Chapter 28
Izzy starts work on the roof on Monday morning.
It’s August third and she thinks it’s going to be about three weeks of work, taking the project right to the day I will have her final payment ready.
The first stage is removing all the existing shingles from the roof and tossing them into a dumpster that’s now on my front lawn between Christopher and his view of the maple tree.
The week goes on like this, with Christopher monitoring their progress from a beach chair while we’re at work. And I see Stewart every single day.
Most days, he’s waiting outside for me when I leave the fish house.
Sometimes he’s on a call and we just walk together back to Goose Lane, holding hands.
This tugs at me, the fact that he has no time to see me, but he does it anyway.
That it’s worth it to him to climb down from his tower and take his calls on the go just so he can hold hands with me for three blocks.
We meet after dinner, usually on his boat.
We sketch out plans for my renovated sleeping porch, and it’s my favorite project.
I like sharing the pencil and erasing tiny details until we have the proportions exactly right.
Each stone of the fireplace is carefully placed by us, and while I know I’m never going to do the renovation, I will keep this sketch forever.
Most nights he sneaks into the sleeping porch when it’s late and I tell him the coast is clear.
Stewart and Gus have two sailing lessons that week in the evenings.
I stand on the shore and watch as they silently prepare two small sailboats like they’ve been doing this forever.
Short instructions are received with nods in that way that some men can talk with a total economy of syllables.
I can’t hear what they’re saying as they raise their sails and catch the wind until they are smaller and smaller.
Watching this, I worry I might have been na?ve or even arrogant to think that Gus would be fine without a father.
I did so much caretaking for my family as a kid that I figured I was uniquely qualified to do this on my own.
I’d surround Gus with friends, and he’d have my dad nearby.
In most respects it has been fine, but what he doesn’t have is the confidence that comes from having a second person who completely has your back.
I see it in the eyes of the kid who shows up to baseball practice with his dad who’s carrying the balls because he’s the coach.
I saw a flicker of it in Gus today as he climbed into a tiny boat to do things with ropes and winches that I don’t understand.
Stewart told me last night, under the covers in my daybed, that he never thought he could be this happy.
Naomi has thoughts. “The way you’re retelling this makes it sound like he means it.”
“It’s not just sex, either,” I say. I’m holding my phone to my ear while scooping handfuls of scallops onto the scale. I give the elderly customer an apologetic smile. “That’ll be twenty-three ninety-five.”
“But it’s great sex, which is a bonus,” Naomi says.
“Yes, but.” I’ve rung up the last customer and I slide the chalkboard menu down onto the floor.
Yes, but I like him. Yes, but I really like him.
Yes, but I feel my expectations rise every time I’m with him.
I’m starting to trust that he actually means all of it, the way his eyes change when they land on mine.
“It’s more than that. He told me this morning that he wants to take Gus and me to see the Red Sox play the Mariners.
And that’s in September. Like the future. ”
“Oh,” she says.
We’re quiet on the phone for a bit. I hear a customer ask her a question about sizing. “Listen, I can’t give you advice on this, but bring him to Peepers tomorrow night. I’ve got to see this for myself.”