Close to home, p.1
Close to Home, page 1
Close to Home
Copyright © 2024 by Carlene Anysse
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 979-8-9904575-0-8 (ebook)
ISBN 979-8-9904575-1-5 (paperback)
Cover design by Mel D. Designs
To those of us who have needed the reminder that it’s okay to keep living.
Content Themes
Please note that the following information may be considered spoilers. You may skip this page if you wish.
This book discusses some heavier themes such as loss of a parent, loss of a spouse, loss of a friend, a car accident, childhood cancer, depression, panic attacks, nightmares, a drug overdose and a previous suicide attempt. Please take care of your mental health if any of those topics are not a good fit for you today.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 // Cami
Chapter 2 // Holden
Chapter 3 // Cami
Chapter 4 // Holden
Chapter 5 // Cami
Chapter 6 // Holden
Chapter 7 // Cami
Chapter 8 // Holden
Chapter 9 // Cami
Chapter 10 // Holden
Chapter 11 // Cami
Chapter 12 // Holden
Chapter 13 // Cami
Chapter 14 // Holden
Chapter 15 // Cami
Chapter 16 // Holden
Chapter 17 // Cami
Chapter 18 // Holden
Chapter 19 // Cami
Chapter 20 // Holden
Chapter 21 // Cami
Chapter 22 // Holden
Chapter 23 // Cami
Chapter 24 // Holden
Chapter 25 // Cami
Chapter 26 // Holden
Chapter 27 // Cami
Chapter 28 // Holden
Chapter 29 // Cami
Chapter 30 // Holden
Chapter 31 // Cami
Acknowledgements
About the author
Chapter 1
Cami
The keys felt heavy in my hand.
Cheryl, the renter, was still talking and I still wasn’t listening. All the paperwork was signed. The I’s were dotted and the T’s were crossed. The Peterson house was officially mine. Well, at least for the next eight weeks.
When I was seven, I came inside this house for the first time. It was part of the annual Holiday Home Tour. I remembered the tiny ceramic villages set up in the large front windows, with the fake snow and little people. I remembered the hot apple cider that made us feel like grown-ups. I remembered the twinkly lights strung round and round on the Christmas trees, one in each room. There were jazzy Christmas carols playing and cookies in the shape of Santa’s hat.
The house felt big, like a museum or a department store. I remembered sneaking up to the second floor and finding no tiny ceramic villages, no twinkly lights and no sugar cookies. It was as if we stepped back into the real world and out of the North Pole. We sipped our cider and nibbled on cookies, looking out over the town and the sea beyond. You spilled some of your cider on the carpet by that window. I wonder if anyone ever noticed. I wonder if it’s still there.
“You came just in time for the Beach Days Festival, it’s this Saturday,” Cheryl said, snapping me from my memories. “I left a copy of our local newsletter for you, there’s always something going on during the summer months.”
“Thanks.” I played with the tiny brass keys on the ring. “I’ll check it out.”
“Oh, and you should follow us on Instagram, the town finally realized how valuable social media is and they keep it pretty up to date. I’ll send you the profile right now.” Cheryl didn’t wait for a response, clicking away on her phone immediately.
She doesn’t know that I probably already know every town event that will be happening in the next few months. She’s a newer Seaside resident and works for the real estate office that rents out houses over the summer months. I was sure it would only be a matter of time before word got out about me renting the house, but I wanted every last moment of anonymity before providing the gossip mill with their latest story.
Cheryl packed away her phone in her large turquoise bag, draping the straps on her forearm and grabbing her sunglasses from the table.
“Enjoy your summer. I gotta run, but you have my info, so don’t hesitate to reach out.”
I smiled, hoping it would reach my eyes, and followed her out of the kitchen towards the front door.
“Thank you, for everything.”
“Anytime.” She slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. “If you’re looking for a bite to eat, I recommend Beach Eats on Main. They make the best burgers in town, plus they have live music every Thursday, Friday and Saturday.”
It was hard to picture Beach Eats as anything other than a total dive, but it’s possible it changed hands in the last ten years.
“I’ll think about it. Thanks.”
With one last wave, Cheryl closed the door behind her. I heard her car start, the sound of it driving away. Not wanting to be alone with my thoughts, or the house, I grabbed my bag and keys to see if Beach Eats had really improved. My stomach grumbled its approval.
The bar was so crowded the air conditioning wasn’t doing much for the heat and humidity. The salty air was already doing things to my hair. I pushed the stray pieces out of my face and squeezed around bodies to the end of the bar. A live band played outside, country music from the twang of the guitar and drawl of the singer. I settled into the last stool, reaching for the happy hour menu.
A loud squeal from the opposite end of the bar drew my attention and a curly haired figure barreled towards me. I didn’t have time to prepare before a body crashed into me, hugging me tightly. The curly haired girl smelled like cigarettes and something floral, jasmine maybe.
“Danielle?” I squeaked out within the confines of the hug that was more or less like a straitjacket. The scent of jasmine was always Danielle’s favorite when we were little. She was obsessed with the movie Aladdin and dressed up as Princess Jasmine for Halloween three years in a row.
“I just can’t believe you’re sitting here right now.” Danielle pulled back enough that I could see a hint of unshed tears in her eyes. “I thought you weren’t coming until next week. Your messages were so vague.”
I lifted my hands as much as I could to push Danielle’s curls out of my mouth and nose. Danielle released her grip but stayed, what some might consider, a too-close distance, resting her chin on her hand and leaning on the counter.
“Yeah, I wasn’t really sure, and it just worked out that I could come a little sooner.” I failed at keeping the anxiety from my voice. When I had made the decision to return to Seaside, I reached out to two people, Danielle being one of them. It had been so long since I shared anything with anyone from this world, telling Danielle all of my plans and true intentions, felt like too much.
Neither of us said anything for a moment, not until someone, another bartender, called for her.
“Please stay right here. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and I’ll bring food.” She whispered the last part conspiratorially and disappeared into the crowd of people.
Another bartender set a napkin in front of me, “And what can I get started for you? It’s happy hour pricing for another 30 minutes.”
“I’ll just take some water for now. Thanks.” I picked up the paper menu with Happy Hour across the top, if only for something to do with my hands. If I had to run into anyone, and I knew that it would be damn near impossible to avoid everyone in this town, at least it was Danielle. She was a safe neutral party. Sure, I still ditched out on her for the last decade or so, but she wasn’t the worst person I could have run into tonight.
My phone buzzed in my bag underneath the bar top. I took it out and saw Ellie’s name across the screen. I sent my sister a message and left the other messages; one from my dad and one from Cheryl, unread.
The bartender from before set an already condensing water on the worn, wooden bar top. “Did you decide yet? The not-your-momma’s Shirley Temple is a popular one.”
“Sure, I’ll take one of those.” I hardly drank these days, and I could hear my therapist's voice talking about how if I was feeling like I needed a drink to sit with those feelings, but honestly, I didn’t want feelings tonight. I wanted to numb out for a bit and deal with the ramifications tomorrow.
“Anything to eat with that?”
“Uh, Danielle said she was bringing me something.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be back with your drink.”
I sipped from my water glass and glanced around to see if there was anyone I needed to avoid.
The place was packed, even more so outside through the wide opening that leads to what appears to be a large patio area and a slightly elevated stage beyond that. The lounge chairs and furniture were full, and a good-sized crowd gathered close to the stage, so that I could only see parts of legs and guitars and hands. I recognized the song playing, a current country hit. It was a little distorted at this distance, but based on the dancing and general foot tapping, everyone seemed to like it.
My mental tally of people I knew was up to around a dozen, mos
Danielle slid into the now empty stool next to me with two plates. One with the most ridiculously loaded nachos and the other with a burger, sliced in half, and a mountain of fries.
“That smells incredible!” I exclaimed, trying to remember the last true meal I had lately that wasn’t beef jerky or candy.
“The nachos and burgers are our top sellers for a reason. Dig in.” She popped a fry into her mouth, and we settled in a quiet silence.
“Here ya go.” The bartender placed a vibrant red drink with a pink umbrella and swirly straw in front of me.
“Thank you,” I mumbled around bites of burger, reaching for the drink.
“So, you came early for the festival?” Danielle asked, taking a long sip from her soda.
“Mmhmm.” I was thankful for the mouthful of food.
“Look, I’m not going to give you the third degree or anything, but you’ve been missed.”
I knew that the obvious and polite answer would be to say that I missed her too, more than she might realize, but the words were stuck.
“Yeah, it's been a while,” I took a long sip of the drink. It was strong. “How about you give me the Danielle tell all?”
Danielle took a bite of nachos and started talking about her life over the last several years.
“After high school, I went to Boston Community and got a degree in business. I started working here, and well, here we are, however, many years later. I'm an assistant manager now. Wasn’t really where I thought I’d be, but honestly, I can’t see myself living anywhere other than Seaside anyway.”
“That’s really great.” I said, hoping the sincerity was evident. It was strange hearing about her life after all these years. A reminder that life goes on, even when it feels like mine had been in a standstill.
“Okay, enough about me,” Danielle placed a few fries in her mouth and smiled a devilish grin, “let’s get you caught up on the gossip.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. Small town gossip. It was so cliche, but Seaside had one of the biggest gossip mills I’d ever known. It had its perks, mostly people caring about each other, but it had its fair share of half-truths, like a wild game of telephone.
“Let’s start with Holden.”
My stomach dropped. My face doing the same. I quickly tried to fix my gaze into something neutral, praying Danielle wouldn't notice and wiping my sweaty hands on my shorts.
“So, you’re former BFF got engaged, over New Years.”
The gasp was audible, I knew because Danielle responded to it.
“Exactly! It was to Brittany, remember her from Mrs. Larson’s class in fourth grade? Anyway, they got together a few years back, it was about a year or so after Rae was done with treatment and in remission I think.”
“Remission?” I gripped the bar for support.
“Cancer. She’s fine now, really. But it shook the family up, the whole town really. Between her and the Hill girl. Anyway, they got engaged, planned it for the community center and about a month ago, it was called off. No one knows why, or at least those that do aren’t talking. She’s still finishing up her last year at university, so maybe it was the long-distance thing?”
Holden engaged. Rae sick. Holden un-engaged. There were so many questions in my head. I was glad I ate something because the few sips of this Shirley Temple were definitely not helping. I took another long drink from the swirly straw anyway.
“That’s why I thought you were here. For the wedding.”
“Wedding?”
“Yeah, it was supposed to be this Sunday.”
“Sunday?” I hated sounding like a broken record, but my mind was trying to comprehend everything she had just said.
“Yep,” she popped the ‘p’ sound, “but now it’s not. He’s been a little bit of a mess since, well I mean he’s been a little bit of a mess since you.”
Me? My heart beat violently.
She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand. “I know the official story is that you guys were only ever best friends, but I mean we all not so secretly hoped you’d end up together. And then you moved and then everything happened,” she gave my arm a quick squeeze, “and after he came back, he was just a little off.”
I downed the rest of my drink.
Danielle looked at the time on her phone. “Can we do waffles tomorrow? 8:30? I need to let Lexie take her break.”
I nodded, not fully aware. “Sure. Yes.”
“I’ll see you then. Don’t worry about paying, it’s all on me tonight. Stay, enjoy, maybe check out the band.” She grabbed the plates off the counter with a wink and slipped through the swinging kitchen door before I even had time to respond.
The bartender from before returned and reached for the empty glass, “Can I get you another?”
My mind was a mess and as much as I wanted to drown in the emptiness that another drink would give me, I shook my head to say no, fished a ten dollar bill out of my purse as a tip and walked towards the music and the crowd, hoping to get lost in it all.
Outside, the band played a clearly very popular and upbeat song as the crowd extended to the furniture scattered around the edges. And despite not knowing the song, the feeling of the drum beat in my body quickly pulled me into the jumping, dancing bodies.
The heat of the people surrounded me first, the humidity second. I pushed my hair out of my face and was grateful for the looseness of my tank top to allow for any sort of airflow. The song reached a crescendo, the singers softening as the crowd shouted the lyrics. I settled into a spot, unable to move in either direction, and took a deep breath, smelling booze and sweat and salt, and finally glanced up at the people on stage.
It should have been obvious from the voice, although it had a southern twang that wasn’t a natural occurrence. I should have noticed from the stance; from the hands and the way they held the guitar. But I didn’t and now I was trapped. Panic bubbled in my throat, palms sweating and breath shallow.
Holden James, my best friend since we were three years old, played out the last few chords of the song and smiled. His eyes closed, as if he had no cares in the world. As if he had no idea who was standing not twenty feet from him. His deep blue baseball hat sat low over his brow, shaggy, caramel colored hair sticking out on all sides. The sleeves of his black, button-up shirt were rolled up, revealing tan forearms and well-fitted blue jeans. The crowd’s cheering jolted me out of the panic induced paralysis and I went into flight mode, pushing and shoving through people unapologetically.
I had to leave. Now.
He couldn’t see me. I shouldn’t be here, in Seaside of all places. The exit was farther away, or maybe the density of people had simply grown in the three minutes I had been outside. The air conditioning wasn't even a welcome relief as I ran to the front door, threw it open and jogged towards the pier, my legs not stopping until I reached the railing at the far end.
Panting, I screamed over the waves before hugging the worn wood to my chest as sobs ripped through me. It wasn’t fair and being here was a giant neon sign reminding me of that fact. The sun still had at least another two hours before it would be gone for the night, so I sat down on the wood planks, feet dangling over the edge, and tried to focus on the sounds of the waves and not on the live band that could still be heard.
Digging out my phone, I slid my finger across the screen and called my sister back. Ellie answered on the first ring.
“You were supposed to call me when you arrived. Not two hours later.”
“Sorry.” I attempted to keep my voice light, but I was unsuccessful.
“What happened?”
I let out a sigh, running my hand over my face and hair.
“Cam?”
I looked across the ocean.
“I saw Holt.”
“Shut up.”
“His wedding was tomorrow.”
“That lying cheating bast— wait why did you say was?”
“They called it off about a month ago. I ran into Danielle, remember her? And she said that he was engaged to this girl from elementary school, Brittany. They got together sometime after Rae was sick. I thought I was going to throw up when she told me that Rae had cancer.” I fidgeted with the splintering wood beneath my legs. “She’s fine now, in remission, but Jesus Christ, Elle. I need to get out of this town. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.”
