The Invisible Husband of Frick Island by Colleen Oakley (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📗

the venom. But there was no escaping it. “Please leave,” she said, and if he thought he heard her voice waver a bit, she corrected that notion when she said, steady as an arrow directed at his heart: “And don’t come back.” Piper turned on her heel and left Anders standing there, feeling exactly like one of those crabs after a picker was done with it—as if everything that was good inside him had been turned out and there was nothing left but a worthless cracked shell.

—

The docks were desolate, as empty as Anders felt, and he sat hangdog on a bench waiting for BobDan to finish whatever he was doing in his office, so he could leave the island. For good, this time.

“Women, huh?”

Anders looked up, squinting against the sun’s bright rays—which did nothing to warm the chilly late-fall air—and right into Jeffrey’s mocking face.

“Told you to steer clear of her.”

Anders dropped his head, not in the mood to speak with anyone, least of all Jeffrey. Maybe if he ignored him, he’d leave. But then he considered Jeffrey’s words, and a rage that had been brewing in his gut boiled over.

“You know what? You didn’t tell me to steer clear of her, actually. You told me I should seek her out—that she’d be the perfect person to help me with my podcast, if I recall. It’s almost as if you take some sick pleasure in orchestrating people’s embarrassment. Or pain. Is that it?” He paused, his jaw twitching. “All the while, you’re madly in love with her. That’s pretty sick, if you ask me.”

Jeffrey scoffed, his blazing eyes matching Anders’s. “For an observant guy, you really do miss everything, don’t you?”

Anders stared at him, wondering what he had missed, and then something clicked in his mind. He’d heard that phrase before. Or seen it, anyway.

“You’re the emailer. NoManIsAnIsland.”

Jeffrey narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Anders mirrored Jeffrey’s expression. “You didn’t send me an email? A few months ago?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Anders said. He’d been so sure for a split second. “So wait—what are you talking about? What have I missed? You’re saying you’re not in love with Piper?”

“No,” he said, with a sad chuckle. “I’m not in love with Piper.”

“But I overheard you, at Piper’s. You were so upset and she said . . .” What had she said? It was never meant to be. But then he remembered Mrs. Olecki’s reaction as well, when he had asked if Jeffrey was in love with Piper, and he wondered what he was missing. As he searched the corners of his brain, Anders stared at Jeffrey and really looked at him. And it was then that he saw the raw pain in his eyes, the same pain he’d seen mere moments ago . . . in Piper’s. And that was when it hit him.

“Oh my god. You’re in love with Tom.”

Jeffrey didn’t respond. He just chewed his lip and studied the toe of his boot, as he dug it into the wooden plank he was standing on.

“Did Tom know?”

Jeffrey tilted his head to the sky as if the answer were somewhere floating in the clouds, and then, exhaling slowly, sat at the opposite end of the bench. “I never came out and told him, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not a glutton for punishment.”

Anders leaned back, absorbing this new information. He could feel the change in Jeffrey’s demeanor, the fight having left him, the relief at his admission. Jeffrey took his silence as an invitation to keep talking. “We were best friends, me and Tom. Since we were no bigger than ankle biters. Growing up, I was different than the other kids on the island—there were more of us back then—I just didn’t know how. But the other kids, they saw it and poked fun at me. The red hair didn’t help.” He grinned wryly and pointed at his scalp. “Tom always stood up for me, told me it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. We ran all over this island like we owned it, dreaming up big plans for the future. Stuff like he was gonna write for National Geographic and I was gonna take the pictures. Never mind I didn’t even own a camera.” He half chuckled and then stared off, like he was lost in the memory for a minute. “We were like those double Popsicles—you ever eat those as a kid? Always stuck together.”

Anders realized where this was going. “And then Piper moved here.”

“And then Piper moved here,” he repeated. “It was fine at first. I knew Tom had it bad for her, but I didn’t mind. Was even happy for him when they started going together. But then Tom’s dad died—and it rocked him. It would rock anybody, but Tom, I think he got one of those predispositions or whatever you call it for sadness. It was deep. And dark. Even a blind man could see he needed help, but he wouldn’t listen to me. I tried to talk to Piper, but she’d just brush it off. It’ll pass, it’ll pass, she’d say. It did, of course, but then it’d sneak up on him again. It never left him alone for good. Or for long.”

Anders crinkled his brow. “That doesn’t sound like Piper,” he said, repeating a phrase he’d heard Pearl say once: “She’d help a crab cross the street if she came up on one.”

“Yeah.” Jeffrey nodded. “She might do that. But she also bleeds sunshine and rainbows—and when something’s ugly, she’d rather pretend it wasn’t.” He raised his eyebrows at Anders. “She’s the Great Pretender, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Anders’s jaw went slack. “Wait. You knew?”

“That she’s faking it? ’Course.”

His eyes grew bigger. “Did everyone?”

“No, I don’t think so. I begged her to make it stop. I couldn’t stand hearing his name a thousand times a day. Seeing his mangled boat up on those planks.”

“So why didn’t you just tell?”

Jeffrey hesitated. Chewed his lip some more. “I do care about her, despite how it sounds. I knew she was