Celadon Bay - Book One

Brothers in arms I

One might imagine that, this late at night, my day would have come to a close, but all it takes is reaching the stretch of coast closest to home to know I'm wrong, as usual. Martin is also up for some night beach time; I can see him gazing up at the crescent moon, hands in pockets, letting the lazy waves wash over his bare feet.

I walk up to him, cupping some water in my hands to wash my sweaty face. If he notices me or not, I can't tell. But you should know the drill by now: this is Martin, and as a rule, he just can't handle silence.

"Let's just count up all the facts, shall we?" Martin says in his rare, hushed voice. Will this be my last time hearing it? Wow, I really should stop asking that stupid question.

I make an attempt at humor. "But you suck at math."

He abandons the moon to look at me, and he's not one bit amused. He takes one hand out of a pocket, carefully examining it as he flexes his fingers. Is he going to punch me or something?

"Number one: two days ago, you left home for school without me," he says, holding up an index finger.

"Guilty as charged."

Once again, he is not amused. "Number two: you fought with your mother. And later with freaking Vee. And I had to hear about it from Alex."

"Yeah, but—

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not done."

I raise both hands in the air, allowing him to proceed.

"Number three: Just when I finally think you've actually grown a pair, you go and ruin everything by motherfucking apologizing to your mother, who is the reason why this fine heap of shit is happening in the first place. And again, I have to hear it from Alex."

He pauses after making this point, making these 'three facts' feel as though they weigh three tons. "It's no wonder, though, since it's been days since the last time we actually had an actual conversation, the way we used to before lights out. That, John, is number four."

I rub my eyes with my palms. Marty is pissed, obviously, but right now I don't want to deal with it. I'm too much of an emotional mess to have to put up with his crap too. But, he's not done.

"And now you sneak out at night like a squeaky dirty rat. Without me." He stretches out his palm for me to see, holding up his thumb. "That's number five." His emerald eyes return to the moon above. "And you know something, John? I'm starting to see a pattern here, my friend."

For some reason, the last two words tug a heartstring deep inside me. It doesn't take long to register the subtle pang of guilt, and once I do, it's an unmoving beast; a giant blue whale stuck in the sand between us.

"You think I'm trying to push you out of the picture," I say.

His hushed voice escapes from between his gritted teeth. "I think you're trying to walk away from my own picture, and that's pretty shitty of you, John."

"That's not true and you know it!"

"Oh, isn't it? It sure looks like it to me!"

We both look out at the waves. There's a sudden cold wind blowing from the south that tosses our hair around, but other than that, we're both still as stone. Martin breaks his own record for staying silent by a long shot. I scratch my shin with the opposite foot, and the movement is enough to snap him out of his trance.

"It feels as if you've already gone to Maple Heights along with your mother, dude. And that's scary as fuck, you know?"

I look at him, trying to comprehend what he means by that. Again, just like that last night we had our day-review time, I fail to understand that this whole thing with Grandma isn't a hundred-percent just about me. He settles back in using his hushed voice; the one that I like best.