Chapter 28 The Different Ways We Materialize
There is nothing like being at Beavertail State Park in Jamestown when the sun is about to set. Issac helps me onto one of the big rocks, and we sit under the transitioning sky, watching waves crash below. I enjoy being silent in his company. So much has happened since yesterday, good and bad, but here, with Issac beside me and the soothing smell of salt around us, I let all of it fade to the background. He unzips his crossbody bag to collect a few pebbles, and I smile, noticing the little things he’d taken from the shop too: a business card, sampling sticks, rose petals. Afterward, he takes his coat off and spreads it over the rock, then pulls me down to lie beside him.
“I miss living here,” he says when the sky starts growing pink and purple above us.
“Do you?” I ask, “I thought you loved living in Cali.”
“I don’t think it’s possible to love anywhere as much as I love it here,” he says. “I ache for home sometimes.”
A smile tugs at my mouth, relief running through me. I turn on my side. He does the same. We’re face-to-face when I ask him to make a list of the things he misses about home.
He starts with “Beaches.” California has beautiful ones, he tells me, but there’s something comforting about being able to find water within thirty minutes of wherever we are in Rhode Island. Our food. With all the diversity and authentic flavor, the specialties like doughboys and clam cakes and even the red sauce pizza he hated as a kid. He misses the culture of Providence. The way the streets sing with something that feels particular: a mix of hip-hop and fine art and magic.
“And I miss living near you, Ni,” he says quietly. “You, randomly dragging me out here when we’re both needing to recharge by the ocean.” His words settle behind my breastbone, my own get caught in my throat. He pushes my hair from my face to see me better in the darkening daylight. “Do you miss me as much as I miss you?”
The question takes me by surprise. A small laugh escapes my lips. “Of course. Do you even have to ask that?”
He shrugs. “It doesn’t ever feel like you’re pushing for me to be home. You rarely call me. I’m usually the one looking to hear your voice.”
He smiles shyly and averts his eyes. My heart beats furiously in my chest.
Then he says, “I know it was always hard for you to open up when we were younger. You’re just built that way, like to keep feelings close to you, but since I moved, it seems like you’ve had a tougher time. You’ll text me for something and wait for me to get the time instead of calling and telling me you need me to find a private jet and get home right now.”
It hits me that while I was on the other side of the invisible string, wondering why his calls were coming less frequently, he must’ve been wondering why mine hardly came at all. The thought makes my body warm before even considering how well he knows me. In the past, I’d question why it was hard to share my feelings and thought it’s just the way I am, whether good or bad. Now I’m starting to wonder if I’ve grown quieter the same way my mom did after we lost Dad.
“I know I’m difficult to read sometimes,” I say. “But I do miss you, just as much. It’s just…you’ve always been such a free spirit. Remember when you moved in with those strangers from Craigslist when we were eighteen? I didn’t like it, but it was right for you. I never want to hold you anywhere. You’ve been flourishing now that you’re spreading your wings. And I love that for you. I never want to change you or bother you.”
“Lately, I’ve been thinking…” He releases a breath. “That maybe the urge to be a free spirit comes from my parents dying and having no control over what happened to me after I was left behind. At least, it’s a thought I’ve been exploring with my therapist.”
My heart swells at his confession. I nod, silently telling him I know.
“But, Laniah Leigh Thompson, you couldn’t bother me if you tried. Though…I hope you’ll consider trying in the future because it might be cute.”
A smile breaks across my face. “Oh yeah? That’s how you want me?”
“That’s how I want you,” he says.
So I pull his beard hair, pinch his chin, lean forward, and bite his cheek. He makes a hissing sound when I let go, alerting me to the fact that I haven’t done anything that intimate with or to him for some time. Maybe ever. Our eyes lock, mouths inches apart, his fingers tangle in my hair to keep me close. I can almost taste the spearmint on his tongue when his eyes flick to my lips. I’m not imagining it this time. He wants to kiss me. But he must see the apprehension in my eyes, the fear of what a kiss could change between us because he lets me go and shifts to look up at the sky again. I’m breathless when I turn onto my back, thinking my nerves sparked his own fears. As someone who wants a soulmate, why would he waste his time and mine? Confuse our situation, possibly strain our relationship, just for a kiss?
“Ni,” he says, and I think he’ll mention our boundaries but instead he changes the subject. “I know you don’t want to talk about what happened with Darius, but after what he did and the hotel articles about you, I’m nervous you won’t tell me that you’re stressed. What if it messes with your blood pressure?”
I’m about to tell him about my lisinopril increase to help with that, and that I’m calling Bridget’s doctor tomorrow too, but he speaks again.
“I still think we need to make sure the shop is solid—we said until the end of summer, and time is flying by, but I don’t want to hurt you, especially if we’re not…” He trails off, and I let the unspoken reason I imagine sit somewhere in my chest. Being careful enough. Is that what he wanted to say?
But would the chemistry between us really disappear just because we call it quits early?
“I’ll just go into my hermit shell,” I say. “Focus on the business, for at least a couple more weeks. You said the Darius stuff will probably die down. You don’t have to worry about me, Issac.”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding unconvinced. “Alright. And Bernie is already planning damage control with Darius. But people make shit up on the internet all the time.” Issac’s phone vibrates; he glances down at it and clicks his tongue. “Wow. Can’t say the man’s name more than once or he’ll appear like Bloody Mary. He’s probably making sure I’ll be on time for my flight back.”
My stomach sinks at the thought of Issac leaving so soon. “You could miss the flight back and stay,” I joke.
He sits up and looks down at me. “You need me here?”
“Maybe just a little. Possibly so.”
“Well.” Issac shrugs. “I’ll miss a flight when you’re sure.”
“Jerk.”
He laughs and stands, then pulls me to my feet. I pick up his jacket and dust it off. We start to climb back over the rocks, until something below catches my eye. Forty feet down, a man sits near the dark water with a lantern. I walk closer to glean what he’s doing. How did he get down there? The rock face is steep in this area.
“Ni? Be careful,” Issac says from several feet back. “You’re too close to the edge.”
I take another step, turn, and wiggle my eyebrows at him. “Am I scaring you?”
“You know you are,” he says.
“You’ll be less scared standing with me.”
“You can be wild by yourself,” he says, though he’s still watching me closely.
I stick my tongue out. I could safely take two more steps, but Issac’s parents were in an accident, so I know he’s scared of seeing his best friend this close to a cliff face. Standing right here gives me the rush I need anyway. I close my eyes and lift my arms. Let the night wind race through my hair. Issac is so quiet; I wonder if he started walking to the car. But when I turn back around, he’s still there, his white teeth flashing in the dark.
I walk over and he takes my hand.
“Hey, Ni…” One beat. Two. “You know, I could handle Darius. Push him off a cliff for the sharks to feast. Bernie will make it look like an accident.”
I laugh and let him lead me through the dark. “You are the definition of a gentle giant. You wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
“Not true,” Issac says. “For you, I’d bring down the sun.”