Chapter 20 #2
I glance at Abby. How do I explain that what Abby said today about regrets has been gnawing at me? That she unknowingly pointed out the flaw in my logic about living my life without regrets.
I don’t know if I’ll get to the end of my life or if my dad will get to the end of his life and I’ll wish I had done something different.
But spending the last eight days with Abby has made me realize how unpredictable life can be.
If someone had told me three years ago that Abby and I would reconnect like this, I would have laughed in their face, but here we are.
And here I am, hoping she wants to give us another chance despite the mistake I made eleven years ago.
So maybe…just maybe…there’s a version of my life where I regret not having a relationship with my dad because he made one mistake. A big, hurtful, family-ruining mistake—but Gray was able to forgive him, and maybe it’s possible that I could too.
It feels like an impossible mountain to climb, but plenty of things seem impossible before they happen.
“I’m just wondering,” I say. It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s all I can manage.
“Okay…yeah, he’s, uh, he’s good. He just came and visited me actually. He was in town for work and we got dinner and went to Alcatraz. Lived there for years and never went, but all it takes is one out-of-towner and all of a sudden, I’m a tourist.”
“I’ve always wanted to go there. San Francisco, not Alcatraz,” Abby says. “Mostly to see the bridge, but I wanna see The Painted Ladies.”
“Oh yeah, we went and saw those houses. Nancy really wanted to—”
“She was there?” I interrupt, my heart racing. My palms start to sweat and my throat feels too tight. “That woman? She came with Dad?”
“Well, yeah, they’re—”
“I do not care. I asked about Dad. I didn’t ask about that woman.”
“They’re married, Miles. How am I—”
“I’ll be right back,” I say, interrupting him again, abruptly getting up from the table to go to the bathroom. I don’t really need it, so I stand in front of the sink and splash some cold water on my face.
I thought I could do it. I thought I was evolved enough to be able to just ask about my father, hear a thing or two about him, but apparently I am not.
One mention of the woman he left our family for and I feel like I’m eighteen again, finding out for the first time that he’s leaving us behind for his new life.
Pressure builds behind my eyes, but I look up at the ceiling.
I’m not going to shed a single fucking tear for that man.
There’s a knock on the door.
“One second,” I say. There are two single bathrooms here, so I know I’m holding someone up, but I need time to come back to myself.
“Miles,” says a voice from the other side of the door. “It’s me.”
Abby.
I crack the bathroom door to the sight of a petite brunette with wide, concerned eyes and a too-sweet smile.
“Let me in.” She pushes on the door and I open it enough for her to slip in, closing and locking it behind her.
“You’re lucky this is a one-stall situation,” I say.
“I would have come in if it were a five-stall situation.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you,” she says and runs her hands down my arms in a slow, comforting gesture. I slide my arms around her waist, and she envelops me in a hug. I tuck my face into her neck.
“I’m okay,” I murmur against her skin. She smells like coconut and jasmine and something citrusy. She smells like summertime and, more than anything, she smells like mine.
“That was really brave of you,” she says.
This time when tears prick my eyes, I blink them away, not because I don’t want to cry in front of Abby, but because if I start, I don’t know when I would stop.
I can’t remember the last time someone told me I was being brave.
It might be the first time ever. And coming from Abby, it means everything.
I straighten, lifting her off the floor, and she wraps her legs around my waist. She strokes my hair, soothing me, running her hand down the back of my neck.
There’s no buzzing when she hugs me like this—my chest isn’t tight and my thoughts don’t circle.
She’s such a calming presence; I don’t think anything in the world would bother me as long as Abby is nearby.
“I thought I would be able to ask about him. To talk about him without feeling violent, but I can’t.”
“It won’t happen overnight, you know? You want things instantly—it’s just…kind of how you are. But this isn’t something you’re going to be able to fix instantly. It’ll take time.”
Her whole body lifts and lowers with my deep inhale and exhale.
“Why doesn’t Gray hate him like I do?”
I feel like a child even having the thought, but I know Abby is safe. She won’t judge me or make me feel dumb for saying these things out loud.
“He just…had a different experience of the whole thing. Maybe it’s an older-brother thing. Those protective instincts. I don’t know.”
I hold her just a little tighter and hope no one knocks on the bathroom door. A few minutes pass in silence, just Abby and me holding each other while I come back to myself fully.
“Do you want to go back out or cuddle in the bathroom for the rest of the night?” she finally asks.
“Option B.”
“Yeah, okay, fair, but I am hungry.”
I set her down, but she stays in my arms, cupping my face in her hands.
“You okay?”
I nod, offering her a small smile. “Thank you,” I say, although those words are not enough to convey how grateful I am for her checking in on me.
She leans into me and draws me in for a soft kiss.
We rejoin Gray at the table, where the appetizers have been cleared away, and Gray has a second beer in hand.
“So what’s the deal with you two?” He gestures between us as we settle back into our seats. “Did y’all just have sex in the bathroom?”
“Gray, come on,” I say as Abby practically shouts, “No!” and hides her face in her hands.
He cackles as a waiter stops at our table, offloading plates of sushi with the promise to be back with more.
If it wasn’t awkward before, it is now, and all of us glance at each other, offering weird smiles as we wait for the food.
We all drink our beer and avoid eye contact until all the sushi we ordered is in front of us.
“So…” Gray prompts as we load our plates.
I look to Abby, who is looking at me. We exchange curious glances like…who will answer first and what is the real answer? We haven’t talked about it, so we don’t know.
“There’s not really—I mean, we aren’t, like, back together, if that’s what you’re asking,” Abby says, glancing between Gray and me. She seems just as nervous to be answering as I am to hear her answer.
I give her an approving nod. I would have said something similar if she hadn’t answered first.
“Oh, so a nice little vacation fling and then you’ll go home and find a real man to date, huh?” Gray asks, obviously trying to provoke me. It’s working.
I grip my chopsticks so hard, I practically snap them in two.
The idea of Abby going home and dating anyone has me seeing red.
Like I was just some kind of starter for her.
The horse she got back on so she could go find another one.
My blood boils, and the only reason I’m able to calm myself is that I see the mischief in Gray’s eyes and I know he’s rage-baiting me.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Abby says with a light laugh. Some of the rage in me dissolves.
Gray doesn’t press her for more, seemingly satisfied with rankling me and making Abby blush. He asks her more about her interest in graphic design, something she must have mentioned earlier when I zoned out, offering his company up as a guinea pig if she wanted to practice anything.
Abby is so excited about the prospect that she asks the waiter for a pen and spends the rest of the dinner drawing sample logos on a napkin between bites of sushi.
By the time dinner is over, Gray has a pocket full of napkin sketches and Abby has the kind of energy usually reserved for kids who have just eaten too much candy.
When Gray heads back to his room, I offer to take a walk on the beach with Abby. Both of us could probably stand to burn off some energy. She hooks her hand around my bicep and starts following the paved path that leads to the beach.
“You read my mind.”
The sun has long since left the sky, and while the heat of the day is gone, the humidity is not. After sitting in an air-conditioned restaurant, the thick air swarms us, pressing in on all sides. Lines of sweat form along my hairline and down my back already.
The whoosh of the ocean gets louder as we get closer to it, and all the chatter and clatter from the restaurants start to fade behind us. The path to the beach is well-lit with warm lights embedded along the edges of the sidewalk, but once we’re at the sand, it’s much darker.
We slip off our shoes and I roll up the edges of my pants.
Tucking our shoes off to the side of the path, we take to the sand and head toward the water with only the moon to light our way.
She’s bright tonight—not full, but close.
And with a clear sky, not a cloud in sight, all the stars are out on full display as well.
It’s dizzying to look up and see it all, so I focus on traversing the sand and keeping Abby upright.
She only had two beers, but I don’t think her food-to-alcohol ratio was enough to keep her completely sober.
Our feet sink into the wet sand, leaving temporary footprints as we walk.
The water washes away any evidence of where we’ve been and splashes over our feet and ankles.
My knee smarts, but I power through the pinch of pain.
With Abby on my arm and the salty spray of the ocean settling on my skin, there isn’t anywhere else I’d choose to be right now.
Normally, I like to fill the silence, and while there are things I want to talk about with Abby, if we walked and never said a word to each other the whole time, that would be okay too.
I feel content in a way I haven’t in a long time.
“So you bought a house in Rhode Island,” Abby says.
“I did.”
I’m relieved she brought it up, but a low buzz of unease starts in my chest.
“A beach house?”
“It is a beach house.”
The silence that follows my confirmation is heavy with implications and assumptions. I’d rather just clear the air.
“I bought it before I moved to Mexico. We weren’t even—I had no idea I’d ever see you again.”
“I don’t think you bought it because of us, but—”
“I didn’t. I mean, it crossed my mind. Rhode Island is a good market for a profitable flip and of course I was thinking about you while I was looking at houses.
I won’t lie. I wondered what you would like, what it would have been like for us to look at them together.
But I wasn’t going to, like…grand gesture you or something.
You know, show up on your wedding day and object. I didn’t even know you were engaged.”
“I just wasn’t expecting it. Took me off guard.”
I let the silence acknowledge her words, not knowing the best ones to say next.
“I’m not going to keep it,” I say. “It wouldn’t feel right.”
Not without you.
“Well, I’ll keep my eye out for a newly renovated home in a few months.”
“Oh, it’ll take at least a year.”
“I’ll set a reminder on my phone,” she says and tilts her head up to offer me the sweetest smile.
There are so many ways I could respond. All of them imply that she and I are still seeing each other in a year or that maybe we’d reconnect again in a year’s time.
I don’t want to make a casual joke about it now, though.
I want to have a real conversation with her, but I want us both to be clear-minded.
We’ve both had just enough alcohol that I decide the conversation should wait.
“Gray seemed to like your logos,” I say, offering a change of subject.
She takes the bait. “And I really liked sketching some ideas for him,” she says. I don’t have to see her face to know that she’s absolutely beaming.
“Did it make you rethink how ‘selfish’ graphic design is?”
She offers me a defeated grin. “Maybe a little.”
“Make you think about saying yes to the program?”
“Honestly, it did. I haven’t felt that excited about art in a long time. Not like that anyway. I’m always excited to teach new students a new skill or to see them improve an old one, but for me? I haven’t been excited about art for myself for a long time.”
“You deserve that, you know?”
“Deserve what?”
“Good things. Joy. To do things just because you love them.”
She leans her head against my shoulder. “I might be starting to believe that,” she says, her words almost drowned out by the ocean.
I wish I could give her all the things she deserves. I wish I could be part of bringing her joy in this life, of providing her with good things that make her happy. I want that. I want to be one of those things in her life that makes her happy.
All I can do now is hope that she wants that too.