37
That familiar fog floated between Dan Foster’s ears, and the hair on his head felt heavy. It was the perfect predawn temperature, he pegged it around seventy-two degrees, give or take, and the waves were big enough that he wished the ocean would cough back up that rock he’d thrown in so long ago.
“You weren’t supposed to leave the airstrip.”
Mara Foster. She was behind him now, struggling with her crutches on the beach because she was holding more beers. Dan was there in a flash. His strength was returning, so he lifted her off her feet like he was carrying her across the threshold or something, and Mara giggled as they fell into the sand.
“Know what I’m doing when we get to the airport?” Dan asked.
“Auntie Anne’s.”
“Fucking right, Auntie Anne’s.” He shook his head. “Always get the pretzel.”
“Always get the pretzel,” Mara repeated.
They watched the water awhile.
“I just called my sister again.” Mara used her left foot to brush some sand off her cast. She opened a beer. “They’re all going to be there when we get back. I’m going to freak out when I see them, Danny. Your family’s coming too. They want to throw us a big party for our wedding, but I told her to wait until my foot heals because I want to dance. Oh, and she said my work sent over a huge care package, it’s at the apartment for us. How nice is that?”
Dan unlocked his phone, having only digested half of what Mara said. His head throbbed with thoughts of Tim’s stupid Spider-Man story. He was thinking of Lenny too, and Alan and Charles and Gloria. The halo of red snow around Pete Collins’s head. Julio under the garden. Rico as a stuntman. What Lilyanna said underground. He heard the deafening roar of the collapsing dome, but he shook it away.
“Did my work send anything?” he asked.
Mara took a swig. “Marvel Maids?”
“Yeah.” Dan opened the mail app.
“Raveena didn’t say anything.” She touched his leg and quickly followed up: “But that doesn’t mean they won’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
Mara rested her head on Dan’s shoulder. “Don’t do that, Danny. Don’t start worrying about that stuff right now. I’ve been thinking about what you said to me on our wedding night. I know Marvel Maids isn’t where you’d thought you’d be. I know it’s not your passion. I think you should write. Or whatever. Whatever you want to do. I mean, you’re right, I do think you’re capable of more than that place, but if nothing ever changed that would be okay too. But, hey, let’s not even think about it right now. Let’s get home. I just want you to be happy, Danny, even if—”
The mail sent chime rang from Dan’s phone.
Mara lifted her head and scowled. “Did you seriously not listen to anything I just said? You’re sending email ? Wow, Danny, I—”
“I just quit.” Dan dropped his phone into the sand like it was white-hot.
Mara pushed off him, beer leaking from her mouth. “You what ?”
Dan tried to keep a straight face, but a smile broke through the surface, and he repeated himself because he needed to hear it again too. “I just quit.”
Dan laughed as Mara lunged for his phone. He sipped his beer, watched her navigate to his sent folder. She found and quickly scanned the email. Her mouth agape, she looked from the phone to her husband, from her husband to the phone, back again.
“You just fucking quit,” she uttered.
“I did.” I did!
Mara shrieked and launched at him, hugging and kissing Dan and knocking him over. He cackled and pushed her away, but she clung on, and Dan said, “Careful with your foot, careful with your foot,” and she finally settled down atop him but still excitedly slapped his chest.
“You’re not mad?” Dan asked.
“No! Are you kidding? Danny!” She squeezed the sides of his head. “This is what I’ve wanted you to do! Screw Marvel Maids! This is so good. Wait. Does this make me a sugar mama?”
“I don’t know what came over me. I just—I had to, Mara. No more bullshit. Okay? No more feeling sorry for myself. After everything that’s happened…” He stopped. That wasn’t just Mara he was feeling on his chest anymore. “Christ. Okay. That was impulsive. Was that too impulsive? You just married a man with no source of income.”
“My mom will have questions.”
Dan found her eyes, stared deeply into them. “I’m really going to try to do something. Write something. I could write about what happened here, or—I don’t know. And even if it doesn’t work out, you know—it’s fine. I’ll get another job. I’m going to figure it out, Mara. I promise.”
“ We’re going to figure it out,” Mara said, curling into him.
Mara and Dan Foster were on their second Miller Lites when the sun rose.