At the Bottom of the Bay

Chapter Sixteen

Things got better.

Who knew getting her back blown out by Kelsey McQuarrie every day would fix her? Maybe Kelsey herself, if her pleased grin every time Sofia propositioned her was anything to go by. It rankled, but mostly Sofia didn't have it in her to care.

She hadn't seen the dark shadowy figure at night in weeks. She stopped drinking, quit the dope. She barely even smoked anymore. For the low, low price of Kelsey finger-blasting her on every available surface of her room, she was a semi-functioning person again. Still spacy, her mind wandering to nowhere any time she was left alone with her thoughts, and still wired, often trembling from a cold she couldn't feel anymore, but all those sensations felt distant, over a hill, out of sight. She was way above the water now, and all that negative crap was trapped beneath the waves, unable to reach her.

The rage was down there too, down at the bottom of her, hidden and secret again. She hadn't explained the incident with Bosco to Kelsey in full, hadn't known how to, in all honesty. She didn't expect it to scare Kelsey off, since the weirdo had barely any reaction to her admitting to the murder in the first place; the how and why of it wouldn't make much difference. In less charitable moments, Sofia imagined telling her as the ultimate test of her loyalty, but it wasn't necessary. Kelsey was devoted. Sofia was angry. Somehow, they worked. The rest didn't matter.

She didn't tell Kelsey she'd gone to the police about the incident at the diner, either. They never followed up, so it didn't seem necessary.

She worked for Miriam, as per their agreement, just enough to keep herself busy and take her mind off things. It helped, having something to focus on that wasn't her own guilt, or lack thereof, and the ice creeping up her back. She cleaned the kitchen, washed glassware, took the empty bottles to the recycling bin. Her sleep schedule was a mess. She stayed up to 5AM most nights, the following hours spent in Kelsey's arms before she had to go off to work at the fish shop, leaving Sofia to sleep the day away. And what else would she be doing? Hobbies? She didn't have those anymore. Wherever she'd been for those three months she'd been missing, so much of her was still there. It was depressing to think about, but Sofia was very good at not thinking at all.

No one came to question her about Bosco, though she heard plenty of gossip about it around the bar. The consensus seemed to be that he just took off. Apparently, he hadn't told anyone he was pursuing Sofia that day, so she wasn't even a suspect. And despite that constant feeling of being watched, no one had seen anything before the tide came in and washed him and his cruiser out to sea.

It didn't make sense, Sofia knew. Not the conclusion the police came to, and not the one she came to either. But she was starting to see the bay for what it really was; a possibly malevolent entity that seemed all too willing to intervene in her affairs. Just like someone else she knew.

Summer passed, slow and cool, stormy and grey. Avenby experienced the season only technically, the temperatures never rising higher than fifteen degrees Celsius, the threat of rain never more than a mile off. Sofia couldn't sleep on stormy days, would curl up on her bed and watch rain lash the windows, obscuring her vision. The room always felt so small, claustrophobic, and Sofia would panic, as if she were trapped in it. And then Kelsey would show up, having left work early because she had some kind of sixth sense for when Sofia was in distress. When Sofia pointed that out, Kelsey hadn't explained, just laughed and said people have more than five senses anyway, so Sofia kissed her before she could explain what the others were.

One day, some time later though she couldn't say how long, she overheard a conversation between some fishermen drinking at the back of the bar. Something about Comer's boy having such promise and how it was a shame, such a shame. Sofia lingered, willing her ears to pick up more than the odd snippet, but then Miriam called her over to the bar to fold napkins and she retreated with her head bowed.