Silent Harbour

Chapter 18: And If History Repeats?

May 15, 2012

Adele settled onto her familiar perch, nestled within the alcove of the gneiss wall, the gentle lapping of the water against the shore like a familiar rhythm. Beneath her feet, the thin layer of gritty sand coating the tops of the rocks is ever-grounding and familiar. The refreshing, briny breeze blowing from the lake is a welcomed distraction from the day's intensity. Beyond the horizon, the sun approaches its full descent, casting a soft tangerine glow onto the darkening, undulating waters.

Today, she is seventeen, but she doesn't feel it. She feels much older. While her peers celebrated the start of the slow and forgiving transition to adulthood, a celebration of youth, of newfound independence, and of new beginnings, to Adele, it feels like just another day, a reminder of the responsibilities and expectations that weigh her down. Her youthful prospects feel distant, sacrificed to reality.

The abrupt move in the middle of spring break meant bidding farewell to her childhood home, friends and, most painfully, her parents' warmth and affection. A fresh start. That's what her mother called it. To Adele it felt more like a forced reset. Starting over just a couple towns over, where no one holds knowledge of the events that transpired earlier in the year. Her hope, albeit naive, was to fade into the background, coast through what was left of the school year, and treat next fall as a blank slate. Unsurprisingly, the arrival of a new student so close to the end of the year was at the forefront of the gossip mill in the halls.

It's easy to conjure up fantasies of how her parents will celebrate the occasion because they're just that – fantasies. Last year, just a few weeks before the beginning of the end, the festivities would undoubtedly involve a reservation at her favourite restaurant, and a gift she'd been eyeing through the windows at the mall. This year, it's a different story. No special breakfast. No hugs before leaving the house to head to school. And when she gets back, surely no one will be waiting for her return to bombard her with kind and comforting words. It's remarkable how quickly everything changes in just a matter of a year. One trip around the sun, one trip to the hospital, and one trip to Silent Harbour – a town with barely enough residents to qualify for the designation yet somehow substantial enough to warrant installing a massive welcome sign off of the main entrance roads.

The sound of a twig snapping in her periphery wrenches her from her pity-party musings. Making quick work to fist her hand around the nearest rock, she winds her arm back, ready to strike against the intruder.

"Woah, woah, woah, I come in peace," assures the trespasser as he steps into view. "And really? That rock is the size of an acorn, so unless my name is Alvin, Simon, or Theodore, you're out of luck with your weapon of choice."

"It's all in the arm, Peter. I could throw a pebble and make it hurt just as bad as if I were to throw a bowling ball," I quip. "Besides, what are you doing here? Come to stare at the back of my head the same way you do in anthro?"

"First, as if. Don't flatter yourself. Second, it's hard not to stare at a replica of Medusa's head of snakes. All jokes aside, Adele, have you ever heard of a hairbrush?"

These words would have come across as cruel, hurtful even, if they had come out of anyone else's mouth, but Peter was grinning benevolently, his tone familiar and reassuring.

"Hey, at least I've got a full house and not a bird's nest upstairs," Adele retorts, a hint of amusement in her voice as she tousles her unruly locks.

Peter's lighthearted laugh breaks through the wind as he feigns embarrassment and clutches at the ends of his own hair, which is longish but sparse compared to her own.

Peter chuckles, shaking his head, "but in all seriousness, I didn't mean to startle you. I saw you sitting out here on your own and thought you might be open to some company."