Five Years Later In A Place that Time Forgot

Early November rays of cold white light shone through the curtains. Flecks of dust drifted in and out of the rays, flashing silver and then vanishing. Sarah’s alarm clock sounded. She was twelve years old, still small, still with long dark hair. She rolled over and grabbed her glasses from the chipped bedside table.

Her bed was comfortable and very large for her size. Her brother and cousin had bought it from a dead man’s estate sale when they first arrived. The fact that it had belonged to someone who had died never bothered her. It had nice sleigh curves and a warm-colored wood. Her comforter was powder blue, and she kept a red quilt at the foot of the bed for the nights when the wind snuck through the aged caulking of her closed windows.

She could hear her brother and cousin waking in the other room as their alarm began to sound as well. She stretched her small frame for a moment, then wrapped her comforter around her body and slid out of bed. The cold hardwood floor creaked under her feet as she made her way out of her room and into the hall.

She walked with the uneven gait that her body allowed through its struggle with Cerebral Palsy. Her left knee stayed locked at a slight angle, and when she moved, her right foot swung wide to carry itself forward. Her arms stayed locked at nearly ninety degrees to her sides. Her motor skills were slightly hindered by the never-ending shake her body held all day. Her hands took great effort to steady themselves when she wrote letters or brushed her teeth, but they still trembled.

A few years ago, her brother Aiden had proposed the idea of letting her practice her coordination by painting his and Ethan’s toenails and fingernails. She’d always been interested in the vibrant colors, but when she was very little, none of that was allowed. So she reveled at the chance to experiment with the arsenal of colors and glosses that they surprised her with one afternoon. The boys didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes, she swore she would even catch her grumpy brother smiling as she worked, even if the paint smeared off his nails and onto his skin. That always made her happy to see him smile, because that wasn’t something Aiden did often.

Down the narrow hall she limped. The walls were close together because the house itself was rather old. The wood smelled of outdoors, and the salt from the sea could be caught in the taste of the air on clear nights. Her cousin Ethan had installed a rail for her to hold on to along the hallway, so she was able to move along on her own in the early morning. She passed the living room, which had two couches, some photos on different hodgepodge shelves, and a very dated television that had no cable, only a dusty DVD player.

The other door behind her creaked open, and Ethan stepped out. Ethan was of large stature and naturally muscular. His curly black hair was unruly and fell heavily down the sides of his face like a helmet. His beard was thicker for the winter and unshaven along his neck. His chest and arms were covered in small, hastily done tattoos, along with numerous scars and calluses, which Sarah never asked about. Ethan saw Sarah ahead of him and smiled a sleepy grin towards her.

“Morning, little bit,” he said as he rustled her hair.

“Morning homie,” she said. 

Tiny feet shuffled into the kitchen tile, and she wrapped her comforter tighter around her shoulders to warm herself faster.

“Want cereal?” asked Ethan. 

 She nodded to him and caught him drinking milk from the jug.

“Ew, stop!” she laughed. 

 He grinned as he wiped his mouth and began pouring cereal from a bag into their bowls. His fingernails were currently painted gold with glitter coating.

Down the hall, in the same room Ethan came from, the other young man was waking. Aiden didn’t wake to an alarm anymore. He always woke up with the sounds of his sister getting ready. He was still lean, and handsome, with angled cheeks and dark, deep-set eyes. His hair was cut short, medium brown, and slightly thinning, with a moderately scruffy beard like Ethan’s. Dark bags perpetually hung under his eyes. He, like Ethan, also had brightly painted nails, his currently being silver, with the edges painted light blue.

Scars from lacerations and gunshots covered his arms and torso, which mixed intricately with the numerous tattoos he shared with Ethan. For every one tattoo Ethan had, Aiden had three. For every small scar on Ethan, Aiden had burn marks the size of fists. His body definition was pure sinew, hardened muscle, and rigid tendon. His shoulders seemed to bear some manner of unseen weight that kept his posture rigid.

As the noise of his sister and cousin drifted down the hall into his space, he slowly rubbed his eyes and lifted himself out of bed. He made sure as always to put a shirt on before he reached Sarah. She knew of the scars and tattoos, but he didn’t like her constantly seeing them. He didn’t want them reminding her.

Aiden exited the bedroom and the smell of bacon sizzling on the stovetop drifted to him. He entered the kitchen and joined the other two, who were already halfway through their cereal. He kissed Sarah on the head and hugged Ethan from the side, then silently poured himself a bowl.

“Want coffee?” he asked Ethan as he looked out the window at the greyish-white snow that was left on the ground. 

 “Yeah, sounds good.” Ethan replied.

Isolated, lonesome flakes continued to fall on their own, too light to drift straight to the ground, instead bouncing in the air as though joyfully tossed around by some invisible fairy. Ethan pulled his boot socks on and slid his feet into the faded leather steel-toes he’d had for several years now.

Their clothes were plain, mostly bought at thrift shops and neighborhood dollar stores. They layered to keep warm. Both of the boys’ jeans were stained with oils, grime, and paints from the daily toils of their work. Sarah preferred to wear loose, flowing clothes that were slightly too large for her. They helped her move more freely and secretly helped her feel better about her contorted frame.

Their home was small- a white clapboard on the edge of the cul-de-sac. Its paint was faded from the elements, peeling away at most of its edges, but still, it was quaint and comfortable. Oceanfront wasn’t too far away, and Sarah’s school was less than a mile’s walk up the road. Every weekday morning, the boys would walk with her to class then walk to the docks.

As they walked on the sidewalk, cars would pass them, with each driver knowing them and waving. More often than not, the driver would offer them a ride. They would always kindly decline. They enjoyed walking when the weather allowed. It was good for Sarah’s body, and Ethan thought it would help her emotional confidence. They owned a car; a white 2000 Nissan Altima that they paid for in cash, which they would drive when the weather was too unpleasant.

Their routine for the most part was pretty consistent. On this particular morning, there was one small, subtle difference. As Sarah brushed her teeth, she felt a brief but significant pain in her stomach, then her temples. It was gone as quickly as it had arrived. She paid it no mind and spat her toothpaste in the sink then hobbled to meet the boys.

Trees lined the sidewalk as they made their way to the school. Street lamps began to dim as the sunrise changed from pink to pearl. Colonial and Federal architecture lined the streets, with homes and storefronts sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. Over a small hill to the right, there was an aged windmill, hundreds of years old, which creaked lazily in the idle winds. They passed homes that were lined with white fences and then reached a bronze sign that read, “Welcome to Historic Essex, 1664”. Sarah would always pat the sign as they walked by.

Minutes later they’d reached the schoolyard.

“Feeling alright?” asked Aiden, as he always did. His voice had a gentle but protective tone when he asked, even though her answer had been the same for a thousand days;

“I feel terrible actually. We shouldn’t go to school and work. We should…”

“Go to the arcade, ha ha ha…” groaned Ethan, mocking her.

It was their traditional, knowingly silly saying. Ethan hugged her and Aiden kissed her on the head as she made her way to the doorway. The teacher on parking lot duty waved to the boys as they departed.

At the docks, the water lapped against the support beams with methodical rhythm. The sound was so smooth and consistent, the boys had grown to think of it as common as their own heartbeats. They worked at a small parts store that sold to commercial and recreational barges and boats. They couldn’t afford to leave Sarah alone for weeks on end, so they never took the higher-paying jobs of going offshore with actual fishers for weeks on end.

Their store was rusty, covered in sheet metal and rope. They sold salvaged parts. Once a month, the marina would hold boat auctions in their waters, as patrons from across the region would come up to find deals on spare parts and unwanted rigs. The fog sat heavy most days, with the main pier reaching out over three hundred feet into the water. Some days the end wasn’t visible from their shop. The smell of fish always sat thick in the air.

Most days the boys worked together, arriving at 7:45 AM and leaving around 4:30 pm. Sarah would wait for them on the playground, playing her handheld PSP video games that the boys bought for her. Slower, turn-based games worked well with her abilities and gave her imagination something to play with, so they didn’t mind. Often, they would take her a few cities over to get new games from a large franchise store.

Essex's economy was small. There weren’t that many jobs, and the ones that remained were slowly being forgotten by time and change. For the most part, people stuck to their trades their whole life, living rationally within their means. There were no fancy sports cars or ten-bedroom mansions to be seen. Each day, reports would come out highlighting dramatic stimulus plans for major cities, and bailouts for bankers and billionaires, but nothing was ever said about Essex. Like the tide, it continued on endlessly and efficiently, unaffected by the chaos and calm around it.

The boys kept their heads down and their hands dirty. Men in town appreciated them. They were strong, quiet, and dependable. They cared for Sarah and not much else. Parents commended them to one another over dinner meals, complimenting their devotion to Sarah’s normalcy and their lack of interest in the wild tendencies that infected so many young men around their age. More than once, a parent recommended one of them courting their daughter that was of a respectable age. Each time, the boys would kindly decline and offer a name of some other young man in town.

That day, they had a floating processor come through to pick up new compressors for the fridges. It was around 1:30 PM when their phone rang. Aiden answered. It was Sarah’s school nurse. She had fallen at lunch and hit her head on the corner of a table. She didn’t need stitches and showed no signs of a concussion, but she wasn’t feeling well. Aiden asked to speak with her. Sarah got on the line.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, more embarrassed than anything,” she replied.

“Did you lose your footing or slip or something? The floors weren’t too wet were they?” he asked.

Ethan overheard and paused his work to listen.

“No, I just, kinda, blacked out for a second for some reason…” she answered, her voice trailing.

“Well, call us if you don’t think you can make it, and make sure to eat something. Maybe your blood sugar got low,” said Aiden.

“Okay, love you,” she said.

“Love you too Sarah-bug” he replied.

Aiden hung up the phone and shrugged to Ethan before returning to his duties.