Chapter 18
SIX MONTHS LATER
“Guess how many views now?” I ask Dean, shielding my phone from his view as we sit together on the sofa at his mother’s house. There are various snacks on the table in front of us. We got here early this morning to help prepare for Sierra’s high school graduation party.
“I don’t know…eight-hundred thousand?” He suggests, shoveling a handful of kettle corn into his mouth, reading some article on his phone.
“Wrong. More. It’s almost one million.” I show him excitedly, handing him my own phone.
“Wow. That was damn fast,” Dean remarks, scrolling through the comments. “They really seem to like it.” He hands me back my phone and shows me his. “Check this out. Pitchfork calls it ‘An essential folk-rock hit’”.
“I know,” I’m proud. “The support has been incredible.” We only released the music video for Andy’s BETTER YET last night, and when we went to sleep, it had a measly two hundred views.
This morning, it jumped up to a steep 10,000 but now, I can’t believe it.
I can’t even imagine 90-something thousand people in the same room.
“Hey, you guys, you can’t steal my day with this.” Sierra pops her head into the living room. “It’s my party.”
“We know it’s your party, Sierra, it’s all you’ve been talking about the last week.” Dean rolls his eyes. “We’re leaving soon anyway.”
“But we’ll be back in time for your party!” I beam a smile at her. We’ve spent a lot of time together over the last few months as Sierra took the SATs and applied to colleges. She got into The University of Maine last month, and Dean and I were beyond proud of her.
“You better be home in time. Mom needs someone to do the grilling. She’s busy getting the cake!” Sierra calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve told you like a thousand times, I’ll do it. Just make sure you defrost the meat. Did you take the chicken out?” Dean reminds her.
“Oh, shit.” Sierra’s chair clatters as she stands up and rushes to the freezer. “Do you think it’s enough time?”
“Party’s at 5, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, it's enough time.” Dean lets Sierra know, as Laura comes through the door with a large sheet cake. “Here give it to me.” Dean takes the cake from her, carrying it into the kitchen.
“Hi,” I greet their Mom with a small hug.
“How are you doing, Madeline?” She asks. “Good to see you again.” I saw her just last week when we all went grocery shopping in Fort Kent.
“Good, how are you?” I ask.
“Good. I just spoke with Eliza. She’ll be here in a few with the decorations.”
“I’ll help hang them when we get back.” I smile.
“Are you almost ready?” Dean asks me, squeezing my arm.
“I’ve been ready. I was waiting for you,” I laugh.
“Let’s get going then.” Dean pulls me up and out of the deep sofa. We say goodbye to Sierra, checking to make sure she’s defrosting the barbecue properly. Heading down the porch, Dean hands me the keys to his truck. “You got this?”
“I got this,” I smile.
Hopping in the truck, I adjust the seat and mirrors, and roll down both our windows.
Dean puts my favorite Arcade Fire album on the stereo.
It’s the first truly hot day of June, the trees are dancing with green and wildflowers dot the main road.
We drive for a bit, the wind blowing in our hair.
Speeding up, I laugh. Even though I’ve had my license for a few months now, I never thought I could be so free.
I never thought I could drive again—but here I am, and I have been for a while now.
“You sound evil with all that laughing!” Dean laughs too, over the wind.
“I can’t hear you!” I pretend not to hear him, still grinning. Pulling into the small, empty gravel lot, we come to a rumbling stop and I park the truck.
Dean hops out of the passenger seat, grabs my tote bag from the back seat, and opens my door for me. He gives me a hand as I climb out. I take my tote from him as he grabs the rest of our things from the bed of the truck. He shakes out sand from our blanket, and spreads it out across the beach.
We sit, and I pull sunscreen, two wraps and a book from my bag. I watch the tide roll up the beach, burying pebbles and shells underneath it. There’s a stray gull here and there, but the shore remains quiet except for us. We take in the idyllic scenery and the serenity of it all.
“You ready?” Dean asks me.
“I think so.” I shed my shirt and shorts, swimsuit already on. I tie my hair up, and Dean removes his glasses, sealing them in a case, tossing them in my bag. We walk towards the water hand in hand.
I put a toe in, and it’s cold, but not bitterly so. I look at Dean, whose freckles are darkening by the second the longer we stand in the sun. His normally dark hair is beginning to show sun-bleached highlights. He gives me a tug, and we walk further into the water, up to our waists.
I know that in a minute, the water will swallow me whole, and I’ll bury my soul in the sand. But I know that I’ll emerge back up from the water, still hand in hand with Dean.
“Are you ready?” I ask him.
“I’m ready.”
“One, two, three!” We sink, way down underneath the surface, and stay down for as long as we can. When we come back, I’m laughing, sputtering for air.
“Fuck, that’s cold,” Dean babbles, his skin puckering with goosebumps. I splash him for good measure.
“I’ll see you out there!” I call, wading further into the water, closer to the center of the pond. I swim a few strokes, and soon enough, I’m in the center of the small lake. Floating on my back, I turn my face towards the sky.
Bobbing up and down, I feel the sun’s rays on my face. They feel so good, so welcomed compared to the cold sting of the water. Squinting, I look at cotton-ball fluffy clouds flying well above my head. I close my eyes and feel the water around me.
I picture the water that’s below me, the water that goes down hundreds of feet down, maybe even a mile. It’s a little murky from all the kicked-up sand, fish and boats, but I don’t mind. I know that I can just wash it all off later.
Life in northern Maine has been treating me well. The sale of my home in York Falls closed a few months ago, and I now rent a small ranch home in Allagash from an elderly woman who was moved into assisted living.
With the money from the sale of the house, I purchased my own vehicle—a blue Subaru Outback I affectionately call Lucy—so I didn’t have to depend on Dean to take me grocery shopping.
I’ve picked a few more clients for my budding virtual assistant business, and Dean helped me get registered for an LLC.
, but I’m thinking about going back to school.
Even though Dean sometimes has weirdly timed shifts at the ER, we still make time to see each other often. Whether it’s breakfast at Two Rivers Restaurant or dinner at my house, or a movie in Fort Kent, he always makes time for me and there’s always something to talk about.
Dean. That man has me in a chokehold.
I’ve had the best sex of my life here. I’ve had the best time of my life here. I finally spot him rowing towards me, in a small wooden rowboat his grandfather built. “Hey, you,” I say, finally getting tired of treading water. “Are you a boat guy now?”
“I hate the outdoors,” He says. “Why did you make me come out here?”
“Because it’s good for you. The sun fixes everything.” I reply. “Now, help pull me up.”
He pulls me up into the boat, and I sit on the small wooden bench, shivering. Dean wraps me in a large beach towel.
“And no, I’m still not a boat guy. Still hate golf too.”
I grin at him.
By the time we reach the shore, I’m exhausted and ready for a shower. We pull the boat up and out of the water and carry it to the truck. Dean loads in the bed, and I hop in the front seat.
This time, Dean drives.
“Want to drive past the house on the hill?” He asks me.
There’s a gorgeous white house on a hill on the outskirts of town on the way home.
Every time we see it, we say if it goes on sale, we have to buy it.
It looks perfect from the outside, with a large wildflower garden in the front, a small wooden porch and a red door.
Driving past, I lean my chin on the windowsill, letting the breeze blow through my damp hair. It’s still not for sale, but maybe one day. A few others have already arrived for the party when we get there, including some Aunts, Uncles and cousins of Dean and Sierra.
We greet them with a parade of hello’s and how-are-you’s and sorry-we’re-smelly-from-the-lake’s.
Quickly, after a shower upstairs, I change into a yellow sundress in the guest room and then take my pills.
I catch a glimpse of Dean through the crack in the door as I do my makeup, fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror.
I smile to myself. I wish I’d known he’d been mine from the start.
He walks into the guest room and wraps me in a back hug.
“How’re you feeling?” He asks me. “You take your pills?”
“Yep, took them just now,” I say, rattling the bottles.
“Time to go downstairs?” He asks.
“Don’t think we can put it off any longer,” I smile, turning around to press a little kiss to his lips. He tastes like mint toothpaste and summertime.
“Hey, wait a second, I think someone’s texting me.” He pulls out his phone. “It’s the house.”
“You’re kidding.” I exclaim.
“Maureen says the owners are listing it. They’re moving to Bangor.”
“Put an offer in. I don’t care what it looks like inside.”
“Well, we’ll have the inspector take a look first, but—”
“I’m telling you. This is your house on the hill. Put in an offer!” I can barely contain my excitement. I can’t wait to be a homeowner again.
“Okay, I’ll try, but—”
“Quickly!”
“I’m texting her, I’m texting her.” Dean laughs, pulling me into a hug, pressing a kiss to my lips. I pull him closer, wrapping my arms around his neck. A kiss that’s sweeter than in my memory.
“Hey! Dean! Madeline!” Sierra calls from the bottom of the staircase. “Stop making out and come downstairs! You need to start grilling!”
I guess that’s what we get for leaving the door open. We break apart, and I go down the stairs first. Dean follows close behind me, his hand on the small of my back. Greeting his relatives on the way, I walk into the kitchen to grab myself a drink while Dean heads outside.
Standing in the doorway, I watch him get the grill ready. The yard is a little overgrown and probably in need of a mow, but it looks like a great place for a party with a small event tent propped up in the yard and string lights hanging from the house to the tent.
“Hey,” Eliza says from behind me. “I’ve got the decorations.”
“Whatcha got?” I ask.
“Streamers, balloons, one of those photo booth kits…” She digs through the plastic bag, handing me the pack of balloons.
“I’ll go find the air pump,” I say, taking the balloons. I remember seeing it in their garage once. I open the door to the backyard, and walk past Dean, who has got several chicken thighs on the grill, and smack his ass while no one’s watching.
“Hey!” He shouts as I walk by.
Giggling, I open the door to the garage and begin searching for the air pump. I know we used it for Laura’s birthday just last month, so it has to be around here somewhere. I search through bags and boxes, but still nothing.
“What are you looking for in here?” I jump, startled by Dean’s voice, knocking a box to the floor.
“Just looking for the air pump.”
“It’s inside the house. I put it in the dining room earlier.”
“Oh—I’ll get it,” I try to move around him, but he’s blocking the door. “You’re in the way.”
“Madeline,” He says, and the way he says it, makes my heart tick a beat faster.
“Yeah?”
“I’m proud of you.” Dean smiles. “You’ve come a long way. And it was all you.”
I smile back at him. I have come a long way.
My heart beating faster doesn’t bother me as much, I can control my breathing when it does, and I haven’t had a panic attack in five months.
I still go to therapy, and I still take my pills, but I’m not reclusive anymore.
I don’t need an iron-clad routine to rule my life.
A year ago, I would have been desperate to sink to the bottom of a pond like a wrecked ship.
But now, I’m swimming better, farther than ever.