Chapter Two: Sunnyview Suites

When Tyson woke up the darkness seemed alive. Shapes formed and dissolved in the darkness and for a moment he felt like there was someone else in the room with him. Muscles tensed and training took over. He had his comforter and sheet thrown off of his body before he realised he was only hearing the whir of the oscillating fan. His blinds knocked against the window frame. He gazed into the darkness and in the distance heard a semi’s jake brakes as it left the on ramp. He took a step and jarring pain rippled through his thigh. He clicked his lamp on and saw at some point he had opened his bedside table drawer. His Beretta sat amongst old advil bottles and an outdated Penthouse magazine. His back was slick with sweat as he tried to put together details of his nightmare in the fleeting hours of the morning. They were there, they fit solidly and smoothly showing a full picture for the briefest of moments, but as Tyson tried to focus on them they disintegrated back into his subconscious, leaving him grasping at the details until there was nothing left. Tyson shut the drawer reluctantly.  The fan continued its semi circle around the room. The bed springs creaked as he settled his bulk back onto the mattress. 

Come on Tyson, you can sleep in a warzone but your own bed gives you the creeps? He thought. He rolled his shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose. His Garmin watch registered his heartbeat at one hundred and twelve beats per minute. The room felt too small, the darkness too thick. Details of his dream reluctantly returned. He remembered water and a weight on his chest, he opened his mouth to scream and nothing had come out. The confusing thing was Tyson was a strong swimmer, he had been since he was a kid, drowning didn’t scare him, so why was he dreaming it did? He rubbed his face with both hands and huffed out a sigh. 

He pulled his cargo pants on, sliding the Beretta into the waistband just in case, and padded down the hallway to turn on the coffee maker. 

He moved to the small office, a desk and chair he’d pushed into a corner of his home gym. A cardboard ad a few errant bills tacked into it and a yellowing paper with blazing colours scrawled across it. Tyson walked gingerly as the black coffee sloshed close to the mug’s rim. His eyes fell on the yellowing child’s drawing and lingered for a moment. Two people stood under a blazing yellow sun, one was drawn in blotchy green shades and the other in dark purple that bled through the paper. The figure’s hands had dots of every other colour that came in the marker box. Beneath the figures an adult’s neat and organised handwriting contrasted the chaos of the child’s imagination where they wrote ‘picking flowers with daddy.’ Beneath that in the same purple marker she drew herself with, Helena had scrawled her name, but she forgot an e so it said Helna 4.  

Tyson placed the coffee on the hotplate next to his laptop and tapped the spacebar until the screen woke up. It bathed the room in an unearthly blue glow that almost tripped Tyson’s nightmare into focus. A memory came instead, old and yellowed like the child’s drawing. He saw glassy yellow eyes, a lab coat, and a name badge. His brows knit together and in his mind’s eye he could almost make out the name on the badge before the memory became fuzzy, receding back into the depths of his subconscious. 

He sipped slowly. The conversation had between himself and Humphry Willis replacing and further musings on what was keeping him up. He mulled over an idea for a few moments before deciding on it completely. He opened the web browser with a few clicks of the mouse and within seconds was staring at the website for Sunnyview Suites Cottage and Campground. He scrolled down the page, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth up. The place still looked the same. Same owner from what he could remember. Kurt Hadow smiled from behind a desk in a wide shot of the cottage office. Behind him a moose head and taxidermied wolf grinned from the wall. Tyson lingered on the wolf head, thinking he remembered its dull grey coat from the years spent there with his parents.

The cursor slid across the homepage to ‘take a tour’ and he flipped through the photos until he came to The Cedar Suite. The pattern of the couch sparked a distant memory, but he couldn’t be sure. He rubbed his face as he set the empty water glass down and slid the cursor to the ‘contact us’ section. When he clicked on it a chat box opened with an automated message requesting he wait 2 business days for a reply. He started typing, three simple lines of introduction and what he was looking for. To his surprise three dots popped up under his message and started rippling below his message, a notification ping indicated someone was typing. 

“Guess Kurt can’t sleep either.” Tyson muttered as he watched the dots before a reply chat came in. He began typing his response as the darkness outside his window transitioned from black to the light grey-blue of morning. Beyond the front walkway a robin started singing. 

A few hours later he stood over an open suitcase with his cell phone pressed to his ear listening to the ringing on the other end. As the phone rang his eyes wandered to Helena’s room. A pair of dirty Nikes sat discarded in the doorway from where she had kicked them off last time she was there, and a school uniform cardigan was draped across her bed from where Tyson threw it after finding it underneath the bed. The yellow bedspread beneath was folded neatly and the corners were tucked with the precision taught to Tyson in the barracks. 

The phone rang long enough for Tyson to believe that maybe he would get away with a voicemail, but on the eleventh ring Jacklyn picked up. 

“Hey Tyson.” She sighed 

“Hi Jackie. It’s Tyson.” 

“Yeah, I know.” The silence drew out long and Tyson listened to the hiss of the static. His jaw started to ache. 

“Yeah ah- look I've got something to tell you. It’s about my time with Helena coming up.” 

“You better not be trying to get out of it Tyson I swear to God. This girl is driving me up the wall lately.” Tyson closed his eyes as the ache from his jaw ran into his neck. It didn’t matter how Helena was making Jackie feel. Jackie always had something to bitch about, and lowest on the list, so far as Tyson could tell, was trying to keep up with an eighteen year old. 

“Nothing like that. I enjoy my time with Helena. Actually if she’s getting on your nerves this might be a good thing. I’ve decided to take her on a vacation with me, a couple of weeks out of your hair. I just wanted to let you know.” 

Tyson listened to the hiss of silence again, fighting the urge to ask if Jackie was still there. He knew she was playing up the drama, getting a head of steam ready to give him a blast of shit even though this was exactly what she wanted. 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now with this? You know your daughter just got suspended from school? She was damn near charged Tyson, and what? Now you want to reward that behaviour with sun and fun for a couple of weeks?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying Jackie.” Tyson shut his eyes and leaned against the door frame cradling his elbow in his opposite hand. 

“So what? I get to be the bad guy who holds her accountable? Is that it?” 

 “I will speak to her about her behaviour Jackie. Don’t act shocked that she didn’t want to follow rules, what did she do?” 

“Why don’t you ask her on your little trip?” 

“So you’re fine with her going?” 

“What does it matter, Tyson? You’re going to do what you want anyway. Just like always” 

Tyson squeezed his eyes shut and tried counting to five. “Look, this is mainly a courtesy call, because you’re right, Jacklyn, I am going to do what I want anyway because I have the choice to do so. I’m just making sure that when I take my daughter on her court appointed custody, that there isn’t going to be an amber alert twenty four hours later.” 

“Must be nice, having a vacation funded by the federal government.” Her words were ice water in his ear, Tyson had already been on the call longer than he wanted. He glanced at the phone and watched the seconds roll past the six minute mark. 

Tyson spoke through clenched teeth. His ex-wife’s obsession to control everything would take years off her life if she let it. “She can either come with me or she can stay with you and continue being an absolute pain in your ass, don’t pretend she’s anything but.” Tyson listened to the silence on the other line hiss and in spite of himself barked “hello?” into the smartphone. He heard the smack of Jackie's flip flops as she moved through the house she and Helena shared. Tyson suddenly heard music blaring through the phone and knew from experience Jackie was outside of Helena’s room. He listened to a yelled exchange for Helena to open the door before the music got louder and he heard his daughter scream ‘WHAT?’. 

“Your father is taking you on a vacation sweetie.” Jackie’s voice dripped with sarcasm and Tyson knew she was intentionally talking loud enough for him to hear on the other end of the phone. 

“What? For how long? I don’t want to go anywhere. Sasha and I have plans later.” Tyson felt his stomach shift at his daughter’s rebuke. They hadn’t seen much of each other over the last four years but what time they did get was slowly being swallowed up by Helena skipping out to party with her friends or just ditch Tyson completely, showing up the next morning broke and hungover. He sighed and checked the display of his phone. Eight minutes and counting. He listened to Jackie argue back and forth with their daughter, both of them rising to a shrill crescendo before Tyson got impatient and demanded Jackie just put Helena on. She snapped at her daughter instead. 

“I don’t give a shit what you think you are doing Lena, Sasha be damned. You know what? This will be good for you, stuck in the middle of butt frig nowhere with Tyson Coté. Maybe you can come back from wherever the hell he’s taking you with half a brain and a hell of a lot better attitude.” 

“Where are we even going?” Helena asked, her voice sullen and dull. 

“She wants to know where you are going.” Jackie asked, her voice so loud Tyson recoiled for the phone. “Just tell her to bring sunscreen and bug spray, and tell her she has sneakers here. I’ll pick her up the day after tomorrow.” Tyson tapped his thumb against the red phone icon and pitched the cell into his suitcase with a sigh. 

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered as he opened the closet and continued packing. 

***

They had been driving in silence for hours. Any attempt Tyson had at spurring conversation was met with one word answers or no answer at all. It was a pattern he tried to get used to, even one he tried to adopt in an attempt to draw his daughter out. But Helena had his stubborn streak, and she used it expertly to wait out his eventual return to open ended questions. She sat in the passenger seat with her legs crossed and her body tilted away from him. Her cell phone hadn’t left her hands except for when they passed through a dead zone. Even then she’d placed it in the cup holder and watched it intently for any signs of the bars to come back. Tyson had long ago abandoned the argument that she was dependent on the device. He simply tried to ignore it as best as he could and focus on the road. Outside the windshield the forest they drove through had lapsed into great limestone cliffs. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes itched. As they passed by the graffiti strewn cliffs a thought occurred to Tyson 

“I worked a job around here, you know? A few years ago.” 

Nothing. 

“These rocks, the cliffs, they just remind me of that place. It was an island too.” His voice was light as he tried to conjure the memory. He thought of The Vanguard, of Galagher the night they met. It still didn’t make sense. Suicide. Maybe Tess and Dexter, maybe. But all of them? No chance. 

Tyson cast a glance from the road to his daughter. She didn’t look up at him. She sat stock still, flicking her index finger across her phone screen, the device emitting bars of music and various snatches of dialogue. Tyson always saw it as the new generation’s version of channel surfing. He watched the blue light dance across Helens dark pupils and waited for some form of recognition. When he didn’t see one he tapped the brake hard enough to send her sprawling into the cavity of the passenger seat. Her phone clattering against the rubber floor mat. 

“Jesus Christ Tyson what the fuck!” 

“Sit properly then!” Tyson said, using a tone he reserved for insolent recruits who didn’t want to complete basic training. “And acknowledge me when I speak to you, you’re not a mute.” 

“Ok! cool! you worked around here, wow!” Helena said in an exact copy of Jackie's sarcasm. She unwound herself from the twisted seatbelt and flattened her absurd looking red crocs on the rubber mat. “You’re buying me a new phone if you broke it.” she muttered as she collected the Samsung from the floor.

“You should be so lucky.” Tyson replied. 

The limestone gradually changed back to fur trees and with them the atmosphere in the car changed to tense silence. The silence was shattered by the automated voice telling Tyson in 3 kilometres he was to keep left. He saw Helena flinch away from the GPS voice and shook his head. The kid was too skittish, how she got suspended he had no idea. He’d tried to bridge the subject a few times but she iced him out, for Tyson it was easier to keep quiet. 

She used to be an open book. I couldn’t get five minutes to myself. Now- He glanced once more at her engrossed in the small device that went everywhere with her. She flicked her index finger against the screen and after a few moments exhaled a sharp snort of laughter. Tyson rubbed his eyes and turned his attention back to the road. 

As he came to the bridge his stomach clenched and he stopped himself from doubling over the wheel. Tyson cursed himself for stopping for a burger and hoped his guts would settle long enough for them to get to the Suites. It was years since he thought of the cottage and he forgot about the old swing bridge that marked the entrance to Anchor Island. The cabin of his truck was filled with a droning hum as they drove over the ancient looking iron. The sound  always reminded Tyson of a train moving down the track. He was amazed at what came back to him after all these years. Luckily as his wheels hit pavement once more his stomach settled. Beside him Helena looked out the window like she was a prisoner being transported to a new cell. 

The sign for Sunnyview Suites was a faded and chipped collection of two-by-fours nailed to a frame and painted by a hand Tyson suspected long dead. The faded blue had once been a lake with a brown swatch of dock and an orange ball signifying the sun radiating from the end of it. The cheery sign was contrasted by the sombre clouds which had rolled in as they drove. Beyond the sign he caught glimpses of the water slapping against the shore in great rolling waves. 

Landmarks started to come back to him as they drove. A winding road punctuated by slatboard cabins all named after trees. He passed the office attached to the Robin’s Nest Restaurant and made a note to head over there once he and Helena were settled. An elderly couple walking hand in hand waved and Tyson nodded in response, his eyes searching the names of the cabins even as, in the back of his mind, he knew exactly where to go. The path wound further down and he passed the Birch and Maple Suites (the maple a hulking five bedroom behemoth perched on top of a hill.) There was a park area with a few slack shouldered parents watching over kids playing on the outdated playground. Beyond that were horseshoe pits, the sand hard and cracked with dandelions poking bobbing yellow heads through. To the right of them a tether ball swung lazily against its fraying cord. 

The path wound further down and at once Helena was rigid in the seat next to him. “Tell me there’s reception at this place.” 

“I don’t know if there is or not. You might have to read a book.” Tyson replied absently

“I didn’t bring a book, what is this?” 

“This,” Tyson grinned as he navigated the gravel path, “is punishment for being suspended.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Helena just about screamed. 

  “You watch your tone with me. You aren’t too old I won’t wash your mouth with soap.” 

“Yeah try it and see how far you get. I may not be able to call anyone but I can still scream bloody murder.” She was breathing hard as she spoke, eyeing Tyson with a fury that was foreign to him. He searched her eyes and watched as she dead eyed him right back, her jaw clenched. Tyson sighed. “You need to learn who’s on your side and who isn’t Helena. You waste a lot of energy fighting people who aren’t your enemy.” 

“Just leave me alone.” Helena muttered sinking lower in her seat, her feet once more tucked beneath her. “You have no idea what you are talking about, and I’m tired of hearing your stupid stories.” In his hands the wheel of the pickup flexed, the leather groaning. Tyson squeezed his eyes shut and bit back what he wanted to say, which wouldn’t have gotten him anywhere unless he wanted to practise what he preached and wash his own mouth with soap. 

The trees opened and the roadway wound to a halt in front of a small white cabin with green trim around the windows and door frame. A cross section of a tree stump was nailed beside the doorway and a wood burned tree stood above the words Cedar Suite. 

“This is it.” Tyson said, his words punctuated by the triumphant tone from the GPS and the voice announcing they had arrived at their destination. Tyson slid the gear selector into park and was out of the cab before Helena could get her seatbelt off. He took a few strides away from the truck as if trying to rid himself of the awkward stale air that clung to the cab. He inhaled and smelled rain. He took a quick stroll around the perimeter of the cabin, his boots sending hollow thuds as he walked the wrap around porch that ran the length of the cabin. In front of cabin the lake opened up and he stood taking in the view. A small rocky island was set near the middle of the lake. Across the water Tyson could barely make out an old fishing cottage and dock. To his left the lake curved and he could just make out the Robin’s Nest and the Maple Suite nestled on the high ground. Tyson placed his hands on the aged timber of the railing and tried to remember something, anything from his childhood here, but strangely enough as he left the swing bridge his memories seemed to dry up. He stared at the small sandy beach beyond the porch and tried to imagine his folks watching him play, building sand castles and assaulting them with his G.I Joes, but nothing fit. His memories felt forced and like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting rather than something that actually happened to him. His lips pulled into a scowl and he felt a headache start behind his eyes. He shut them again and massaged his right eye with the palm of his hand. He hoped the cool night air would help him catch up on sleep. He heard his daughter from the blackness behind his eyes. 

“Ew, oh my god, what are those?” she shrieked. Tyson snapped his attention to where Helena was and watched her bolt back toward the truck, losing a croc as she went. He watched as she regarded the errant footwear, her eyes darting back toward his left where she had initially seen whatever the hell had worked her up. Tyson saw the absolute breakdown she was having as she contemplated running further from the threat, or going back for her shoe. She skulked back onto the deck and snatched her shoe, her eyes never leaving the wall of the cottage. Tyson followed her gaze,  trying to understand how his once resilient and confident daughter could be the vapid and clueless teenager that stood in front of him juggling a shoe and her cell phone. 

The wall of the cottage held dozens of motionless flyers with long bodies and greasy looking transparent wings. Tyson recognized them instantly and was a little relieved to see something here that triggered a childhood memory. 

“Those are Shad flies buddy. They can’t hurt you.” 

“They look gross.” Helena turned away from the wall. “Why do they reek?” 

“They can’t hurt you.” Tyson repeated 

“Well what do they do?” 

“Honestly, not much of anything, as harmless as you can get I’d say. Definitely not something to scream bloody murder over.” With the threat level established, her  attitude came back in full force. 

“I wasn’t ‘screaming bloody murder’” she said, her voice deepening into a mocking imitation of her father. Tyson stood a moment longer contemplating correcting the behaviour. He winced. The pain behind his eyes intensified as the sun drew out from behind a cloud and the heat cascaded onto the shoulders of his black T-shirt like a weight. Tyson pushed himself off from the railing. “I’m going to settle up at the office. Unpack the truck.” Tyson said as he started walking up the hill. 

“I need to find a signal.” Helena countered. 

“Unpack the truck Helena.” Tyson repeated, but when he looked over his shoulder she was gone, moving through the cottage with her phone extended and her neck craned to the sky.

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