Harbour Lights

Stepping out of Evie's house was a mistake. As soon as she was outside, she was stranded and had to face the rest of the world alone. And by 'the rest of the world', she meant Ogunquit.

It was a Saturday, so most people were shopping in the center of town. As she walked on the sidewalk, heading back towards her house, she could feel the stares burning her down. The wind carried the whispers to her ears:

"I just saw her come out of Evie Hatcher's house. I bet she's trying to break her and Will up."

"That girl's a home wrecker, she is."

"What a slut."

What stung the most was that Marilyn had no way of sticking up for herself. What could she do? Scream out to the entire town and tell them to shut the fuck up? She would only dig herself into a deeper shit hole. It was best to keep her mouth shut, as much as that angered her.

When she got home, all she wanted to do was run into her room and slam the door. But her mother had stopped her, embracing her in a hug. Marilyn wondered why her mom was acting so joyous, but then she remembered that the last time her mom saw her she thought her daughter was going back to Europe. So her mom was just happy that she actually came home.

Marilyn endured her mother's loving words for only a few minutes; it quickly grew to be too much. She tried to leave but, once again, she was stopped as Chante entered the room. She had a devious grin on her face. "Ma chérie," she crooned, "it's good to see you're home."

If Chante thought that her and Adam's little plan had made everything better, she was wrong. Now everything was even more complicated than it was before. Marilyn just glared at Chante, and the smile disappeared from the French girl's face. She didn't stop Marilyn as she pushed by her to go to her room.

She slammed her door with unnecessary force and then collapsed onto her bed. What had she done? She had…she had kissed Will. She had gone and messed everything up again. Now the entire town was going to be talking about her. She couldn't pretend that she didn't care about what people said about her – because truth be told, everyone cares about things like that. Even the most indifferent people worry at least a little bit about what is said about them. And the fact that everyone was now on her case made everything much more stressful; their words were eventually going to wear her down, the same way a river erodes a rock. Soon, she wouldn't be able to handle it anymore.

What could she do about this stress? A few days ago, her solution would have been simple: escape. Go back to Europe and forget everything here. But now she was too caught up in this entire mess. There was no way that she could get up and leave and hope it was a clean cut.

It had been so much easier the first time.

◊ ◊ ◊

Marilyn took a deep breath, held it, and let it out in a huff. The air tasted different, fresher – it was London air.

She didn't have too many bags; she hadn't packed much, since she was planning on buying an entire new wardrobe here. She wanted new clothes, new makeup, new everything. She wanted a new life. Out here, she knew no one and no one knew her. There was no one to watch her every move, no one to gossip about her behind her back. She was a nobody, and she loved it.

Days turned into weeks, weeks to months. She was currently living in a somewhat nice apartment complex now, and her life was simple and splendid. All she had to worry about was school and money – there were no stupid high school parties, no backstabbing friends.

The only struggle she did have, though, was coping with her memories.

She had tried to suppress them as much as possible. She wanted Ogunquit – and everyone in it – to be a like a long lost dream, something she could forget easily. But there was one person that would stubbornly flash in her mind again and again.

It always happened when she was least expecting it. She could be doing laundry and all of the sudden a flashback would race through her mind, reminding her of her first kiss or her favorite car ride or something else like that. And then she would have to stop what she was doing, take a deep breath, and pretend that it never happened. She would remind herself that he was a million miles away now and what mattered was the here and now; old romances were not worth her time anymore.

It was torture lying to herself like that. But running away was the only thing she knew how to do; it was the only thing she was good at. She felt as though it had been her only option. And so she endured, not once looking back. Returning to Ogunquit would never – could never – be an option.

But god, if only she knew how wrong she was.

◊ ◊ ◊

Darkness fell, and neither Chante nor Marilyn's mother dared to bother her. They both knew that she was upset about something, and although they didn’t know what exactly, they were aware that all she wanted was to be alone right now.

They were wrong.

Marilyn was tired of sulking in solitude. She was sick of listening to her jumbled thoughts and mixed emotions. She needed someone to be with her – she needed him to be with her.

And apparently, he needed her, too. Her heart just about stopped beating when her cell phone rang and the caller ID read Will Banfield. "Hello?"

"Come outside," he said shortly. She felt comforted hearing his voice, though she was a little confused.

"Why? Where are you?"

"I'm sitting on the roof of your car," he replied. "Now, are you going to come out or are you going to let me freeze?"

She walked over to her window and, sure enough, there he was. He saw her staring and he grinned, mouthing 'Come on' as he hung up the phone. Remembering her sneaking-out skills from her teenage years, she quietly opened the window and stealthily climbed out the window – thank god her house was only one story high.

"I'll drive," was all he said as he climbed into the car.

"Where are we going?" she asked, but he avoided her question as he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. The drive wasn't long, but it was long enough for Marilyn to ask the question that had been bothering her all day: "What happened with Evie?"

His smile was grim. "We had a huge fight. I broke it off with her."

"Oh…" She didn't know what to say. I'm sorry? That would be a lie. On the inside, she was leaping with joy that they had finally ended their relationship. She didn't even feel guilty about it, because she could clearly see how wrong Evie was for Will. But she couldn't say that to him.

"She just wasn't right for me, it's as simple as that," Will went on. "And it took her stupid lie today to finally make me realize that."

"Why did you get together with her in the first place?" she couldn't help but ask. It probably sounded rude, but she just had to know. Evie was annoying and fake; what had Will seen in her that was alluring? Sure, she was as pretty as a doll, even Marilyn had to admit to that one. But the old Will cared about more things than just looks. The old Will cared about everything.

Oh, how things can change.

"Well, as shallow as she was," he finally replied, biting his lip as he searched for the right words, "I was pretty shallow, too. I saw her at a party and thought she was hot. Before that night, I had always believed that the only person I could consider attractive was someone that looked exactly like you – but she looked nothing like you. And maybe that's why I started liking her. I ended up asking her out because the idea of a girlfriend didn't sound so bad…and I just didn’t want to be alone anymore."

Marilyn let out the breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. It was partially her fault Will had asked her out to begin with. He had needed a crutch, something to support him as he mended his wounds – and Evie fit that job description perfectly. He knew she wouldn't leave him like Marilyn did.

"But it's over now," Will said, breaking the awkward silence. "It's a thing of the past."

"The past is a lot more difficult to forget than you think," Marilyn said, recalling her own struggles of forgetting him when she first arrived at Oxford.

"I had to do it once for you, Mare," he replied, "and she means nothing compared to what you meant to me. I'll be able to forget her. Don't worry." He said the last part as if he was comforting her, as if she was afraid that he would be stuck on Evie. And she was afraid of that. She had been worried that he wouldn't get over her.

But he would, and he definitely could. She could see that now. He was here now, and he was doing this for her – it was clear that if there was a single girl that Will would never be able to get over, it was Marilyn Day.

"We're here," he suddenly announced. She looked up and smiled when she saw where they were. The lighthouse.

"I have a surprise for you," he said eagerly as he walked over to her side of the car and pulled her out of her seat. She bombarded him with questions, but he ignored all of them. He just grinned, which made her glare at him furiously; she hated it when he kept her in the dark like this. He laughed at her angry expression and said, "Just watch."

He ran inside the lighthouse, leaving the door open behind him. She watched as he went to the power box and flicked on a switch.

And then, suddenly, the night sky was bathed in a blazing light. The lighthouse had come back to life, and now the shining beam of light twirled round and round above her. She stared at it in awe as a wide grin adorned her face. "Will!" she gasped as he returned to her side. "It's – it's beautiful. I missed this so much. How did you get it to work?"

He laughed and shrugged humbly, "Mechanics class in high school turned out to come in handy."

"You managed to actually fix the lighthouse?"

"Well, uh," he said and ran a hand through his messy hair, "actually, I sort of just turned on the power button." The simplicity of his actions did nothing to make her smile falter. "You like it?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes," she sighed.

"I knew you would," he smiled as he draped an arm around her shoulder. "I remember you used to tell me how you played here all the time when you were little."

She blushed. "You remember those stories?" she asked in a small voice.

"Are you kidding?" he chuckled. "You went on and on about how you wished you could be in charge of the lighthouse. You wanted to be a princess, too, apparently."

She laughed awkwardly. "Um, yeah, I did," she said sheepishly. "I pretended that my prince charming was out at sea, and I was waiting for him to come back. I wanted to work the lighthouse because then I could actually be the beacon of light that guided him home."

If only Marilyn could realize that she had her roles mixed up. She had been the one to leave home. And he was her harbour light.