She was a beautiful delight in that moment, resilient and strong. I envied her.
Max shared things he hadn’t mentioned in his emails or IMs. Soccer, a little boy named Dixon, and helping build houses for people in an HIV community near San Vicente. Guilt doubled back and crawled up my spine and into my throat. The McCalls had spent the year finding their reasons to move forward, and I’d barely found my way out of my room. Trent had been their son and brother. What was wrong with me? I had no business being this stuck.
“Where are you going next, George?” Dad asked. “Any other contracts?”
“Next one is local, a small bridge near Miramar. I scoped the area yesterday morning on my way in from Panama City. I might take one in the northeast next year after Max goes to college.”
Dad tossed his napkin on his plate. “George, I can’t believe you were back on Wednesday and didn’t tell us. Can’t believe I didn’t see one of your lights on.”
Mr. McCall wore a proud smile as he said, “I slipped in quiet as a mouse. Knew Max wanted to surprise Sadie.”
George McCall winked at his son.
Max winked back and rocked his chair sideways toward me. “It was a good surprise. Right, Sadie?”
I nodded as Sonia said, “Four on the floor.”
Max rested the chair legs on the hardwood and teased Sonia. “Mom, we aren’t little kids anymore.”
The teasing fell short when he looked at the space between us—where Trent used to sit—rather than at me, and I knew he was thinking he shouldn’t have said we. Everyone at the table knew.
And thought about Trent.
Who always rocked his chair on two legs.
Sonia rescued us, turning the conversation away from Trent to town news and old friends.
I tuned them out after that and didn’t tune back in until I heard my mother agreeing with Sonia that we—me, Max, Mom, and Sonia—would all go shopping the next day.
Not wanting to be impolite, I made direct eye contact that screamed NO at my mother and waited for her to retract the invitation. She didn’t. The Social Experiment struck again.
“Mom, I thought you said we had something else to do tomorrow.”
She knew exactly what I was driving at, and ignored me completely. “Oh, everything else can wait. You and Max both need stuff. It’ll be fun to go together.” She overemphasized the word fun, so I overemphasized my scowl.
“May I be excused, please?” I asked.
Mom and Sonia looked at each other—secret mom Morse code—but she said, “Of course.”
I told everyone good night, thanked the McCalls several times for a lovely dinner, and pushed in my chair.
“You’re leaving before pie?” Sonia asked.
“I need to go for a run.”
Max gave me the You okay? question in a blink. He hadn’t said much in the past ten minutes, and I assumed his voice needed the rest.
“See you tomorrow.” I touched his shoulder as I walked by.
When I got to the beach fifteen minutes later, Gray was there.
I smiled when I saw him, and then I stopped myself.
“I don’t have a time machine,” I whispered before I walked over to the dune.
He hugged me, quick and uncomfortable—a cordial handshake between countries at war. “Hey, I hoped you’d be out here,” he said. “I didn’t know what time you usually came so I just stayed here after work.”
He’d been there since four thirty.
“I’m never here before dark,” I said, immediately regretting that I told him. What if he made a habit of showing up like this?
“I wanted to see you,” he said. “The other night, plus the anniversary . . . it’s just, I don’t know . . . on my mind. You’re always on—” The wind grabbed the rest of his sentence.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Sure . . . I’m always okay, I guess.”
Sad eyes and still stoic. Which annoyed me. Why couldn’t he just say how he felt rather than cloaking it in some terrible bravado?
“What about you?” he asked.
I gave him honesty. “I lost okay a long time ago.”
“I didn’t help with that.”