“How do you know when it’s a good surf beach?” she asked.
“Experience, I suppose. I don’t know. My dad was the one who taught us. We surf where he used to surf. He taught me pretty much everything I needed to know, including the best spots.”
“Ah yes, your Dad. What’s he like? Obviously a good surfer, I know that much.”
I took a sip of beer. It was still hard, talking about him in the past tense. Like any kid who loses a parent young, I had also lost my innocence. It gets stolen from you the moment you realise how fragile life is.
“He was great,” I said. “A lot of fun. A lot like Vinnie, actually. The older Vin gets, the more like Dad he is.”
Her eyes levelled on mine, and I saw within them that she knew what I was saying even if I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “How old were you?”
Far too young.
“Eleven. He died of a heart attack. It was really sudden. He wasn’t even sick, it just happened one day at work, completely out of the blue.”
There was crying, lots of crying that day, and the days that followed. I crawled under my bed and hid. I didn’t want to come out. I just wanted everyone to get out of our house. There were too many of them. Vinnie crawled under there with me and we just lay there, side by side, waiting, hiding.
“So, tell me more about yourself,” she said.
Relieved at the change of subject, I smiled at her, shrugging. “What else do you want to know? There’s not much else to tell, really.”
“Come on, I’m sure there is. So far, I know that you like to surf, your middle name is Gerald, you have a brother, you’re a landscape gardener –“
“Uh – I mow lawns, and weed gardens. That’s it. Bridget was exaggerating when she said that – she does that a lot.”
“She’s proud of you,” she smiled. “That’s really nice. You’re lucky. I like her, she’s very intuitive.”
“Intuitive. Yep, that’s pretty accurate. She’s kind of a hippy at heart.”
“Nothing wrong with that is there?”
“No, definitely not. She’s fiercely loyal, too. If you’re in trouble, you want her in your corner because she will fight for you till the bitter end. I’ve seen her do it – it’s like a scary ‘mama bear’ type of deal.”
“Were she and Emily close?”
I could see them together, the way they used to be. Having coffee, laughing, surfing. “Yeah, they were. Very close.”
“You must miss her,” she said.
It was a statement, not a question. As if she could see inside my heart and knew the truth. Yes, I miss her. I missed her. I have been missing her. I will always miss her.
I was trying to keep any mention of Em out of our conversation. It seemed like bad etiquette, and it made me uncomfortable. It felt like the right thing to do, to keep those memories at arm’s length. It was too confusing. But she had brought her up – I couldn’t ignore her questions. This ‘moving on’ thing was a bloody minefield.
“Yeah, I do,” I said.
There was no point lying about it. I had a feeling she’d see right through that.
“You can talk about her – I don’t mind,” she said gently. “Just because she’s not here doesn’t mean she ceases to exist. The way we keep our loved ones alive is through talking about them, acknowledging that they lived and that we loved them.”
I looked over at her, my throat tight and sore. She was right. She and Henry had a lot in common. But now didn’t feel like the right time to go into detail. If she knew what a mess I really was, she might not be so keen to encourage me.
“So, I believe it’s time for you to do some sharing of your own, Nancy Drew.”
“Me? What do you want to know?”
“Bridget said you’ve been travelling around the country. What’s that all about then?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what made you decide that’s what you wanted to do?”
She seemed embarrassed by the question. “I don’t know. It just kind of happened. I didn’t really plan it. I guess I’m trying to… find myself?”
I could see now why she and Bridget seemed to click. They had a lot in common, too. She looked uncomfortable with the line of questioning though, so I tried to lighten the mood.
“Why? Did you lose yourself?” I teased.
She took a hasty sip of her wine and I could tell I’d touched a raw nerve.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to put her at ease again. “Ignore me, I’m just jealous. I wish I could just up and leave like that.”
“Why can’t you?”
If only she knew. I’d wanted to, I’d planned on it – we both had, Em and I. But now it felt like a pipe dream. I couldn’t do it without her. Everything had changed. At first, I couldn’t leave. Now, I didn’t want to.
“I just can’t. I have responsibilities here. People are depending on me,” I said instead. “Hey, why don’t we play a little game?”
I leaned back, stretching my legs out in front of me, crossing my ankles.
“That sounds ominous.”
“Quid pro quo. One personal question each – short answers.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.