Dark City

61.

The sun was yet to come up, but its faint light shimmered in the gray sky. Tom made a place for himself in the sand along the shoreline. He unscrewed the cap on his Jim Beam and watched the seagulls drifting in circles overhead. The firewater burned in his throat. Part of him knew Lacey was gone. She had been one of those junkies in the cabin burned to a crisp. Tom felt it in his gut.

He could never hold her again, never ask her if she'd seen a movie he liked or laugh at seeing her roll her pretty eyes at his bad jokes.

And for all Tom knew, Nathan had started the fire that killed her. Every day that he kept silent about what he saw was another day he obstructed getting justice for Lacey.

The next shot of whiskey helped him clear his head with the soothing sound of the tide. The more he drank, the less he cared. He floated in his senses, lost in the aromas of salt and sand.

He had known this beach his entire life. It was a quiet, private strip of sand next to a long black jetty of rocks. The dawn encroached. At first he could see the red jewel blazing at the crest of the horizon, but after just a few minutes it was absorbed into the grey sky.

Tom glanced over his shoulder and spotted the beachside mansion that had been his dream house since he was a little kid. His parents brought him to this beach many times when he was growing up. He would build sandcastles, capturing as many details of the powder-blue house as he could. He would pull his mother and father over to bear witness, but all they saw were piles of wet sand.

A year ago he had brought Lacey to this place, had wrapped her in a blanket to protect her from the ocean chill as they waited for sunrise. They shared one of those perfect sunrise kisses just as the golden orb lifted into the sky. He had pointed to the mansion overlooking the beach and said, "See that house? Someday I'm gonna buy you that house."

He really meant it too. That was his dream, buying that ridiculous house and living there with her. Here he was a year later, no house on the beach, no closer to affording it and no girlfriend. Tom finished the bottle.

Two girls walked by wearing purple tie-dye and crystals. Tom looked up and for a second when he caught the girl's red hair in his periphery. He thought he saw Lacey. Another ghost. He kept seeing her face all over town ever since the fire. These girls were dressed in the same bohemian fashion with their dark skirts and long hair. But they weren't Lacey.

"Tom?" one of the girls said. "You okay?"

"What?" He scratched his five o' clock shadow.

"Are you still teaching?" the girl asked. He recognized her suddenly. She was Rebecca, a student from his fencing class.

"No. No, I'm traking a bake." Tom stood in the sand and stumbled forward.

The other girl grabbed Rebecca's arm and said, "Nice meeting you," as she pulled her friend along.

The wind chilled Tom's bare skin, blowing his hair in his eyes. "Can you give me a ride?" he asked them.

"Sure," Rebecca called back.

"Becca!" admonished the other. "What if he pukes in the car?"

"Shh."

She waited up for him and they shuffled toward the pier, following the wooden planks back to the street. Rebecca had a green Volkswagen Beetle with rainbow beads hanging above the dash. Tom fell into her backseat, curling up on his side. The girls closed his door for him.

    "Where to?" asked Rebecca as the engine turned over.

    "West End," he said. "There's a liquor store I want to hit up."

    "I can drive you home."

    "Naw," he said. He didn't want to have to beg, but Rebecca shook her head no. "Just take me to the Shark River Community Club."

"Are you nuts? You're drunk, Tom."

"I want to walk the grounds and sober up," he said. Rebecca sighed and put the car in gear. She drove out to the country club. They pulled in as the sun was rising high enough in the sky to light up the world again. It was like everything was coming back to life, offering new hope.

At least with everybody dead, Liam had likely moved on to another town. Alex had been in rehab. Things were looking up. Nathan could stay in his house getting paler and more disconnected with reality. And Tom could just wander and wander far from Shark River Hills until he forgot that his best friend was a murderer.

The girls dropped him off outside of the community guest house. He saluted them as he stumbled out of the car. He wasn't their problem anymore and the tires squealed as they fled the scene. There were a few old fogeys on the green, enjoying some early morning golf. When they saw Tom, they waved. And Tom waved back. They knew him. They liked him. At that distance he was still just the ambitious young fencing instructor, not the town drunk.

Tom went on into the guest house. He decided he should go on up to his old studio. The hallways were all lit up with morning light. Each room he passed was empty, until one of them wasn't. Tom paused and peeked in the door's window. He saw boxes stacked to the ceiling in a room where the light was on. There were champagne bottles out on the hardwood floor and Alex leaned over them, her long blonde hair falling in front of her face.

Tom approached her. "Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"When did you get back?"

"Literally just now. My mom sent me to make sure our shipment arrived. Look at all this. You'd think she had no idea I had a problem with substance abuse."

Tom knocked into one of the stacks of boxes, knocking them over. Glass inside shattered and champagne leaked through the cardboard folds. "Oops," he said.

"Are you drunk?"

"Sloshed. I could probably use a little rehab, but my folks can't afford it. When you're poor you just become a public nuisance 'til you get thrown in the drunk tank."

Alex giggled. "Come to my party this weekend and drink apple juice with me. It's here Saturday night."

"I could swing that."

She giggled again. She was more like the sweet young girl he remembered. Despite all the ugliness that had consumed his world, he rejoiced knowing this precious girl had been saved.

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Music: Muse "Starlight"