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because nothing so far had prepared me for this.

EIGHT
    ELLIS
     
    I gazed at the water as it rushed over my hands. I scrubbed until my skin felt raw. The soap had a lemony scent to it; it was my favorite. It reminded me of spring.
    I was so glad the winter was over. There is absolutely nothing to do in the small coastal town of Fairmont when there were no tourists. Business had gotten so slow that I had actually considered joining up with one of the fishing vessels to make some extra money. I didn’t need much; I had a small cabin near the words, just one bedroom. But it was just me. I didn’t need some big lavish house for one person. And, my dog Chester, because I didn’t really have a lot of friends. When you get out of a mental hospital, people don’t really want to get to know you. Dogs, on the other hand, don’t care about your past, just if you let them sleep in the bed with you.
    As far as most people knew, I was just the quiet line cook at the local bar. Sometimes, I tended bar as well, to make extra money. I would pick up a couple extra shifts during the busy season, and summer was quickly approaching, which meant no more vacations for me. Chester and I took a couple day trips, and went snowboarding over the winter, but it’s fucking cold in the winter, and I hated it. Once or twice, I considered moving to a place like Florida, but I think I’d miss the New England spring and fall just a little too much. Besides, this is where I had grown up. And, even though I didn’t have any family left to speak of, it still felt like home.
    My mother was killed when I was thirteen, I was moved into a foster home pretty soon after that, but then I started showing signs of what they called extreme anger. I wondered where that came from. Maybe my mom being murdered, or the fact that both my dad and her boyfriend beat me. I hadn’t really had any good role models of men in my life, not until I met Stan. He was the owner of the restaurant, the Fisherman’s Hook. When I turned eighteen, and was allowed to leave the hospital, I checked myself out, and rode the bus as far as my money would take me. I actually probably had enough to get one more ticket go all the way up to Maine, but, when I arrived in Fairmont, the people seemed friendly. A couple even directed me to a local hotel that they knew needed a new dishwasher. I had no kitchen experience except what little I had gained when I was in the institution, but they were kind to me, and finally started teaching me how to cook. Stan’s wife owned that place. And, then, when he opened up the restaurant, he offered me the job, I worked under the head chef, but I wasn’t skilled enough to make a menu. I knew how to make simple things, I was damn good at it, and quick. Which, in the tourist season, meant we made even more money, enough to beat every other restaurant in town. Stan and Mary still lived in a small Cape Cod only five minutes from my house. They even knew the owner of the place that I bought, and got me a great deal. It was mostly a shack when I bought it, but I took some time over a couple summers to build it up. I was happy to work with my hands; it made me feel like I was contributing to something. But, I didn’t have anyone else, just me, Chester, Stan, and Mary. That was what Christmas looked like. Blood doesn’t make family, people do. And four-legged furry friends, too.
    I finished scrubbing my nails once I was sure that every speck of dirt that had resided under them for the past day was long gone. Today was my day off, but Stan called me in specifically to tend bar. I wondered if he knew that I was hurting for cash. I made my way out to the front of the dining room. The big mahogany bar stretched the entire side of the restaurant, and had a fantastic view of the ocean through the glass wall that sat opposite of where I’d be standing for the next eight hours. I grabbed a cloth and wiped down the bar. There was only one patron at this time of day. A guy