Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
HEATH
“I’ve never understood why you and your dad like that stinky cheese so much.” Mom scrunched her nose as the wind whipped her gray curls around her face. Mist from the crashing ocean waves kept the cool air damp.
Mom pointedly ignored the blue cheese on the to-go cheeseboard I’d ordered for our day trip and selected a slice of mild cheddar and a cracker.
“Blue cheese is the best. You don’t know what you’re missing.” I cut a corner off the hunk of blue and spread it on a graham cracker like Dad used to do. That combination would always please my tastebuds like a warm hug.
We fell quiet as we stared at the expansive Pacific Ocean as waves crashed against the rocks below our perch on the short wall separating Highway 99 and downtown Depoe Bay.
Depoe Bay was Dad’s favorite spot on the Oregon Coast and where we’d celebrated his birthday since I was a kid. Dad loved whales, and there was no better spot to try and catch a glimpse. Some years, we got lucky. Others, we didn’t. But we always ended the day with clam chowder and fudge for dessert. Mom and I hadn’t seen any whales since he’d passed.
“Still nothing?”
I shook my head. “The binoculars are in your bag. Maybe you’ll see a spout.”
Mom rifled through her backpack and then put them against her eyes after finding them. “I think they’re broken.”
Shaking my head, I flipped them over in her hand. It happened every year.
“Shut it,” she said as she adjusted the dial.
I mimed zipping my mouth closed, then smiled.
It was hard to believe it had been over two years since Dad had died. I still missed him terribly, but the pain wasn’t as sharp today compared to last year’s birthday. I hoped that meant as time passed, the happy memories would be easier to reach for.
“I can’t believe it’s been two birthdays.”
It was comforting to know our thoughts went to the same place. “In some ways, it feels like months, but in others, it’s hit me like a decade of wear and tear.”
“I sure feel a decade older,” Mom said disdainfully.
I reached over and rubbed her back. “You don’t look it.”
Mom smiled wryly. “I raised you well.”
Neither of us mentioned the new wrinkles and gray hairs we both now sported.
“Do you remember when we got him the whale-watching boat tour for his birthday?” I’d been in elementary school.
Mom groaned. “You mean the time we learned firsthand that your dad gets terribly seasick? The poor man wouldn’t have seen a whale unless it swam right under the boat since he spent the entire time with his face hanging over the edge.”
I laughed and startled a seagull who’d been inching toward our picnic. It made a low piercing caw before flying into the overcast sky. The clouds threatened an afternoon drizzle.
“Dad was so bummed he missed all the sightings.”
We swapped memories of our times on the coast and finished off the cheeseboard as the sun moved out from behind a bank of clouds. I pretended not to see Mom sneak a piece of the blue cheese before smiling at the sky and then wrinkling her nose as she chewed.
“I regret not doing something to thank the oncology office,” she said after several minutes of comfortable silence.
I turned toward Mom in surprise as I tried to follow her line of thinking. Tracking thoughts spurred by grief was like trying to predict a pinball’s movements. “Where Dad got treatments?”
“Yes. Those nurses were amazing. I feel terrible I didn’t think to do something for them at the time.”
“You were buried under a mountain of grief. We both were. They don’t expect anything from us.”
“I know, but I want to do something. Do you think it’s too late?” The sadness in her eyes triggered a lump in my throat.
“Not at all. I’m sure they’d love anything you decided to do. Are you thinking flowers?”
She angled her head and stared at the sea. “Maybe a catered lunch?”
“Who doesn’t like food?” I squeezed her hand, then let go.
“I wonder if our favorite nurse still works there.”
“They might.” I had no idea what kind of turnover oncology offices had.
It made me think about Ben, and how much he clearly cared about his patients. Nurses were special people. My thoughts danced to Ben in his scrubs. Not the time or place .
“That’s a smile I haven’t seen in a long time. Who’s causing it?” Mom gave me the same eager grin she had in high school when I’d asked to borrow the car to take my date to the prom.
Instead of admitting to my mom that I—a grown-ass man—had a crush on someone, I told her about Uncle Rick’s blanket. I’d been meaning to anyway.
“You know that blanket project I kept of Uncle Rick’s?”
Mom fished around the remnants of our cheese board, dragged a piece of salami through quince paste, and dropped it on a cracker. “Yeah?”
I explained the Patchwork Projects organization.
Tears welled in Mom’s eyes. “Did they pair you with someone?”
I nodded. “They did. A guy who lives in Dahlia Springs.”
She shot me a calculating grin. “How old is this guy? Is he single? Is he queer?”
“Cool it with the twenty questions. He’s generously donating his time to finish the blanket. That’s it.” She didn’t need to know that what it was and what I wanted were two different things. It was hard not to talk to her about it because she’d love Ben’s profession and adore him too—from what I knew of him, who wouldn’t?—but I knew better than to hint at my feelings because she’d go all in. I didn’t want to deal with her disappointment on top of mine if it didn’t go anywhere.
Mom’s smile softened. “I’d love to meet him and thank him. It’s a generous way to spend one’s free time.”
“We’ll see. I don’t want to put too much pressure on the guy.”
She winked at me. Clearly not buying any of my bullshit.
“Your dad would love that too.”
As we lapsed into silence, a stream of water shot up from the ocean only a few hundred feet from us. Mom grabbed my hand and nearly knocked the cheeseboard over.
“Did you see it? There’s a whale!”
The spout rose again before a fin breached the ocean’s surface. My throat burned. Miss you too, Dad.