10. If That Helps You Sleep at Night
If That Helps You Sleep at Night
LILLIAN
The next morning, I wake up to my travel playlist, a combination of powerhouse female musicians like Fiona Apple, Aimee Mann, and Patti Smith. I’m supposed to meet Matt at the docks which means no more hiding. None at all.
I decide to get an English Breakfast tea from the Half-Hitch before heading to the docks. It’s not chai, but it’s better than nothing. Once I leave the cabin, I notice it’s sunnier today, which reflects in my mood as I head to the Half-Hitch jauntily with a smile on my face.
When I arrive, I see a man leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette. He looks like a true mountain man: deep and craggy wrinkles, dark hair overrun with salt, and a wild beard to match. He stares at me as I approach, and determinately tosses his cigarette down and snuffs it with a stomp.
As if he’s been waiting for me, he slides his hands in his pockets and steps forward, blocking the door. “You’re the girl.”
He doesn’t say it like he’s a fan. “Sorry?”
If I hadn’t had an interaction with a bear just yesterday, this would be way more intimidating than it is. “Listen, my son’s a bit soft around the edges and sometimes doesn’t know what’s good for him, but he’s one of us. You got that?”
His breath is sour and smoky which is altogether unpleasant.
I try to add up all the things he’s saying to understand, but his words are coming fast, and my brain is working slow. “Your son? Are you Matt’s dad?”
He ignores my question. “I don’t know what you’ve said to him or what you’ve done to get on his boat, but I’m warning you not to get too comfortable.” He says it in a lascivious, dripping way.
“What I’ve done?” Like I’ve . . . “How dare you insinuate something like that.”
He stares at me. Through me. His beady eyes are like spiders crawling over my skin.
“I’m here to do a job. That’s it.”
“If that helps you sleep at night,” he says, voice like scraping gravel.
My stomach dips, and for a split second, I feel like crying. To have my intentions misunderstood repeatedly is one thing. To be made out as some sort of villain, someone who is trying to hurt, is another.
The door to The Half-Hitch swings open, and I’m prepared to step out of the way until Gwen appears, hand on her hip. “Dad, what are you doing?”
“Just talking,” the man mumbles.
“Sure, you are,” Gwen snaps, then waves her hand away from the door. “You’re driving away customers.”
Her father turns but takes a second to glower at me. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving.”
Gwen and I watch him lumber over to a rusted red truck. He really does resemble Matt. The frame of him.
Gwen touches my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Are you alright?” she asks.
I rub my chest, trying to calm my nervous system. “That was . . .”
“He can be scary if you don’t know what to do with him. But he’s all bark, I promise.” Gwen gives me a sweet smile that almost erases the unpleasantness of that encounter. Almost. “Come inside.”
The Half-Hitch is nearly full of locals gathered at their tables. I’m starting to recognize a lot of the faces around here. My eyes meet the gazes of a few, and I try to maintain an easy smile, but their curiosity and judgment are unsettling.
“Tea?” Gwen asks when we get to the counter.
“Please.”
When I pull my wallet out, Gwen shakes her head. “No, no. On the house.”
“Gwen—”
“Not after my father accosted you out there,” Gwen says.
I put my wallet back in my bag, trying to decide what to say. “I really wasn’t prepared for how people would respond to me here.”
Gwen’s eyes, the same as Matt’s, have a sympathetic glean in them. “I really am sorry about him. He hasn’t been the same since my mom passed.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say. They’re hollow words I try to make as emphatic as I can.
Gwen sighs as she pours hot water into a cup. “It’s okay. It was long enough ago now that his bad behavior really doesn’t have an excuse.”
Behind the counter, I notice a little girl sitting on a stool with her head buried in a book with a dolphin on the front, which makes me smile.
Gwen notices me looking. “That’s Winnie, my daughter.”
“Hi, Winnie,” I say.
“Hi,” Winnie says back without lifting her eyes from the page.
Gwen tsks. “Winnie, you have to look at people when you talk to them.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I was the same way.”
Gwen smiles, then places my tea on the counter in front of me. “Winnie, this is Lillian. The scientist.”
Winnie’s eyes shoot up, big and round. “Oh.”
I laugh. “Well, that got your attention.”
“Uncle Matt told her all about what you two did yesterday on the Kvichak, right, Win?”
My heart swells at the idea that he told stories of our time together to his family. That feels nice in a way I’m not terribly familiar with.
Winnie nods. “Yeah, it thounds cool.” Then she smiles, showing off empty spots where her teeth should be.
“Then maybe I can tell you about the studies I did on dolphins when I was in grad school. If dolphins are your thing,” I say.
Winnie’s mouth opens, and she grips her book harder. “Yes. Yes, please.”
Gwen laughs. “Okay, another time, though. You go in the back. I want to talk with Lillian about some things.”
Winnie’s face falls. “Okayyyy.” She hops off her stool and trudges to the door in the back.
“Nice to meet you, Winnie,” I say after her.
She gives me a shy smile over her shoulder before disappearing.
“She’s so cute,” I say.
“Thank you,” Gwen replies with a humorous roll of her eyes. “Anyway, I know people are talking, Lillian. About you.”
“So, I’ve heard.” I sigh.
“I was honestly surprised when Matt told us he took you out on his boat. Matt’s a nice guy, but he’s still a Bristol Bay fisherman. You know, it’s like a secret club that even I don’t know how to get into.”
I lift my tea to my mouth. It’s too hot, steam singeing my nose hairs. “Well, your dad seems to think I did some, let’s say, unsavory things to convince your brother to help me.”
“Dad thinks everyone is doing unsavory things to get anything. It’s his own personal conspiracy theory.”
I blow on my tea, then take a drink. It burns the tip of my tongue. “I appreciate you being nice to me. It’s more exhausting than I realized having people giving me looks all the time.”
“Well, you’ve got a friend in Winnie and me. And Matt too, of course.”
I didn’t know it was “of course,” but I certainly don’t mind that.
“Matt’s a good guy,” Gwen says. “And people respect him around here, which is why they’re a little uneasy he’s decided to help you out. Doesn’t surprise me in the least, but . . . the way they see it, they’re a team. And if you’re not with them, you’re against them.”
My shoulders collapse. “But I am with them.”
“Not to them you’re not,” Gwen says with an apologetic smile.
“You have full-time Bristol Bay families trying to get by, and then you have the seasonal fishermen who have to spend their time away from their families in Anchorage. And that doesn’t even factor in the dynamics between white people and the Aleut. It’s personal.”
“I get it. I really do. Or . . . I’m trying to.”
Gwen nods. “I can tell you are.”
I’m still on edge and don’t want to be here under all the prying eyes of the locals. “I’ve gotta go meet Matt down at the?—”
Gwen starts buffing the counter and throws me a kind look. “Okay. Take care, hon.”
Once I’m safe in the cab of my truck—I can’t believe I’m taking ownership since I hate this thing—I let out a big sigh. What a day it’s been. And it hasn’t even started.
And now I have to get on a boat with more foes than friends.
Joy.