Page 1 of Fish Out of Water

1

LEFT BEHIND

“In point five miles, turn left onto Newfish Road,” the smooth, robotic voice of a phone recited.

Jake Wynn glanced down at the phone mounted on his dashboard. His car moved along the map in jerky little bursts as the light blue block of ocean slowly came into view. He looked back up, settling his eyes on the dull gray road ahead.

Trees and dilapidated fence posts flickered by, the only points of interest in an otherwise desolate view. Out here, Jake could go several miles without seeing a single other car. He was the sole traveler on this old, albeit well-kept road, drawing ever closer to the town that would seal his fate for the rest of the year.

Truthfully, his fate had been sealed weeks before, when he got that damning call from his mother asking for just the “tiniest of favors” from him—her words.

It wasn’t fair.

Even as he thought it, Jake knew he sounded like a whiny little bitch. But itwasn’tfair. Healreadyhad a life, chaotic as it had been in the past few months. He had obligations back home. He had a friend group, and hobbies, and everything else that his sister also had, but which his parents respected more.

Or was it fair? He had a life, certainly, but without a job tying him down anymore and no immediate prospects to look forward to, Jake was the obvious choice to help out here. And he had known as much deep down when Alex called a few hours after their mother, offering to take on the burden for him.

“Nah,” he had told her as casually as he could muster. “It makes more sense for me to do it.”

“I really don’t mind,” she insisted. “Like I said, I’m working 100 percent remotely now. I’m sure Aunt Isabel wouldn’t care either. It’s just that you seemed pretty pissed in that text you sent me this morning.”

Jake cringed. “Forget about that. I’d just gotten off the phone with Mom, and, well… y’know how she gets.”

“Yeah, sure. Just let me know if it gets to be too much there. I can always come help.”

“Thanks, Alex.”

Jake hadn’t given a second thought to her offer after he hung up—until now, as he slowed in front of a stop sign, the road stretching out in two opposite directions before him.

“Turn left,” the voice said again. “In one mile, you will be at your destination.”

“Eventide,” Jake muttered. “The greatest place in the world for retirees and nephews being punished by some higher power.”

Heshouldhave made Alex come here instead. She would be the perfect occupant of a tiny coastal town with endless sandy beaches and unassuming neighbors who really just wanted to talk and learn every juicy detail they could about you.

Both Jake and Alex had been to Eventide once when they were kids, when his family visited his aunt and uncle during summer break. Even back then, he’d discovered there was nothing to do around there. Nothing had changed in the last two decades. Nothing ever changed in towns like this one.

The directions on his phone were accurate: not long after he turned down Newfish Road, the houses and businesses of Eventide came into view. Gray and white seagulls with yolky yellow beaks flew over his car, honking obnoxiously. It was quite the welcome.

The air smelled like fish and seaweed and salt, which tickled Jake’s nose and made him want to sneeze—or gag—but the worst part was, he knew he would get used to it over time, and probably end up smelling that rancid himself, just like everyone else here.

Eventide was even smaller than he remembered, and after driving pastEaton Gasand Groceries,Eaton Hardware, another grocery store, andEaton’s Book Nook, Jake reached the residential area of town where he passed narrow little streets, one after another. Aunt Isabel lived down one of these, though the names were so similar, he couldn’t rememberwhichone exactly.

“Conch, cowrie, conus, clam,” he mumbled. “Which one was it? Fuck.” He pulled into a driveway, took his phone off its mount, and pulled up the address again. When he left his old apartment for the last time, he’d tried to enter the exact address into the map. It couldn’t seem to place the house properly, so he had to stick with directions to Eventide as a whole, and that was now biting him in the ass. It couldn’t be thatdifficult to find one house around here.

“ClamStreet. Christ.”

He backed out of the driveway, turned around, and drove back to the cross street for Clam Street. He remembered his aunt and uncle’s house from when he was a kid well enough: it was dark blue with white trim and a ship wheel over the door. It was cute, but a little tacky. He doubted either of them had changed it since he’d last been there.

Sure enough, the house looked exactly the same as the one in his memory, and Jake spotted it immediately. Well, the paint was chipping, and the yard looked a little overgrown and weedy, but otherwise, it might as well have been 2002 again.

A seagull perched outside on the mailbox that was painted to look like a fish, and for longer than Jake cared to admit, he sat in the middle of the street staring at it, trying to figure out if it was real or a mounted prop. Then it flapped its wings and flew into the air, yelling at Jake as it left him behind.

He pulled into the little driveway next to an older silver sedan, parked his car, and got out. The gravel crunched beneath his sneakers as he took a few steps toward the backseat door.

Before he could even get his bags out, the front door opened and a woman with graying hair, once as rich a brown as Jake’s and still just as wavy and thick, came flying down the front steps. She was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a tiered brown floral skirt. She, too, looked almost exactly as Jake remembered her.

“Jakey, you made it!” she cried, pulling him into a tight hug.