Chapter 42 Garrick
Garrick
‘This is a dumb idea,’ I say, trudging behind my three brothers as we walk the lengths of Pirate Adventure. The ride lights are on, the soundtrack at a low hum for ambience but not to overpower our conversation.
‘No, it’s not,’ Ivor says from up ahead, leading the charge to the whispers of a sea shanty.
It was his idea to do this. I guess he thought since it’s New Year’s Day it’s a time for new beginnings and putting the past behind us.
I’m all for the forgetting part; I’ve plenty of things I’d liked scrubbed from my brain.
Aldrich slows his pace to match mine. ‘Yeah. Besides, I want to see it.’
The it in question is the time capsule we buried when Aldrich was five. He wasn’t allowed to wander among the water canals in this ride like we were at the ripe old age of seven. Technically, we weren’t supposed to either, but it was Ivor’s idea, and he promised not to tell Mom and Dad.
I can’t remember what I put in there. Something to do with fencing, maybe? I was in full-blown obsession mode. I know I debated for days about the right thing to pick.
‘I thought we said we’d open it fifteen years later.
We still have five more to go.’ I don’t know why I’m dragging my feet.
Looking at my presents early is a time-honored tradition in Garrickland, but this feels like the last piece of the person I was before Mom died.
Before everything changed and we all had to become new people.
The kids who buried this still had their whole family and no reason to believe that would ever change. The naivety of youth I wish I still had. I clamp my jaw shut, molars grinding together.
The water moves along slowly, no boats aboard it today as we walk past the pirates singing their shanties and the fires burning from their raiding.
The familiar scent of smoke brings me back to the days spent pretending we were real pirates.
We spent whole days here in the off-season.
Sometimes, we’d even sneak in when guests were on the boats and try to scare them.
Actually, that might be the origin of the ghost stories.
Tristian glances back at me, offering a smile. He can always read my mind – twin powers and all. I used to wish we were identical because I wanted to switch places and play tricks on people. But knowing Tristian, he’d probably be too honest to let us get away with it.
We drew a map to remember where we buried it, but scale and distance weren’t exactly top priority.
I was more worried about getting the coloring of the gold and jewels just right.
We hit our shovels into the ground in the area we know it has to be – the tiny fake island scene with sand and animatronic crabs.
It felt bigger when we were kids. Now, the four of us barely fit on it.
It takes a few tries, but we manage to hit the payload.
‘It’s smaller than I remember,’ Ivor says, heaving the treasure box from the sandpit. Not much effort is required for the small shoebox we covered in construction paper and treasures draw in crayon.
I lean down, brushing off the sand. ‘Last chance to change your minds.’
Ivor places his hand on my shoulder. ‘Time to move forward, Garrick.’ A heavier weight penetrates those words.
The bottom of the box is fragile. The edges of the cardboard have worn soft over time.
Even though there’s no movement on this fake beach set – the ride boats only glide by the scene – I feel like I’m swaying.
Ivor holds the box with care, rubbing his hand over the top one last time before opening the lid on its hinge.
Inside are pieces of yellowed notebook paper, where we scribbled down dreams for our future.
Tristian and I were seven, so our dreams consisted of big things – BIG in capital letters.
Mine is a picture of me as a world champion fencer – complete with a whole neck of gold medals.
I remember taking so much time to draw this, even though I can’t recall what else I put in the box.
The memory of me scrapping and restarting every time I messed up is as fresh as if it were yesterday.
Tristian’s shows him among ruins in a castle with the Eiffel Tower and the Leaning Tower of Pisa in the background.
I guess no one told him that Italy and France are different countries.
Ivor’s picture is a bit more straightforward.
It’s him with a family. Both the one he already had – three brothers and a mom and dad.
Plus, the one he wished to have when he grew up, with several kids and a partner standing next to him.
‘Let’s get to the good stuff,’ Aldrich says after we’ve removed the pictures.
‘I want to see if there’s any real treasure.
Because you guys are terrible artists. Guess I’m the only one who got that gene passed down.
’ I shove him with my shoulder, and he grabs my arm so he doesn’t topple off the island into the water.
My picture isn’t going to hang in any museums, but it’s not nearly as bad as Tristian’s or Ivor’s.
‘All right, calm down.’ Ivor pulls his item from the box. It’s a silver participation statue from the spelling bee he did in sixth grade.
‘That’s what you put in here?’ Aldrich frowns, clearly losing interest by the minute.
Ivor scratches his beard. ‘Yeah, because I didn’t win.
I didn’t want to have a trophy around that showed that I was just mediocre.
’ He brushes dust off the plastic person on top holding a letter ‘A’.
‘You know what, now I’m kind of proud of it.
I’d always been a performer, we all have.
But I was scared to go up and spell in front of everyone.
And I’m proud that I did, even if I sucked and got out first.’
I remember Ivor struggling with spelling as a kid, but I never thought about how it might’ve affected him.
Tristian takes his treasure out next. It’s an old leather journal with a collection of stamps from around the world.
‘You guys put really boring stuff in there.’ Aldrich fakes an exaggerated yawn. ‘I thought we were going to find actual cool things.’
‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ I say. I remember Tristian used to collect stamps from everywhere. Not just other countries but states, too. He would put them in order of importance based on where he wanted to visit. I guess he’s always had aspirations to go further than the walls of FTG.
Tristian’s lips curve into a smile as he flicks through the colorful pages. When we get home, I’ll probably see these pinned to his corkboard in his room. I hope someday he does get to all those places and brings me back souvenirs from each one.
‘Looks like you’re last.’ Ivor passes the box to me.
My hands shake, and I don’t know why I’ve got this churning in my stomach. When I reach into the box, my finger brushes a cool gold coin. My hand freezes as I go for the tarnished currency. ‘No way,’ I whisper.
‘Finally, someone put some actual treasure in here.’ Aldrich grabs for it, but I push him away.
Running my thumb over the metal, I clear the grime away. Embossed into the surface is a knight. I toss the box into Tristian’s hands and reach into my pocket.
I withdraw the coin that Ripley gave me for Christmas. It’s an exact match. I knew when she gave it to me I felt something, but I couldn’t remember why it seemed so familiar. Now I do. I found the same one once when I was with Tristian, looking for stamps.
‘You already have one?’ Tristian peeks over my shoulder.
A sudden lump builds in my throat, and I have to clear it several times before I can get the words out. ‘Ripley gave it to me for Christmas. Said it reminded her of me.’
I stare at the two, both aged in different ways. Mine from being hidden away in a box for ten years, but who knows what adventures this other guy had.
‘So, Ripley, huh?’ Tristian finally says after a few minutes have elapsed. ‘Anything more you’d like to tell us about that situation?’ His voice rises a few octaves, like he already knows the answer.
Ivor’s hand is on my shoulder. ‘Come on, Garrick, you know we’re not dumb.’
‘I don’t actually know that.’ The automatic, witty response leaves my lips. I sigh, clenching both coins in one hand as I rub my face with the other. Pressure builds in my chest as I stare at the fake cave walls. ‘I don’t know.’
What is there to say?
‘Well, we can get out of the way the obvious,’ Tristian says. ‘You like her. But ever since yesterday, you’ve been off. So I’m guessing something happened?’
‘Which means you’ve been a sulky, moody jerk,’ Aldrich pipes up, then adds quickly, ‘No offense.’
‘We broke up. I guess. I don’t know.’ I kick the toe of my shoe into the soft sand. ‘I didn’t think I wanted what Ripley and I had, or would have had if we’d kept going. Seemed easier to stop while we were ahead.’
It was definitely not easier to stop, but it might be in the long run. This momentary gut-wrenching pain will vanish and I’ll be better off for it.
‘You can’t keep doing that,’ Ivor says. ‘I know that when Mom died we all coped in our own way. It was easier to pretend that you didn’t want to get close to anyone because it would just end in the pain that Dad had.
But let me tell you, having James was the best possible thing I could ever have had to get me through it.
And I know, as much as it sucks, we’re going to have more times in the future that aren’t going to be the best. And I would hate for you to do that without someone by your side. ’
‘Aren’t I going to have you three losers?’
‘Of course you are. But sometimes you need a different kind of love.’
I lick my lips, nibbling on the skin. ‘When I saw Ripley taken away in the ambulance, it was like Mom all over again. It brought back every terrible feeling from that time and I panicked.’ Rubbing at the center of my chest doesn’t cut the ache. ‘I couldn’t deal and I made a rash decision.’
‘We all do that, sometimes,’ Ivor says. ‘Doesn’t mean you can’t fix it.’
Fixing it might not be enough to stop all the collateral damage. ‘This reality show was supposed to find me love. If I pick somebody who isn’t even on the show, what’s that gonna do for FTG?’
I can see the wheels turning in Tristian’s head. ‘The show is about true love, right? Just like the FTG story. So, maybe the audience would like to see that true love can find you, no matter where you are.’
I scrunch my face. ‘Dude, you’re so sappy now.’
Aldrich snickers beside me.
‘But I really messed up with Ripley. You should’ve seen her face.’ My chest aches when I picture it. ‘There’s no way she’ll forgive me. And besides, she said she doesn’t believe in love, and I definitely reaffirmed to her that it hurts.’
She’s way smarter than I am, so she may not be willing to give it another try.
But I’m not going to let that stop me.