“I’ll go.”
Graham left the bonfire and trudged through the sand until he caught up with Grady. They walked quietly, side by side, until they reached the surf. The brothers stood there, absorbing the peace and quiet.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“You can tell me anything, Grady.”
“Most of the time, I wish I had died on the boat that night.”
Graham let the words sink in. He couldn’t imagine his life without his twin. On the other hand, he hated what Grady’s drinking had done. Not only to himself, but to their family as well. Graham put his arm around his brother’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “Someday, I hope the demons go away, Grady. I miss my brother and my best friend.”
Grady inhaled harshly, almost as if he fought back tears or even rage. “I miss him, too, but he’s long gone, Graham. He’s buried out at sea with Austin.”
Those words haunted Graham. Ever since Grady spoke them, Graham had been at a loss for how to get through to him. To get him the help he needed even though he didn’t want it. Some nights were worse than others. Graham had a lot of anger and resentment toward Grady and even Austin. If they had made better decisions, his life would be different. It would be where he wanted it to be. When nights like this existed, nothing worked. Graham would simply avoid crawling into bed and would opt for the sofa or the chaise on his patio, although he found he never really slept when he was out there. He loved the ocean, but it haunted him as well.
The foghorn sounded again, and Graham groaned. He had hoped the weather would clear for Thanksgiving, that maybe the rain would stop, and the sun would come out . . . anything Mother Nature could do to help improve the day he dreaded already. He glanced toward his sliding glass door. Long black curtains hung, blocking any light from seeping into his room. Beyond those doors was a deck facing the water, with two chairs and a small table. It was where he went to think and relax. Where he often sat in the early hours of the morning, watching the ships leave port, and where, when he had a rare night off from the bar, he’d watch the sunset.
Living on a houseboat had its challenges but also had many perks. Friends came to visit but rarely stayed. His place was small, tiny by most people’s accounts, yet perfect for him. Space was an issue, and he barely fit himself. If his shoes had a bit too much lift, he’d brush his head on the low-lying ceiling. He had to duck under doorways and slouched when he had to do the dishes. The bathroom wasn’t big enough to do much in either. Graham had to replace the showerhead with one that came with a detachable hand shower, and when it was time to shave, his arm brushed against the wall. His bedroom wasn’t anything to write home about, either, with his bed taking up most of the space. His bedroom was by far the biggest space, occupying the full length of the house. When he bought the houseboat, there had been two bedrooms. He and Bowie removed the wall between them to give Graham more space. He had a small closet, a little storage, and still washed his clothes at his parents’. Still, he wouldn’t give up the houseboat for anything. He loved living on the water and felt at peace there. The quiet, serene moments were worth the hassle of missing modern-day amenities.
Graham threw his covers back and sat up slowly. His head already throbbed, and he would bet money the pain was only going to get worse as the day went on. He rotated until his bare feet touched the hardwood floor, and his toes wiggled, which made him laugh. Before him, the black-covered sliding glass door called to him. As much as he wanted to confirm the doom and gloom, the foghorn warned him that coffee and aspirin were more important. Still, he stood and made his way the few steps from his bed to the door and pushed the curtains aside, sighing. He longed for summer, when the sun lingered high in the sky and cast an orange-yellow-red-and-pink glow over everything. When he could look out from his room and have to squint, and he could feel the heat penetrating through the glass. He had months until those days would return, and until then, he would have to cope with the winter blues.
Graham placed his bare feet onto the planks of his narrow stairway. Brooklyn called it a floating staircase, held together by suspension cables to give off the illusion of a bigger houseboat. The perfect concept for tight, confined spaces.