The Long Road Home

by David Roe

Sam ran her finger along the range hood, uprooting flecks of hardened grease that fell to the cooktop and erupted into tiny flames.

“Jesus, Mike,” she said. “How many times I gotta tell you to clean?”

“I clean,” Mike said sullenly. “We’re just slammed.”

She rubbed her oily fingers. “This is a couple weeks’ worth of buildup. You’re gonna burn this place to the ground.”

Mike ignored her, giving uncharacteristic attention to his burgers. “Look, if you’re done busting my balls, the order for that four-top is getting cold.”

“I wanna see my reflection in this thing by the time you leave,” she said, wiping her hand on her apron. She picked up the tray and backed her way through the kitchen doors.

Mike was a bullshitter, but he wasn’t lying about the crowd. The Tidewater Tavern was packed. She weaved her way through the bustling tables to deliver the food, then retreated to the bar. Her father was deep in conversation with two regulars nursing a couple of beers and shoveling free nuts into their mouths.

“Everyone got a drink that needs one, Paddy?” she asked her father.

He glanced around the room. “People seem to be in good cheer.”

She grabbed a stack of tickets pinned to the rail. “Come on, Dad.”

Paddy heaved a sigh and shuffled to the beer taps. One of the regulars chuckled and shook his head. “You gotta relax, hon,” he said. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Billy,” Sam said, resisting the urge to deliver some health tips of her own. She turned her back to the crowd, occupying herself with cocktail orders. Paddy was no good with mixed drinks, eschewing the jigger in favor of his half-blind eyes and unsteady hand.

Busy was good, she reminded herself, especially since she knew it was fleeting. December provided a much-needed bump between the end of the tourist season and the beginning of the winter doldrums. Fishermen flush with cash from the new lobster season were eager to spend it on a hot meal after a long, cold day on the water. And the Holidays always inspired a certain carelessness with money before the long retrenchment of the New Year.

Still, nights like these tried her patience. The indifference of her co-workers, the gibes from her customers, the decrepitude of her kitchen—it was all harder to bear when she couldn’t get a moment’s peace.

She carried an order of drinks to the table by the front window. Through the glare of the dining room’s lights, she saw a car turning into the packed lot.

“Got more coming,” she said to Paddy as he finished pouring the last of the beers.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Don’t recognize the car.”

He snorted. As if she were new to town, as if she didn’t know every customer from here to Yarmouth, as if she wasn’t the one keeping the Tidewater afloat.

Sure enough, when the door opened, the man who entered was no regular. He wore a thin pea coat and expensive shoes, freshly dusted with road salt. His hair was well-coiffed, though his face was riddled with patchy stubble.

Sam grabbed a menu and walked over to greet him. His features sharpened with proximity, until his identity became unmistakable. She saw recognition dawn in his eyes in turn.

“Hi,” the man said.

“Hey.” She considered a hug, but thought better of it. “Table or bar?”

“Table, please.”

She led him to the Tidewater’s sole remaining table, its legs precariously balanced on a couple of old sugar packets. “I’ll give you a moment.”

“Is that Nate Perkins?” Paddy asked when she returned to the bar.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t think he’d ever come back,” he said. “Not after the funeral.”

“Me neither.”

Paddy studied her with his good eye, his head slightly turned. “You all right, Sammy? Want me to take his table?”

“I got it, Dad.”

She busied herself with drinks, but kept glancing at Nate. He seemed unreal, like he’d walked through a door in some alternate dimension and somehow managed to end up here. Nothing about him fit—not his clothes, not the tangerine hue of his skin, not the imperious energy that settled around him like a fog.

At last, she approached his table. “What’ll it be?”

He looked at her. His eyes were dull, unfocused. “Whatever you recommend.”

“Best fish and chips on the South Shore.”

“Sounds great,” he said. “And Sam?”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name. She’d thought they’d reached a silent agreement to pretend not to know each other, to avoid the attendant awkwardness until he walked back out of her life forever. “Yes?”

“I heard you rent a few rooms here?” he asked.

She stared at him a moment. “No. I mean, we used to. Dad and I live here now. In the rooms, that is. Upstairs.” She cleared her throat, tried to steady herself.

“So, there are no rooms?”

“No, there is. Just one room.”

“Can I book it for tonight?”

She nodded. “I’ll get you the key when you’re all finished up.”

“Thanks.”

Sam fled to the kitchen, closed her eyes, and put a hand to her chest. She struggled to subdue the memories that were floating to the surface, to concentrate on the task at hand.

A ringing bell helped to focus her thoughts. “Order up!” Mike called.

#

The scraper skipped across the hood, slowly dislodging grease that had hardened to concrete. “Fuckin’ Mike,” she muttered.

Paddy watched her from his perch at the back door, left slightly ajar to allow his cigarette smoke escape. “You keep cleaning up after him, he’ll never learn.”

“Dad, if I don’t do shit around here, it doesn’t get done.”

He just shook his head and exhaled into the cold December air. “So, Nate rented our room, did he?”

“Yep.”

“Can’t remember the last time we had a rental outside of summer.”

“I know.”

“Also, this place is a dump.”

Sam ceased her scraping and wiped the sweat off her brow. “I wish you wouldn’t say shit like that, Dad. This is our business.”

Paddy flicked his hand dismissively, scattering ash across the kitchen floor. “Oh, come on. I love this place. But you know what I mean. This doesn’t seem like the kind of place ol’ fancy-pants Nate lays his head.”

“His folks are both dead. His sister moved away. And he’s been a ghost since he left. Where else is he gonna stay?”

Paddy extinguished the cigarette and shut the door. “Exactly my point,” he said, grabbing his cane and staggering to his feet. “Why’s he even here?”

Sam resumed cleaning. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe he’s still sweet on you.”

She took a moment to laugh. She gestured at the stained apron draped over her steadily-growing paunch. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe he’s sick of all those California stick insects. Maybe he wants to get his hands back on a real Nova Scotian girl.”

“You’ve got a way with words, old man,” she laughed. “Look, I have no idea what he’s doing in town. But I can’t imagine it has anything to do with me.”

Paddy raised an eyebrow. “Have you considered asking him?”

#

Sam rocked on her heels outside the spare room. She was irritated by her nerves, by the betrayal of her own body. She steeled herself, raised her fist, and knocked on the door.

She heard footsteps through the thin walls before the door creaked open. “Yes?” Nate asked.

The harsh light of day revealed what the dim tavern had disguised. Wrinkles marred his once boyish features, and dark shadows pooled beneath eyes.

“I was thinking of fixing some breakfast,” she said. “Care to join me?”

“I’m not hungry.”

That seemed to be a permanent condition—he’d barely touched his food the night before.

“Okay,” she said. “How ‘bout a walk?”

He relented with a sigh. “Sure.”

They strolled the waterfront. Mist rose off Shoreham Bay, swirling in the frozen air. Nate wasn’t dressed for the weather, but if he was cold, he didn’t show it.

“So, what brings you to Shoreham?” she ventured.

“I was in Halifax on business,” he said. “Thought I’d drive down while I was here.”

She weighed the plausibility of the tale and found it wanting, but decided not to pry. “Business is good?”

He shrugged. “Keeps me busy.”

They walked together in silence for a while, Nate’s gaze fixed on the horizon. She tried to match the memory of her boisterous childhood friend against the taciturn man before her, but couldn’t make it fit.

“How’s the family? Not here, I mean,” she hastened to add. “I meant out in San Francisco.”

“I know what you meant.”

She scratched the back of her head. “I’m sorry about your dad. I know we didn’t get a chance to talk at the funeral.”

“That was my fault,” Nate interjected. “I was barely here. I never made time for the things that mattered.”

She caught the bitterness in his voice. The funeral had been a minor scandal in town. Despite his purported wealth, Nate had left his sister to attend to all the arrangements. His unannounced departure between the funeral and the wake had been the coup de grace on what had remained of Nate’s reputation in Shoreham.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he added at length. “I don’t think I ever said that.”

“Thanks,” she said. The pain of her mother’s passing had dulled but not departed. Her sorrow was mixed with shame. Her mother’s cancer had provided a convenient excuse to leave university, to be with her dying mother and help her struggling father. It had liberated her from failing grades and a nagging fear of inadequacy. She’d learned little from her time at school, except that she wasn’t the person she’d thought she was.

The putrid scent of bait heralded their arrival at the government wharf. The pier was empty; all the boats were at sea, in pursuit of lobsters before Christmas. They walked out on the creaking deck boards, felt the frozen mist bead on their skin.

“I thought coming home would feel different,” Nate said once they reached the edge of the wharf. “I thought it would be like stepping back in time. But nothing here seems familiar. It’s like the memory of a dream. It fades a little more every time I try to remember it.”

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything okay, Nate?”

He didn’t answer, merely looked out to sea.

The Nate she’d known couldn’t abide an awkward silence. He’d happily monologue if he needed to, usually planting the seeds of controversy to lure even the most reserved audience into a debate. He’d been a natural at university, excelling where she struggled, forging a network while she retreated into isolation. Their friendship quickly crumbled outside the hermetic world of Shoreham. When she dropped out, he didn’t even say goodbye.

Sam knew the broad outlines of Nate’s life since they’d parted, in the unavoidable manner of Facebook posts and second-hand gossip. He’d bounced around a few jobs until he eventually found himself on the ground floor of a tech startup in San Francisco, making a boatload of cash when it sold a few years later. He’d smelled where the money was, fancied himself smart enough to grab his share, and proved himself right. Nate was straightforwardly successful in a way that made Sam’s chest constrict whenever he crossed her mind.

But the Nate that stood before him now, shivering quietly at the end of a Shoreham pier, was unrecognizable to her. The fictional version of Nate that stalked the recesses of her memory was finally exorcised.

At last, he broke the silence. “You do one thing for long enough, it pushes everything else out. It becomes all that you are.”

Sam struggled to form a reply. “That happens, I guess,” she said. “Work takes over all our lives. Mine too.” She winced at the comparison, worried that it might sound pitiful to Nate’s ears.

But he just shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.”

As another silence stretched, Sam clapped her gloved hands together. “Well, I better check on Dad.”

“Okay. Listen, I just need one more night. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“It’s no bother,” she said. “Take as long as you need.”

#

Sam pored over the Tidewater’s bills in the back office. Business was up, sure, but so were food costs. The harsh reality of math never failed to dishearten her. The long hours, the stress, the stack of receipts—all of it adding up to a paltry bottom line.

She knew there were other ways to live. Days that ended at five, bank accounts with some distance to zero, labor that did not wreak havoc on her sciatic nerve. She’d glimpsed that life long ago and turned away in terror. That was a life for people with ideas, with drive.

“You look lost, my dear,” her father said, appearing suddenly at the threshold. For a half-blind man with a bum leg, he could move around the tavern like a cat.

She leafed through some papers and frowned. “Did you ever schedule the well inspection? I can’t find the report.”

He grimaced. “I forgot.”

“Dad,” she groaned. “We could be shut down.”

He held up his hands. “Don’t yell at me just because Nate put you in a bad mood.” He shuffled closer. “What happened, anyway?”

“Nothing.” She dropped the papers and sighed. “He just got me thinking.”

“A dangerous thing. Look, don’t let Nate get in your head. He abandoned everyone in this town, even his own family. Barely even showed up for Jamie’s funeral.”

“He regrets that,” she said.

“Really? What did he say?”

“He said—” She cast her mind back, recalling his words, a cold realization snaking down her spine.

“Said what?” Paddy demanded.

“Nothing.” She stood, wincing at the pain that shot down her leg. “I gotta check something upstairs. Could you call the well inspector, please.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paddy said.

#

“Can I come in?”

Nate stood in the doorway, arms crossed. For a moment she thought he’d refuse, but finally he stepped aside.

She entered his room and rounded on him. “Why are you really here, Nate?”

He shrugged. “I told you.”

“You told me nothing. All you said was that you never made time for things that matter. That’s the kind of shit people say when...” She stopped and took a deep breath. “What happened, Nate? Talk to me.”

Nate stared at her defiantly for a moment before casting his gaze to the floor. “I lost everything,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything.” He began pacing the room. “I started a business. I put everything into it. Everything. I’ve always bet on myself, Sam, and it’s always paid off. But I failed. I can’t tell you how completely I failed.”

Sam struggled to digest this new reality. “You made a fortune once,” she said. “You can do it again.”

He laughed bitterly. “I burned a lot of investors. Including my family. My wife, she... she left me. There’s nothing left. I can’t go back to California. And I can’t be here.”

“What are you saying?”

Nate let out a deflating sigh. “I’m saying I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“So, what? You came here to find a reason not to kill yourself?”

He slowly shook his head. “No. I think I came here to convince myself that I should.”

His words hung in the dusty air. She stared at him, felt an old anger stirring within her. “I see. So you wanted to see my pathetic little life to confirm that suicide was your only option?”

“This isn’t about you, Sam.”

She held up her hand. “Eighteen years. Eighteen years, we were inseparable. You were like a brother to me. Then nothing. It was like I never existed.”

“You dropped out.”

“Before that. The second we arrived at school, you treated me like an anchor. Small town baggage. You went off with your new friends and you didn’t give a fuck that I was struggling. Even when mom got sick, you were a ghost.”

“I should’ve—”

“You were addicted to success,” she continued. “Nothing else mattered—certainly not me. Now you’ve had your first taste of failure and you’re ready to throw in the towel.”

He scowled. “You don’t understand.”

“No, I get it. Your life blew up. I’m sorry; it’s horrible. But you don’t get to walk away. You don’t get to just... give up.”

He finally stopped pacing and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, Sam. For everything.”

“I don’t want your apology,” she said. “Look, Nate. If your mind is set, I can’t stop you. But you’re here. You came all this way. Maybe you could take the time to have a real conversation with me?”

He said nothing, just stared resolutely at the floor.

“Dinner service is starting soon,” she said. “I gotta get ready. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

#

“Another good night,” Paddy said, as the final customer walked out the door.

She cleaned the bar, sweeping up the heaps of detritus that Paddy reliably left in his wake. “We’re up almost ten percent over last year.”

Paddy chuckled. “You and your damn spreadsheets. I always just relied on my gut.”

“And how did that work out?”

“We survived.”

“Ever wonder if that’s enough, Dad?” she asked. “Just surviving?”

Paddy considered this for a moment, his good foot idly tapping in time with the radio. “This place is just the means, honey. It’s not the end. It keeps my hands busy. It keeps a roof over my head. It lets me spend my days with my favorite person in the world.”

Sam swallowed a lump in her throat and smiled. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

She sighed and leaned the broom against the wall. “I should lock up.”

As she approached the door, she saw a dark figure standing in the empty parking lot. She stepped outside onto the stoop, her bare arms prickling in the freezing air.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Nate said.

“You missed dinner.”

“I’m still on California time, I guess.”

Sam grinned. “I’m sure I could throw something together, if you’re up for it.”

For the first time, Nate returned the smile. “Count me in,” he said.