The Uneventful Life of Harvey Mackler

c h a p t e r | t w e n t y - s e v e n

"Harvey..." Hayden rises to his feet; he takes off his glasses, dragging a hand down his weary face. "We wanted to tell you before. But you were so upset yesterday — and you didn't come home till late, and... we didn't want to make it worse."

"Make what worse? Tell me what?"

"It's about the Hole. It got damaged in the storm. And—"

"No." I take a step back, shaking my head. "Stop right there. Please tell me this is a joke."

"Harvey—"

This time, Hayden is interrupted by Hunter entering the kitchen.

"Gooood morni..." he begins to greet in a singsong voice until he notices the heavy atmosphere in the room, faltering.

"Hunter," I throw him a desperate look, "he's joking, right? Please tell me it's not true. The Hole isn't..."

Hunter's face falls. "I'm sorry, Harvey."

A lump forms in my throat. "No," I choke out. "It—it can't be that bad, can it?"

"It's pretty bad," Hayden confesses. "The storm hit here late night on Thursday. With everything else going on we didn't think to fortify the seal at the entrance. It broke down and the whole place got flooded up. I'm sorry, Harvey."

I shake my head in refusal, staggering backwards and scrambling for the door.

"Harvey—" Hunter extends a hand to reach out to me.

"I won't believe it until I see it for myself."

Without another word, I bolt out the backdoor and race down the beach to find my rocky hideout. My heart is roaring, pounding in my chest, and my ears are clogged with the sound of blood rushing. I'm terrified to think about the state of the Hole when I arrive.

But reality can be so much worse than the imagination.

My heart plummets as I skate round to the entrance of the Hole.

Though the heat from the sun has managed to dry up most of the sand on the lower beach, the ground around the Hole remains marshy; a mud-like consistency that forces me to stop a few feet before the actual entryway.

Flooded.

The caved interior is completely submerged in water. Walls of wooden shelves have been ripped from their mounts, shards of shattered glassware and ceramics that had once formed part of the random paraphernalia decorating my shelves find new homes at the bottom of the murky water. My books lay in tatters, torn pages floating on the surface of the water, tangled with strings of dark green seaweed and draped limply over stray driftwood.

I've had the Hole for years and the previous times it has flooded, it has never gotten as bad as this.

How did this happen?

Why did this have to happen at all?

Why is it that every time I get close to being happy again, something a hundred times worse happens again?

Everything that made the Hole my haven, my place of sanctuary has been destroyed. 

A sharp pain shoots through my head. I squeeze my eyes shut, exhaling a shaky breath. Except it quickly turns to a sob. My chest gives out and more sobs come out though I try to hold them back. What's the point in crying? It's not going to solve anything. But my body won't listen to reason. My knees buckle and I collapse on the sand with wet cheeks and tears streaming from my eyes.