Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
“So, thank you all for being here,” Mike’s dad lifts his glass in the air, “and I’m looking forward to seeing you all on the big day tomorrow.”
I lift my glass up as well, joining everyone else at the long table as glasses clink and a cheerful sound of celebration echoes throughout the room. The rehearsal dinner is now winding down, and I hate that I feel kind of happy about that.
Natalie and Marie rise from the table, chatting about desserts as they head off to the buffet. I sit back with my drink as the cool condensation from the glass dampens my fingers, and I absently swirl the liquid, trying to keep my mind off Arthur. But I can’t.
I’m worried about him.
“I think Big Poppa’s got an epic speech locked and loaded for tomorrow,” Jason says from across the table as he watches Mike’s dad sit back down next to his son and proudly survey the room. “What about you?” he says, turning to me. “You going to be delivering a showstopper tomorrow night? ”
I chuckle, but it feels hollow. “Obviously.” I lift my glass for another sip, then flip my phone over to check for any notifications for probably the tenth time in the last three minutes.
And I catch Jason and Greg exchanging a glance.
“Have you heard from him since…?” Jason trails off, but his meaning is clear. Since Arthur and I last spoke at his house a couple days ago.
I nod, exhaling a deep sigh. “Yeah, we’ve texted a bit. Just to check in.”
“How’s he doing?” Greg asks.
Another sigh escapes me, this time heavier, as a pain settles right in my chest. “He’s having a hard time.”
I rub a hand over my face, fighting the urge to text him again. I want to reach out to him and help him through this, but I also respect his need for space. When he told me how overwhelmed he is, and what that feels like… the constant buzzing in his body he can’t escape, everything feeling like it’s just too much, and he can’t even make sense of it… My heart broke for him. He lives like this all the time, and I can’t even imagine the level of strength it takes for him to navigate each day and be as successful, and amazing, as he is. And now, with this client… It pains me to think of him dealing with it all alone, even though I understand why he needs quiet and solitude to sort through it all.
“You know…” I shift in my chair, glancing around the bustling restaurant, taking in the clatter of plates, the hum of conversation, the flickering candlelight, the opening and closing of the kitchen door, and so much more I’m all suddenly aware of. “He said he didn’t talk to me about it because he said it was done. But looking back… there were days when he seemed so overwhelmed, I’m wondering if I just didn’t pick up on it…”
“Hey, no.” Jason shakes his head firmly. “You’ve always been there for him. And he’s been there for you too. Don’t doubt that.”
Greg nods. “It’s been awesome to see you so happy.” He pauses as a thoughtful look crosses his face. “And we didn’t know Arthur before he met you, but… he lights up when you look at him.”
Jason smirks. “It’s disgustingly adorable.”
A smile tugs at my lips as I picture his wild red hair, and his sparkling green eyes that always seem to hold such a depth of emotion. “Thanks, guys.” I nod. “After the wedding tomorrow, I’ll ask if I can go see him. I’m just worried… his parents are away, and he’s all alone. Even though I know it’s what he needs… I just want to help him.”
Greg reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Let us know if either of you need anything.”
“Thanks.” I glance towards the restaurant door as it opens, a warm breeze rolling in as the last few rays of the setting sun spreads across the darkening sky. Then I push my chair back and stand up. “I’m just going to step outside for a bit.”
Jason waves me off with a look of understanding as Natalie and Marie return to the table with plates full of dessert.
I walk out of the restaurant and onto the terrace, letting the warm air brush over my skin as I roll up my sleeves. Automatically, I take a deep breath, savouring the fresh, salty scent of the ocean, and stop at the edge of the cliff overlooking the water.
A large iceberg floats in the distance, its jagged edges glowing white against the darkening sky. My eyes trace its bright, sharp form above the surface, like a fortress guarding and protecting its true self… its true colours hidden until it chooses to reveal them. I wonder if it even knows how much depth it holds, and how much it’s weighed down by what’s under the surface. If more of it can rise above, lightening its load, just a little bit …
“What’s your favourite tree?”
The voice catches me off guard, and I turn to see a guy standing nearby, also staring out at the iceberg. He’s tall, with shoulder-length hair swaying slightly in the breeze.
I glance around, but there’s no one else out here.
“Me?” I ask.
He turns to look at me, eyebrow cocked like I’m being weird. “Who else?”
I take him in for a moment, not even sure where he came from. His dark eyes hold some kind of wild energy, like he’s desperate for my answer to his question.
“Uh…” I shrug, glancing at the line of trees behind him. “Maple, I guess?”
He lets out a disappointed sigh, and turns back to the iceberg. “Yeah. That’s a good one.”
Clearly, that wasn’t the answer he was hoping for. I turn back to the iceberg, but curiosity gets the best of me, and I steal another glance at him. His tattoos cover his arms, hands, and creep up his neck, making him seem completely out of place here. Yet, at the same time, there’s a strange sense of calm and peace about him. It’s unsettling and comforting all at once, stirring both caution and curiosity in me. I notice he’s wearing a cut, and when I glance behind him, I see the motorcycle parked nearby.
“You from here?” I ask.
He shakes his head, still staring out at the iceberg. “I’m here from New Brunswick on business.”
My gaze darts back to the motorcycle, then to the tattoos covering his knuckles. “What… kind of business?” I ask cautiously.
“Why Maple?” He turns his head back to me with a furrowed brow.
I hesitate, unsure if I should be scared of giving the wrong answer. “Because the leaves turn red in the fall…?”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “That’s not that special.”
What the fuck is happening right now? I almost feel like I’m supposed to ask him what his favourite tree is. But before I can, he nods towards the iceberg.
“I’ve never seen one before.” He tilts his head, observing it with genuine curiosity. “It’s brighter than I thought it would be. More white, not as blue.” Then he casts me a knowing sideways glance. “I’ve only been here a couple days. Just waiting for the allclear to head up to St. John’s. But… your local law seems very forgiving.” He shrugs, shifting his attention back out over the water. “So, a little sightseeing break has been absolutely lovely.”
Who is this guy?
“How long does it take them to get down here?” He looks up the coast, like he’s trying to see where the iceberg came from.
“Um…” I shrug, carefully taking a step away from him when he’s not looking. “I don’t know… It depends on the size, shape, ocean currents, waves, wind… and sometimes they get stuck on the seabed when they’re brought closer to land by strong winds or currents.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Beautiful. They’re on an irregular path in life, just like all of us. More time, more distance, but a stronger story.”
I turn to look at him, surprised by his insightfulness. “Yeah…” I nod.
And I can’t help but think of me and Arthur. Our path hasn’t been straightforward either, full of obstacles, detours, and external forces that made us take the long way around. But that’s the beauty of it… The irregular path we’ve taken has only made us stronger.
A small smile tugs at my lips as I think back to when it all began for us, and when we connected over that book he was reading. He said the world is changing so fast, it’s hard to imagine what the future will look like. That we, as humans, might be building a world that doesn’t have a place for us. But we’ve done the opposite. We’ve faced all those forces, and held on to everything that makes us wild while we created the perfect world for us .
“I did hear though,” the guy’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, “that the smaller pieces of ice from an iceberg are called bergy bits and growlers.”
I look at him, unsure what to make of that.
He gives me a serious, pointed look. “You should laugh at that. That’s fucking funny.”
A little chuckle escapes me. Because well, yeah, it is kind of funny. And I’m also kind of afraid not to.
His phone suddenly starts ringing… with a quacking duck ringtone.
I am so fucking confused by this guy.
He presses it to his ear, says nothing, then hangs up.
“Well, duty calls.” He gives me a salute, then pauses on his way to his bike to look up at the large Maple tree nearby. He gives it a disapproving shake of his head, then hops on his bike. The rumbling fills the peaceful air around me until it fades away, and I’m left wondering if any of that even happened.
Weird.
I turn back towards the iceberg, the quiet settling over me as my thoughts drift to the journey it must have taken to get here. But as my gaze shifts down the coast, I smile.
The ocean floor of Newfoundland’s south coast is known to have deep scours from icebergs scraping the seabed. The iceberg’s irregular and unpredictable journey may cause them to get stuck and scar the earth… but these scars have created one of the world's richest fishing grounds .
Being stuck or lost doesn’t mean the journey is broken. Sometimes, those scars lead to something even better.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, picturing Arthur’s bright red hair, his gorgeous green eyes, and his smile that makes me feel like the luckiest man on earth.
We’ll be ok.