Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Miles
The Kennebec River
The river was in charge. Bubbles shot up Miles’s nose and whooshed past his ears.
Once he surfaced, Miles lay flat, pointed his feet downstream, and protected his head as he coursed through the rapid.
He hadn’t seen whether Paulson had also fallen out of the canoe, but he hoped not.
Given that they were in the last boat, the other boats could be far downstream and might not have seen him go in.
Thankfully, Miles had insisted everyone wear flotation vests and helmets.
Body-surfing a rapid was wildly invigorating and frightening at the same time, but he wasn’t having what his therapist had diagnosed as a panic attack. He only seemed to get those when he considered a future filled with love.
It made no sense that loving Avery, who understood him in ways no one else ever had, could elicit more fear than he felt right now.
The only difference he could come up with between facing his feelings for her and being carried by a raging rapid was preparation.
He’d had little training in the ways of love, but he’d studied and rehearsed water safety.
As a child, he and his father practiced falling out of a canoe hundreds of times.
When the moment came, Miles knew how to stay present and remain calm.
You couldn’t prepare for an out of the blue I love you.
If anything, he’d conditioned himself to avoid love and flee from commitment.
But choosing to be alone wasn’t fulfilling anymore.
Avery made him want to be a better man, one who could figure out how to love and support her.
Getting to the best version of himself required going through rough waters.
“Rope!” a voice yelled.
A thick rope landed with a thud on Miles’s chest. He grabbed onto a knotted end, lifted his hand, and gave a thumbs-up.
“Got it!” he yelled.
A few seconds later, Nate pulled him to shore at the bottom of the rapids. Miles waded out of the water and sat on a big rock, his breath ragged. A dry Paulson handed him a towel and patted him hard twice on the shoulder.
“Dude, you good?” Nate removed Miles’s helmet and held his cheeks as he examined Miles’s face.
Miles nodded between breaths.
“What day is it?” Nate studied the spot Miles felt throbbing on his cheek.
“July twenty-seventh,” Miles said.
“Where are you?”
“The Kennebec River, below Katahdin.”
“What’s the state bird of Maine?”
“The black-capped chickadee.”
“Who is your best friend?”
Miles smiled at the trick question. “I’m good, Nate. Promise. I assume the other boats went on their way?”
“Yeah, they were pretty far ahead,” Hayes said. “They’ll be sorry they missed the show.”
“Since we’re already pulled over, I’ll patch you up and we’ll have lunch,” Nate said.
Miles leaned over and shook the water out of his left ear.
“I’m so sorry,” Paulson said.
“Nah, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention and dropped my paddle when it collided with a rock.
I should’ve let it float behind me, but I reached for it just as we hit the first swell.
When the boat popped up, I popped out.” Miles took off his shirt and wrung it out.
“First rule of canoeing is keep your mind on the water. I let my thoughts wander.”
“A rare misstep by the best paddler I know.” Nate dug through his dry bag and pulled out a first-aid kit. “Must’ve been some big thoughts.”
So big, Miles needed advice. Nate and Hayes both were in long-term relationships. He wasn’t sure Paulson had anything useful to add, but they had reached a point in their friendship where Miles could trust him.
“I’ve been having panic attacks. I had them in college, but I didn’t know what they were, and at some point, they dissipated.” He wiped his face with his wet shirt and blotted his cheek. Blood, but not a lot. He must’ve scraped against something on his way down the rapid.
“Panic attacks suck.” Hayes handed Miles his water bottle. “You ever get that help I suggested?”
“Ayuh. I saw my therapist every day this week and we have a plan.” Miles loosened his boots, kicked them off, and set them in the sun to dry. He hated having wet feet. He’d grab his Crocs once the group relaunched and floated down the calm stretch of the river to their campsite.
“Daily appointments?” Hayes grimaced. “What brought that on?”
“Before the party Saturday night, Avery said she loved me, and I … I didn’t say it back.” Miles touched his tender cheek, feeling for a bump. “We got separated at the fundraiser and when we got home, things came to a head. I blamed her, she blamed me.”
He took a sip of water. Nate dug through the first-aid kit.
“She looked for you the whole time I was with her.” Paulson rubbed his forehead. “I tried to help. We spotted you three or four times, but every time we got ready to head your way, you’d moved. She figured you’d find her on the dance floor.”
“I know,” Miles said, wincing as Nate cleaned his cheek with antiseptic foam.
“I was self-absorbed and anxious about my speech. Not the best time to drop that she loved me. Maybe she said it because she was anxious too. I knew almost everyone at the party. She knew three people. In the heat of the argument, I bolted into my bedroom. The next morning, she tried to break up with me.”
Nate handed him clean gauze and Miles held it over the wound, applying pressure to his cheek while Nate inspected the various bandages.
“Sounds like she tried to protect herself,” Nate said, selecting a pack of butterfly bandages. “Can’t say I blame her after everything that happened the first time you two dated. You’re a runner, Miles, but you can’t outrun love.”
When they met up after this trip, Miles hoped Avery didn’t see breaking up as their only option.
“I talked her out of it,” he said. “She had to go to Lily’s bachelorette, and we’re planning to talk after I get back.”
Miles studied the gauze. There was a moderate amount of blood. Enough for a regular adhesive bandage.
“Nate, I think this cut is small. I don’t need all that.”
Nate moved Miles’s cheek into the light and studied the cut. “I’m sticking with butterflies.”
Miles decided not to argue. Nate had already peeled the backing off one, and the glint in his eye said he couldn’t wait to apply it.
He’d always been heavy-handed when it came to first aid.
After they’d pricked their thumbs with a sewing needle and become blood brothers at age ten, Nate wound an entire roll of gauze around their thumbs. He’d also put Miles’s arm in a sling.
“So what do you want to say to Avery?” Hayes asked.
Miles sat still as Nate applied the first bandage. He wanted to say he loved her, but that felt too big to admit now.
“I’m never lonely when I’m with her. I know that’s selfish, but it’s true. I want a future with her where we bring joy to each other’s lives.”
“So you want to say you love her too?” Paulson said.
It sounded so simple, yet the thought of saying it made Miles’s pulse quicken and his chest tighten. He’d learned a couple methods for managing panic attacks in therapy. They were also tackling his instinct to push Avery away when she often made his most intense feelings seem bearable.
As Nate opened the second bandage, Miles touched his cheek again, wondering if he should admit the real reason he couldn’t say it. His therapist had asked a question that kept replaying in his head.
If you knew it would end in hurt, would you do it anyway?
They’d been discussing his revelation that people loved their pets knowing they’d outlive them. His therapist suggested a dog might help Miles accept unconditional love and lessen his fear of loving anyone, including Avery. Could he love Avery if it ended the way his parents’ relationship had?
“I want to fully commit, but if I think about it too much, a rush of fear comes over me.” He turned his cheek to Nate. “I have a history of losing the people I love, and I don’t know if I can put myself in that position again.”
“Do you know how mad I get when you say that?” Nate pressed the second bandage onto Miles’s cheek and stood back.
“I know your mom’s passing left an enormous hole in your heart.
But sometimes I wonder if you woke up one day and decided to be lonely.
Look around you, Miles.” He waved at Paulson and Hayes.
“You haven’t lost me or any of these guys here.
You’ve got your whole hometown rooting for you.
Heck, my parents think you’re their second son.
You’re rich with people who love you. And I know you love us. ”
“You didn’t lose me, Anna Catherine, and Lennox,” Hayes said.
“Or me.” Paulson smirked. “But good God, did you try.”
Miles laughed. He didn’t deserve Paulson’s friendship, but he welcomed it. But Avery’s love felt bigger and riskier than friendship.
“I want to say I love her,” he said. “But every time I get close, I panic. And I can see how much I’m hurting her. It’s all over her face.”
Hayes sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Paulson tilted his head to the side and grimaced, as if he knew a little about Miles’s predicament.
“Saying you love someone is like jumping off a dock,” Nate said, packing up the first-aid supplies. “The first time is the hardest. You get so worked up about saying it, it becomes its own life force. But I promise, it gets easier each time. One day, you’ll find yourself saying it all the time.”
He wondered if Nate chose the dock analogy on purpose.
When Miles was about six, all he’d wanted was to jump off Montressa’s dock.
Nate and his other friends were already doing it, and they were having fun.
He’d watched them jump in enough times to know you sank when you hit the water.
Everyone always floated back up, but what if he kept sinking?
He’d stood at the end of the dock, thought about it, and tried a running start but each time, he’d stopped himself and backed away.
The anxiety of sinking grew into a roadblock.
Finally, his parents intervened. His father stood in the water and offered to catch him.
His mother offered to hold his hand and jump in with him.
It had taken one jump with her before he’d done it by himself time after time.
The safety they had given him set him up for a lifetime of fun on the water.
“I know you love her, Miles.” Hayes passed him a sandwich. “People don’t hope for another chance with someone they feel lukewarm about.”
True, but their chance would be short-lived. She’d leave for school in a couple weeks.
“Is all of this worth it if we won’t be in the same town in two weeks?” he asked.
“Hell yeah. Lily and I had an entire ocean between us when she lived in France,” Nate said. “You can make it work.”
“If she can’t come to you, could you go to her?” Paulson asked. “You tech guys are always bragging about how you can work from anywhere. Do it.”
“I’m a retired tech guy, and I have other commitments,” Miles said. “I’d have to put my classes on hold at NYU.”
“Or do what I did in college,” Paulson said. “No Friday classes and no Monday classes equals a four-day weekend.”
“Paulson, you might be the smartest guy I know.” Miles unwrapped the sandwich. “Now I regret not listening to you sooner.”
“Hey, I’m a nepo baby.” Paulson winked. “We live for shortcuts. Training begins early, in our Gucci strollers.”
As the four of them ate lunch, Miles did something else his therapist had suggested. He practiced a little gratitude.
Ever since his mother passed away, Miles had envisioned himself as an island.
Alone and lonely. All that time, his friends had been there for him, ready to pull him up.
Perhaps he should stop pushing away the love that embraced him every day.
If his friends accepted his panic attacks, Avery might too.
If her understanding resulted in a deeper connection, it would be worth the effort.
He wanted things. Avery. Tabasco. Waking up on Saturday morning and figuring out the weekend together. That sounded like contentment. Trying to protect himself from pain had become bigger than it should’ve. So big, it kept him from leaping off the proverbial dock.
“Thanks, guys.” Miles wrapped up the last of his lunch. “I’m lucky to have you.”
“We all find our own families,” Hayes said. “And you’ll always be a part of ours. That’s why people have Friendsgiving.”
“Okay, family.” Nate clapped his hands together. “If we want to celebrate Friendsgiving this year, we should get back on the river so we can make it to camp, meet up with our party, and catch some fish for dinner.”
Miles stood and extended a hand to Paulson. “Willing to give me another chance? I promise to hold onto my paddle.”
“Of course.” Paulson reached out and let Miles pull him up. “The great thing about second chances is our mistakes become part of our story as opposed to the entire story.”
Miles took out his phone and typed Paulson’s words into his notes app. “Who said that?”
“I did. It’s a Paulson original.” Paulson climbed into the stern of the canoe. “But you can use it.”
“I don’t want to use it. I want to live by it.” Miles shoved the canoe off the riverbank and jumped into the bow.