
pick up a rock. He pulled back his arm and heaved it into the ocean. "And it
was actually gonna happen, if you can believe it."
"Val used to-"
"Don't say it. I don't want to talk about her now."
"Youhaveto talk about her, Mike. That's one thing you can still do for her.
Talk about her and think about her every day of your life, from now on for as
long as you live."
He turned and started walking back down the beach away from me, weaving from
exhaustion as he moved. "It's too rough. I'd rather-"
"Of course it's rough. That's why you have to make yourself do it. Out
loud-to people like me and like Mercer, who know what you meant to her."
"I think of the fucking mutts I have to deal with every day of the week.
People who kill and steal and maim for no reason at all. Scumbags who'd just
as soon shoot you between the eyes as turn the other cheek. Bastards who'd rob
and rape their own mothers without thinking twice. Assholes who skin cats and
shoot dogs for sport. Any of them ever die young, Coop?" Mike was shouting
now, trying to make himself heard over the breaking surf. "Nope. They'll
outlive every guy you ever met in a white hat, every living soul who ever did
a good deed for someone else. They've got something in their genes that not
only produces an absolutely pure strain of evil, but also lets 'em thrive till
they're a hundred and fifty."
Mike stood in frigid water up to his ankles and threw another couple of rocks
far out into the waves. "That's what consumes me sometimes. All of these
shitbirds who don't deserve to live, they're gonna be here long after we're
gone. And that sweet, smart, strong kid I fell in love with didn't stand a
fucking chance from the get-go."
"You can't-"
"If you're gonna give me 'life isn't fair,' Coop, don't even open your [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]