24. Troy
Milly is standing in my kitchen with her arms folded, leaning against my counter, looking at me with a death glare. She arrived far too early this morning. So early, in fact, that my eyes are still half-closed as I stand and make my coffee.
“Why not?” she demands.
“Because I don’t want to,” I say listlessly, still missing the warmth of my bed.
“But it will do you a world of good.”
“I don’t want to feel good.” I shrug.
“Oh, come on, Troy. You can’t go on like this,” Milly says. “A few days away will take your mind off things.”
“No, Milly, it won’t,” I say determinedly. “I’ll just be miserable somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else with me,” she reasons with a slight smile.
When she arrived, I hadn’t even gotten the chance to close the front door before my little sister, bubbling with excitement, proposed that we go away for a few days. I was still trying to figure out what day it was.
Struggling to form words as we made our way into the kitchen, I flicked the coffee machine on and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. She declined coffee, which is probably a good thing. She’s buzzing like a hornet already.
With my steaming mug now in hand, I rest against the counter opposite her and take a tentative sip. It’s hot, just the way I like it.
“Please, Troy,” she begs.
She’s trying too hard, and I sense an ulterior motive under her pressing need.
“What’s this really about, Milly?” I ask, eyeing her suspiciously.
“What do you mean? Can’t I just want to go away with my big brother?”
I’m still not buying it. “What? Just like that?” I snap my fingers.
She drops her head and sighs. “After I dropped you off the other day, your words got me thinking. If you’re going to leave Cherryville, I’m not going to see much of you.”
“I’m not leaving the country, Milly.”
Her eyes meet mine then, and a deep frown furrows her brow. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me when you left?” she says, her voice sounding pained.
Her question catches me off guard, and I look at her, feeling a little bewildered.
“I know you didn’t want to go. And I know your heart was broken, Troy. But while you lost Charlie and Mom and Dad, I lost my big brother. The guy who had always been there to protect me, to make sure I was okay, to laugh at my silliness and jokes. Just like that, you were gone.”
“Milly,” I say softly. I’ll be honest; I had not once considered how my absence would affect Milly. At the time, I was too consumed with my feelings for Charlie. “I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t, because I didn’t tell you. You were distraught, so I pinned on my smile whenever we spoke. You were going through enough without having me whining at you.”
“You should have said something.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” she counters. “But now, you’re going to leave me again. I know it’s not Paris, but it’s not going to be close, either, is it? I’m not going to be able to just pop in and see you on my lunch break.”
“We’ll still see each other.”
Milly shakes her head. “Not half as often as I would like. I know how busy you’re going to be. It’s part of being a chef, right?”
I can’t disagree, and instead of lying, I just shrug.
“Exactly. So, when you said you were going to leave, I called my boss and scheduled some days off, then booked a small cottage on the coast.”
“You’ve already booked it?” I gawk.
“Yep. I just thought, you know, before you left, we could have a couple of days of it just being us.”
After everything she’s just told me, I can hardly say no, can I? Even if all I really feel like doing is crawling back into bed. If nothing else, I owe it to her. I put my whole family through a traumatic experience when I left. I just hadn’t realized how deeply it had affected Milly.
I take another sip of my coffee, and then I sigh heavily. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Milly beams a delighted smile and then launches herself at me. “Yay!”
Swiftly, I lift the arm holding my mug high in the air to save either of us from wearing its contents as she throws her arms around me.
“Thank you, Troy.”
* * *
It takes nearly three hours to get to the cottage, which, as Milly explained on the journey, was the reason she arrived at my house so early. We stopped at a tiny town five minutes from our destination to get supplies, and now we’re back on the road.
I’ll admit it; as depressed as I’m feeling, even I can’t help but be impressed when we pull into the driveway of the cottage. It’s situated on a clifftop overlooking a sandy beach and the gray-green ocean.
“Oh, this is so much better than the photos,” Milly declares, jumping from the truck and heading straight for the edge of the cliff.
I grab the groceries and meet her at the front door. She retrieves the key from under a large plant pot, nearly jumping with excitement, and unlocks the door before diving inside. I, on the other hand, have to duck a little so as not to hit my head. It really is an old cottage.
With the groceries put away, we find a winding path down the cliff that takes us onto the beach. The soft, warm wind tugs at our clothes and Milly’s hair. The smell of salt and sand mixes with the fresh air—which, I can’t deny, does have a cathartic sense about it.
We walk in silence at first; I think we’re both too in awe of our surroundings. After a little while, Milly asks me what Paris was like, specifically about the women there.
I shake my head. “I didn’t spend enough time with any of them to be able to make a judgment.”
“You’re telling me that you stayed celibate for ten whole years?”
My mouth twitches with a slight smile. “Not quite. That said, there was never anyone serious. I went on a few dates, but the longest I ever dated one woman was a month.”
“Why?” Milly frowns.
“I was too busy. Like you said before, chefs never stop.”
“Surely, that couldn’t have been the only reason,” Milly counters.
“No. It wasn’t,” I say wistfully. “Even though I was so far away, I never forgot about Charlie. I’ve come to realize that I never stopped loving her, and none of those women over there could ever compare.”
“If you still love her, why aren’t you fighting for her?”
I heave another sigh. “Because it’s not what Charlie wants. She’s made it very clear she never wants to see or hear from me again. I have to respect that, Milly.”
We make our way back up to the house after that. While I light the barbecue and grill the meat, Milly chops salad. We eat burgers and drink beer, watching the sun go down. The huge, roaring globe of fire spreads an orange rippling reflection across the ocean, which is more than breathtaking.
Wrapped in blankets, we stay outside until we can see the stars twinkling in the clearest sky I’ve seen in years. There’s no light pollution out here, and Milly, gasping with wonder, cannot believe how many stars she can actually see. We retire to bed much later, both relaxed but tired.
The next morning, I wake to the smell of bacon. Strolling into the kitchen, I see Milly standing at the stove, swaying back and forth like there’s music playing. But I can’t hear anything. It takes me a minute to realize that she’s wearing headphones. Fearful of making her jump, lest she burn herself, I give her a wide berth until she catches me in her peripheral vision.
“Morning,” she says, plucking an earphone from her ear. “Pancakes?”
“Sounds great.” I nod.
I put coffee on and then wander out to the deck. The sound of waves rushing back and forth over the beach is the most soothing sound I’ve ever woken up to, and breathing in the salty air, I wonder if I could find somewhere to live just like this. I’d be away from all the hustle and bustle of everyday life. And after a hectic day in the kitchen, this would be the perfect place to return to.
We eat breakfast outside with little conversation and then get dressed and head back down to the beach.
“It really is beautiful here,” I say, my feet sinking into the golden sand.
We take our shoes off and wade into the freezing cold water. Milly squeals at how cold it is, but I find it soothing. I can’t explain, but the cold seems to settle my thoughts.
We return to the house a few hours later and spend the afternoon drinking beers on the deck. Milly does a good job of lifting me out of my depressed mood by regaling me with hilarious stories of her life since I’ve been gone. Listening to her, I realize how much of her life I’ve missed.
I allow myself to consider how one single decision affected so many lives, and regret washes over me. I should have stayed. I should have told Mr. Woods where to shove it. I should have grabbed Charlie from his clutches and persuaded my parents to let her move in with us. There had been options. I was just too young and immature to see them back then.
We eat dinner out on the deck again. Sometimes, the conversation flows; sometimes, we sit quietly in the dark, just listening to the ocean. When it’s time for bed, Milly gives me a great big hug.
“I love you, you know.”
“I love you too, Titch.”
When I settle into my own bed and close my eyes, I know I’m going to remember this weekend for years to come. Milly was right. We had lost so much time. But whatever happens going forward, I’m determined to make sure that this doesn’t happen again.
We pack up the next morning, clean the house, and leave the key under the plant pot where we found it. We’ve got a long drive back, but Milly’s already organizing the playlist.
As broken as I feel inside, I make the effort to be present with her, and we sing along to songs we grew up with. The oldies are far better than the new music, in my opinion.
The hours fly by, and pretty soon, we’re approaching home. Cherryville, the town I grew up in and loved. The town I returned to in the hope that I could make a better life for myself. And the town I’m going to have to leave again to maintain my sanity.
As we’re turning onto my street, Milly’s phone rings.
“Hello?”
She listens as whoever’s on the other end of the phone speaks.
“What? Are you sure?” she blurts.
I’m frowning and wondering what has her so flustered, but she’s listening again, her face working in all sorts of ways.
“All right. We’re coming now,” she says hurriedly.
Hanging up the phone, she stares at me, wide-eyed. “Turn the truck around,” she commands. “Someone saw smoke coming from the restaurant. We need to go. Now.”