180 Days in Montauk

My hands kept clutching my knees and relaxing. "I started writing down everything I could remember and it's like a song you just can't get out of your head. And it all seems so... easy, maybe. Simple. It wasn't back then in Ms. Bennet's class."

I looked out the window for a few beats, watching the scenery pass by.

"I know I sound crazy. I don't want to. I desperately don't want to. I can take it at the clinic, people thinking I'm... off, but I can't handle you thinking about me like that. I think if I can get some books that are a little more advanced I can push it out of my head."

Reaching over, he touched my arm. "It's no problem. We can head over there now."

"Can we try the library instead? I promise, I'll get them back to them in time. No late fees. It's just..." I shrugged. "The library isfree."

"Don't worry about it. Let's see what we can find at Barnacle's."

He must have seen my reluctance. I had been accepting way too much from him lately. And Cynthia, if she'd been paying my bills. And I guessed even Siobhan. Fuck, I'm a leech. If Dink guarded the house, even he brought more to the table than I did.

Finn put his hand on my thigh, just above my knee. It was as electric as that first kiss. "Jen, do you have plans for Monday?"

"Plans? No, I don't have any plans at all. For Monday or, or anything."

"Okay, I'll pick you up at five and you can work with me. I'll be doing some clamming and I could use a hand. I'll pay you the same as I would anyone else, and you can pay me back for the books or anything else you want to get."

"Clamming? I don't know anything about fishing. I wouldn't know what to do."

"Och! You'll be perfect, lassie. You're me selkie that I plucked from the sea. You'll be a natural."

I tried to muffle my laughter. "What the heck was that?"

He had feigned an outraged look as he replied. "You mean my Irish brogue? It's spot on."

"That was like a cartoon version of Scottish. A bad cartoon."

Smiling, he blurted out his fake umbrage. "How dare you, Madam? I'll have you know my Irish accent is perfect!"

"Sure, laddie. Sure."

"So, you in?"

"I'd love to." I turned to face him as he drove. "Thank you, Finn."

He turned on that smile again. "I need the help. It'll be fun."

We spent a while in the quaint bookstore. I took way too much time narrowing the books down to just two. When I went up to the register, Finn followed me, carrying almost every book I had looked at with more than a cursory glance.

"You can pay in installments. It's fine."

I almost started crying. Why was he being so kind? I put my two books down and practically knocked the others out of his hands as I hugged him.

Looking at me as I pulled back, he mumbled, "Best store ever."

As he paid for everything, I gazed at the large framed print hanging on the wall behind the sales person. It was wild. Tens of thousands of people at some huge concert. I immediately thought of my brothers and my friends, wondering if they were worrying about me, ashamed for not thinking of them more often.

Gesturing towards the print, I spoke to the girl bagging the books. "He's great! Is that really his signature?"

She looked over her shoulder. "The guitar guy? Yeah, I guess. The owner's an old guy. He's into all that stuff. You like that music?"

"Oh yeah. Leslie West is amazing. When was the concert?"

"Woodstock? I don't know. '69? '70?"

"No, when they took the photo."

"Yeah, late sixties."

"The... okay, never mind." She seemed nice. Maybe a little slow. I smiled at her as we left.

We continued on our way to his house and I again helped him load some bags and his cooler on his boat. Or yacht. Whatever. He locked Dink in the house, promising the dog that Shiv would be stopping by. I think that Finn actually thought the dog could understand him.

It was midday when we started out. I was free to ogle Finn from behind as he stood there steering the boat. He was, I don't know, dashing in his sun glasses, standing there steering into the sun. I couldn't decide if I preferred him with the sunglasses or when he took them off and I would again see his grey-green eyes.

It was a little cooler than our last cruise, and he loaned me a light jacket. He wasn't aware that he wouldn't be getting it back. It smelled of the ocean and Finn. And maybe a little of Dink, but I could ignore that.

Until we were in the water eating up mile after mile, I had no idea that the 'long' in Long Island was so literal. We stopped in Babylon, Freeport, and eventually in Brooklyn, to stretch our legs, refueling at our last stop. The gas prices were unreal. Or was it diesel? What did boats run on? Regardless, it was nuts. I finally realized that Finn must be rich. He'd just hand over his charge card and didn't seem concerned.

I finishedA Brief History of Time,A Classical Introduction to Modern Number Theory andMath for Mystics by the time we reached Brooklyn. Finn knew what the Fibonacci sequence was but didn't seem interested in discussing the implications. I was fascinated. I started going through the indexes of the rest of books looking to see if any of them had more information when Finn pulled into a pier or slip. I didn't know, I heard mention of both.

"I thought we'd grab dinner in Brooklyn. I have a possible new customer and was thinking we could eat there. Do you like BBQ?"

If Finn was there, burgers and dogs would be fine. "Sure! Sounds good."

"Great. It's on the beach. We can walk there."

Opening a hatch or something, he pulled out a large mesh bag filled with oysters. Maybe I did have some selkie in me. I didn't get nauseous on the boat and my legs were only a little wobbly. We walked along a boardwalk for a few hundred yards before I saw a huge neon sign advertising Rouge Cochon. Finn led the way as if he were a regular. Bypassing the entrance, he walked along the side of the building to the rear where I saw what he told me were smokers. There were two of them and they were enormous.

The kitchen door swung open. "Finn!" A tiny woman with red hair and obscenely tight jeans walked right past me and pulled Finn into a hug. Right past me! It wasn't one of those 'hey friend, I haven't seen you in a long time' hugs. It was a 'hey, gorgeous man, I'm gonna rub up on ya like a cat in heat' hug. From the top of her thighs, there wasn't a part of her that wasn't touching Finn. And I was standing... Right. Friggin. There.

Finn was oblivious. Guys are idiots. I knew what she was doing. She knew what she was doing. She saw me with him, walked right past me and made her move.No, bitch, that's not the way this is going down.

I stepped into the small space she left between them, bumping Finn back a bit. "Hi! I'm Jennifer! Great to meet you. We brought you some oysters. From Finn's farm. Behind his house."Where you've never been.

She threw on a fake-ass smile, looked over my shoulder at Finn and then back to me. "Hello Jennifer. Welcome to Rouge Cochon. I'm Katie. Finn, let me get those to Steve. You want a table out here?"

Still clueless, he piped up as he handed her the bag. "That'd be great. Thanks, Katie." Finn led me over to plastic folding table with some lawn chairs. "It's the pitmaster's version of the Chef's Table. No better spot than ten feet from the smoker."

I had no idea what a Chef's Table was, so I just smiled. "Whatever's in there smells great. Can we take a look?" If heaven had an aroma, this was it. The air was redolent with wood smoke, rubbed meat and the ocean.

"Lord, no. You never touch another man's smoker without his permission and you never open it if you don't have to. It lets the heat out."

Steve, the 'pitmaster', seemed to be friends with Finn and brought us out a huge platter filled with meat and a bag with some bones for Dink. I'd never had anything like it in my life. He spent a lot of time telling me about the meat and the wood they used. Brisket, pork ribs, beef ribs, chicken, pulled pork and sausage. It was enough to feed an army. Steve seemed nice, and certainly attentive. He had his hand on my arm as he guided me over to show off the smokers.

As I sat back down I betrayed my ignorance. It was easier to wipe the juice off my chin than the smile from my face. "I thought Finn meant hamburgers and hotdogs when he said BBQ. This is sooooo much better." There was a bowl with sauce on the table that we never touched. It felt like it would be sacrilege to mess with the flavors produced by the meat, smoke and spices.

I moved from the pork, which Steve insisted was Carolina style, and its vinegar to the spicy sausage. I jumped from meat to meat like a kid at Disney, running from ride to ride. Some of this, a bit of that. Steve said his brisket was modeled after Franklin's. I had no idea who that was but smiled and nodded. It was nothing like my mother's brisket that she baked with onion soup mix. My mother. My family. I looked towards the city, where Dad would always take us at Christmas time. There were no answers waiting for my gaze.

He smiled down at me. "Well, enjoy. I'll stop back later and give you a tour of the kitchen if you'd like. We..."

Looking up at him, Finn interrupted, voice flat. "Thanks, Steve. I think we got it. Everything looks great."

We enjoyed the evening air as we talked and ate. Sitting there with him felt both right and strange. We were practically strangers, but we just fit. Everything about him moved something in me. The way he smelled, the way he walked, that lopsided grin. I'd look up to see him gazing at me and I'd have to take a deep breath to pull myself together.

"You've talked with my sister and my aunt. I'm sure they've told you something about me, but I don't know much about you."

I put my paper napkin on the table and leaned back. "Ask away."

"Ok, favorite singer?"

"Easy. Jack Bruce." I didn't see any signs of recognition. "Cream? Disraeli Gears?"

"Not familiar. I'll check him out. Favorite number."

"Eleven. Definitely Eleven."

We went on in that direction for a while. Authors, movies, books and color. The kitchen door swung open and Finn looked at me, eyes slightly narrowed and lips tight when Katie brought us out some beers. He didn't say anything, so I guess his concerns about me having alcohol were abated. No touching by the hugger, this time.

We picked at this and that as the sun slowly set. People ate outside the front of the building, seated at beautiful, gleaming chairs and tables, but our cheap table and lawn chairs that could have been bought at Sears were the best seats in the house. Cooks came out to chat with us every once in a while. Finn spoke to one of them in Spanish.

Steve eventually came back with another steaming platter. "Oysters a la Finn. Steamed in an IPA from Brooklyn Brewery, cooked with shallots, our own bacon and with a sliver of daikon on the oysters themselves. Let me know what you think." He stood there waiting for our judgment.

We dug in and Finn looked at me as my eyes grew wide. "Jennifer?"

"These are... I don't have the words. I'm gonna move in here. Can I sleep on the table and work for food?"

Steve laughed. "If this idiot ever lets you go, I'd be more than happy to cook you whatever you'd like."

Finn half smiled, half grimaced. "Thanks, Steve. Everything was great. What do I owe you?"

Steve ignored him and pulled out his wallet, still talking to me. "Here's my card. Call anytime. We always have a table or two open." Turning to Finn, "C'mon, you gotta be kidding. Thanks for the oysters. We're even." He pivoted back to me. "Jennifer, it was a pleasure. Please don't be a stranger." He checked the thermometers on the smokers and went back into the kitchen.

"What a dick." Finn seemed... angry? The butterflies in my stomach took flight. "You ready to go?"

I drank the last of the beer and put the bottle on the table. Finn grabbed his own wallet, took out a strange-looking hundred and put it under his beer bottle.

I looked at the door to the kitchen and back to Finn. "I think dinner was on the house."

"I'm not letting that asshole pay for our dinner. Let's go."

Finn was punching buttons on his phone as we walked back to his boat. He seemed disappointed as he looked up at me. "I was hoping we could catch a show at Merryton in the city, but they're closed. Wanna take the cruiser and check out the Manhattan skyline at night?"

Finn had help from a man at the dock as he untied ropes, did his sailing things and started up the boat. A few minutes later we were heading towards the most impressive sight in the world. I stared in awe as I took in the lights, the bridges and the skyscrapers. It all looked so different at night and from this side. Huge and gleaming. Not as run-down. What took more than an hour seemed to be five minutes as we moved closer and closer, eventually looking up at the Statue of Liberty.

Standing next to Finn, I pulled his arm over my shoulder as we stood there staring. I was sure he was looking for my benefit. This must have been boring for him, but I couldn't see how anyone could get used to this view. As he went aft, or forward or whatever to check some instruments I looked past the Statue. The water bottle slipped from my fingers and I fell to my knees.

The scales fell from my eyes. I was in the future. Stomach roiling, I felt like I was going to throw up again before I felt Finn's hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him as he squatted down to hold me.

"Jennifer, what's the matter?"

"Finn, where... where's the Twin Towers?

CYNTHIA

Jennifer looked tired, eyes red from crying, hair a mess. I knocked on the open door to her room, letting her know I was standing there. It was still very early. Just a skeleton crew here at this hour. Maybe I should have Pete drive us somewhere for breakfast?

"Hello, Jennifer. I thought it was time that you and I should sit down and have a chat. Do you have a few minutes?"

She wiped her nose and her hand came back smeared with blood. I had forgotten about the nose bleeds.

Looking up, a tentative smile made it to her lips. "Of course. Come in, Cynthia."

Handing her a tissue from my purse, I sat in the room's chair while she sat up in bed.

Jennifer touched the tissue to her nose, checking for more blood. "I'm sorry, they just started after I got here. I don't know why. Whenever I wake up my nose is bleeding."

Offering a small smile, I tried to be reassuring. "Well, you're in the best place for it. You've got a medical staff around you twenty-four hours a day. Dear, you've been crying."

Nodding her head softly, she sniffled. "Everything I know is gone. I don't belong here. My grandparents are dead. My parents might be dead. My brothers are old men. My friends are grandparents. All gone. And there was... every night I dream about thosethings, but I also dream about a dog. I can't get his eyes out of my head."

I could see her gripping the sheets tightly. "His tail thumped against his cage and he was whimpering when I got to him. He was so excited to see me. When, well, when that thing happened that brought me here, he was looking at me like I was supposed to protect him. I didn't, I couldn't. And, and he died. It's tearing me apart."

I couldn't help but wonder if I had the same look in my eyes when I was sitting in that bed fifty years ago. Sad, desperate and needing someone to believe her, be by her side.

I rested my hand on her arm. "Is that it? The dog? Was there anything else?"

She looked down at the floor before speaking. "I don't think you'd understand. It's just too crazy."

I smiled, fruitlessly willing her to understand how strong she truly was. "Oh, I might understand more than you think."

Taking a deep breath, she looked into my eyes, her plea to be believed resonated in her voice. "There's things, horrible, hungry things. Creatures. Old. Old and so cold. They're outside of here and they want in." She looked down again. "I know. I sound crazy, but every time I fall asleep I hear them or sense them or something. I can almost hear what they are saying, but it's not like they're talking, they sort of radiate information. It pushes out of them. I wake up almost understanding, almost. It's like a dream that you just can't remember but sits there in your subconscious. And it's always there. Always. No matter what I'm doing, somewhere in my head it's like I can hear them whispering."

She shivered and hugged herself before continuing.

"Finn helped me get some books on math. It helps. It pushes things back. I just get lost in them, hours at a time. Somehow, I know there's a key in there, if I can just figure out the right equation or the right sequence of numbers or something. Once I get that key, I'll know. I'll understand the whispers."

She started crying. "I've lost my mind. I'm... I should be here, in the clinic. Something happened, and I've lost my mind."

I moved to the bed, reached over and hugged her as she started rocking in place. "No, I don't think so. I think you're sane and you're finding your way through a maze that you should have never been forced to enter." Sometimes it was difficult to remember that she was a sheltered and privileged suburban eighteen-year-old.

We sat for a while like that. No talking, just holding her as she slowly rocked back and forth. Finally, I continued. "I had something similar happen to me when I was your age. Thankfully, I had, I don't know, an anchor. Someone that held me in place. Kept me safe and didn't let me drift away. He loved me very much and I loved him so deeply that it almost killed me when I had to leave him. When I did, everything fell apart. I spent a long time in a hospital, talking to people that helped me keep centered, not letting me... fragment. It took me two years to claw myself back to who I needed to be."

I reached out and took her hands in my own.

"Jennifer, you need to find your own anchor. Someone that can help you be steady, regardless of the currents flowing around you."

I looked around her small room, walked over to the tiny closet, pulled out some clothes and tossed them on her bed.

"C'mon. Let's get some breakfast and do some shopping. We'll get you some wading boots. And gloves! Maybe a hat. We'll make a day of it. Finn said you're going clamming tomorrow. I just know you'll love it."

JENNIFER

Finn laughed. I should have been hurt, but I had seen myself in a mirror and had laughed as well. I was wearing big rubber boots that came up to mid-thigh, rubber gloves that went up to my elbows, a large straw hat and sunglasses.

I clambered into his truck before he spoke. "Well, aren't you the professional clammer. Who got that stuff for you, Shiv or Cynthia?"

"Cynthia and you can just stick it where the sun don't shine, mister. You're just jealous cause I'm gonna catch more clams than you."

"Where do you get these phrases from? Okay, you're onto me. I'm jealous. Thanks for coming. We're going to have fun."

We were back at his house within fifteen minutes and the view of the sunrise over the water from his backyard was breathtaking. Finn explained that we were using the other boat today. Unlike his yacht-boat, I was sure this one was just called a boat. He had already loaded it up with a cooler filled with drinks and lunch. The boat seemed to be around thirty feet long and had a booth in the front. It was about twice the size as a phone booth. Behind that was a large metal table. It was all very flat.

Speaking again to Dink as if he were fluent in English, Finn told him that he had to stay home, but Siobhan would be by. We headed off and he explained some of the equipment as he steered.

"All right, this is a rake. It's going to have a pole on it as well as a towing line. We're going to dredge the rake through the sand and the basket part will hold the quahogs. We'll use the pot hauler to pull up the rake and all the clams will go on the picking tray. If they're too small, they'll have to go back. It's pretty simple. You'll catch on quick."