“What happened to your face, Reyes?”
“I tripped.”
“Into someone’s fist, from the looks of it.”
I grunt noncommittally.
“Message received — none of my business. I’m not looking to make your day worse, kid. Just wanted to stop over and tell you I heard what happened yesterday. About the Ebenezer, sinking in the storm.”
I grunt again.
“Not many secrets on these docks. Word travels fast.” Dee takes another sip of his beer. The foam clings to his thick beard as his throat works. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, kid. Insurance will cover the loss, payout should be plenty for a new boat — or an early retirement. Tommy should be thanking you, far as I can see it. That old rig of his was cursed right from the start. We all told him it was bad luck to give a boat a man’s name, but did he listen? Of course not. That’s Tommy Mahoney for you, though. Stubborn as a damn mule and twice as ornery.”
My lips twist.
He’s not wrong.
“Talkative chap, I see.” Dee chuckles. “Perfect fit for Old Tommy. He never was a chatterbox, either.”
“We get along just fine.”
“That so? Well, I’m glad to hear he hasn’t scared you off the trade entirely. Miserable bastard, he is. Not that you can blame him. Never met a man who’s lost so much in one short lifetime.”
I glance sharply at him, curious despite myself. “What do you mean?
“You don’t know? Ehh, I guess that’s no surprise. He wouldn’t tell you himself. But Tommy Mahoney used to be a family man, if you can believe it. Beautiful wife, three kids, the whole shebang.”
This surprises me. I’d figured someone like Tommy had been alone since the day he was born.
“What happened?” I ask.
“House fire. Tommy was out early one morning, hauling some traps. Came home to find the place burned to ash. His family in their beds along with it. Not even the dog made it out.”
I stare into the dregs of my whiskey, swirling it around the bottom of the glass. My chest feels uncomfortably tight. Suddenly, my bad day — my badyear— doesn’t seem so bleak. “Jesus.”
“Nightmare-fuel, truly. Not sure how a man recovers from something like that.”
“Suppose he doesn’t.”
Dee nods. “No one talks about it… and I ain’t even sure how true it is, so don’t quote me or nothing. But back then, rumor was that Tommy left a stove-burner lit when he went out fishing that day. Fire started in the kitchen, traveled up the stairs while they were all still sleeping… Smoke got to them before they had a chance to run for it.” Shuddering, he takes another long sip of his beer. “Losing your family in a freak fire is one thing. Finding out you’re the one responsible for setting it… Well, you can see why Old Tommy is the way he is.”
I feel like I’ve been clobbered over the head. My chest is tight; my throat blocked with emotions I can’t seem to swallow down, no matter how many sips of whiskey I take. I don’t know if Dee is expecting a response, but he’s not going to get one. I’m incapable of formulating any sort of speech.
There are no words.
Not after hearing that.
In silence, my eyes trace the spiderweb of scars that thread across my wrist, onto the back of my hand. The tangible damage, a visible reminder of the life I’ve lost. Much as I hate to look at them, I think I’d prefer this sort of damage to that Tommy bears. That undetectable, untraceable kind that snakes its way around your soul and sucks the life from your bones.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring your head down, kid.” Dee clinks his glass against mine and laughs stiffly to fill the silence that’s descended over us. “Mostly just came over ‘cause I wanted to tell you that I’ve seen you around the docks. You’re a hard worker.” He pauses carefully. “One of my stern-men just up and quit on me. Right before peak season, the son-of-a-bitch. I assume you’re out of a job, what with the Ebenezer sitting on the bottom of Salem Sound. You give me a shout if you’re looking for a new gig.”
Before I can reply, Dee grabs his beer and vanishes into a shadowy corner, where several other regulars are shooting pool on an ancient table with peeling green felt. Leaving me there to nurse my drink and wonder how on earth I’m ever going to meet Tommy’s eyes again.
That’s the thing about seeing someone else’s damage.
You can’t ever unsee it.
Harvey doesn’t even ask if I want another round. He simply leans over the bar and pours, until my glass is once more full of amber liquid. I drink until the world goes out of focus, stumbling home on unsteady legs under the cover of darkness. But even after I’ve fallen into bed, water-stained ceiling swimming in and out of focus overhead, I cannot shake the desolation clenched like a fist around my heart, or the grim sadness pounding through my veins like poison.