“Do you know what it was like? I spent most of my life reliving memories that weren’t even mine, instead of creating my own. I never got to live out my own life; instead I had to relive parts of yours. Even then, it was only the parts you decided to record. Do you know how often I observed you and your grandfather going on those trips to Cape Forchu? The times your grandmother braided your hair? I’ve felt what you felt. I’ve seen what you’ve seen. Those memories live in me, just like they are in you. And you sit here and tell me it doesn’t matter because I’m not even real?!”
“Clay, I—”
But he was already gone. Vanished into thin air.
Chapter 11
I drove home filled with regret. Why did I keep pushing everyone away? Clay didn’t deserve that, and honestly? Maybe I was a little hard on Mom too. I kept wondering if there was anything I could have done differently with Clay…I knew I couldn’t have taken him to Halifax when we left; he would’ve been seen or caught. So instead he spent his time in Yarmouth, waiting. I thought about him watching all of our memories like the reruns of a sitcom. Just like I did when Mom was away. Over and over and over again. It didn’t sit well with me. No wonder he was hesitant to let me back into his world. He held the same resentment towards me that I held towards my mom. I wanted him to be more than a character in my story. He deserved more than that.
I could see Mom in the backyard smoking a cigarette when I pulled up. I managed to sneak inside by going through the side door. I tried to get upstairs, but a voice called me down.
“Young lady!” It was directed at me. “Young lady, get off the steps and come see me.”
It was Nan’s voice. I could have ignored her, but something made me pause and turn around. She was sitting in the living room on a rocking chair. I sat down on the sofa, not really sure what to say. She smiled at me and said, “I see you around. What’s your name?” She seemed genuinely curious.
So many emotions filled me: anxiousness, fear, sadness. She had no memory left of the times we sat in this very same room, watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. She helped me grow into the person I am, and yet here she was, asking me what my name was.
“My name is Anna,” I said quietly.
“Anna is a pretty name. You from around these parts?”
I didn’t want to confuse her, and I knew if I told her I was from Yarmouth she would ask for a backstory, and who my people were. It hurt to lie, but I said, “I’m from Halifax.”
“Halifax? My daughter wants to move there. She was always the artistic one of the family.” Nan leaned over and gave me a look. “But between you and me, I’d be heartbroken if she left us. I want her close.” She sat back in her chair again and said, “If you have family, Anna, stay close to them. Because at the end of the day, that’s all we’ve really got. When the rest of the world falls apart, they will be the only ones who will pick you back up.”
I instantly thought about Clay. He had picked me up, even after I left him behind. When he saw me panicking he gave me a place to rest, and after my fight with Mom, he was the first person to let me vent. I thought about that night we both sat in the truck and he held on to me as I bawled. His world fell apart when I decided to leave him behind, but I left him behind with barely a second thought. He had been stuck here, alone and away from me, but when the tables were turned and I needed a shoulder to cry on, he was there. God, now I felt even worse about saying what I said in the truck.
“Thanks for the advice.” I stood up to leave.
I went upstairs to hide away in my room to let those thoughts sink in. At least Nan still had her wisdom; if only there was a way we could go back in time and collect the rest of her.
I waited until the sun went down to make my way to the truck in the garage. I grabbed the journal from the glove compartment and held it, contemplating my position. I felt like a coward because I knew Clay harboured resentment towards me. The same type of resentment I held against my mom. I realized I wasn’t that different from her, and maybe I should have been more empathic, like Clay was to me. I stashed the journal back in the glove compartment and walked down to the lake to skips rocks across the water, hoping it would clear my mind.
But it didn’t.
Guilt, shame, and regret filled every part of me, and seeing each rock sink reminded me there was no way this whole Clay thing was going to end with the two of us riding off into the sunset. He couldn’t remain a secret forever.
As I threw another rock my surroundings faded into darkness, the sky, trees, and house were replaced with darkness, and as the rock landed it bounced on the sheet of ice that had formed. I wasn’t stupid; I knew Clay was playing with the edges of his reality, mixing them with mine.
“Clay,” I called out. “I know you’re there.”
I could see the Milky Way expanding above my head while I stepped onto the ice and slid forward.
“I wanna see you.”
“I’m right here,” I heard from behind me.
I turned and saw his warm face, grey skin, and dark eyes.
“Hey, Clay—” I began.
“I know,” was all
