Chapter 36
thirty-six
Percy
I’m still thinking about my mom when I give up on RuneWorld Online and wander into the garden through the same door Chris had taken earlier.
Some small part of me hopes I’ll find him sitting beneath a maple tree waiting for me…
but of course, I don’t. He’s long gone by now, run off to who knows where.
My thoughts begin to darken, but for once, I don’t let myself wallow.
No sense wasting the day pining after Chris—not when I’m the one who pushed him away in the first place.
Instead, I walk around to the front and find an Adirondack chair with a good view of the lake.
The chilly air’s not too bad with the afternoon sun warming my skin.
There’s a quiet comfort to being out here.
Like so many other places on Mackinac Island, it conjures fond memories from my childhood.
Like that time Owen and I had tried to make our own croquet course by sticking twigs in the ground in lieu of wickets. That game had ended pretty quick when I’d thwacked a ball hard enough to send it careening into the street and spooked a passing horse.
Or all those lazy days I’d spent reading side-by-side with my mom.
As much as I love my dad, that’s something we’ve never really had.
The silences between us always feel strained, begging to be filled with talking or laughter.
Though perhaps these days, that’s in part due to how desperate we are to ignore the missing presence that’s no longer with us.
The sun is fading into late afternoon when I rise and stretch.
Deciding to go for a walk, I turn right, away from downtown.
I take my time, watching the water, but my feet know better than me where I want to go, and soon enough, I’ve retraced the same path Chris and I followed to reach Sunset Rock.
I hesitate when I hear voices coming from the outcropping ahead. Someone else must’ve beaten me to it.
I’m about to turn back when I catch a sweet chuckle carried on the breeze, followed by a half-whispered murmur that sounds intimate. Sunset Rock’s known for wedding pictures. My parents had visited it themselves back in the day. Is there some other happy couple there now, enjoying the view?
Curious despite myself, I creep up the worn stone steps so I can see onto the outcropping.
Two guys stand chatting in the middle of the ledge.
At first, I think I must’ve been mistaken in my assumption, but then one of the guys leans in closer to the other—too close to be only friendly—and runs a hand up his back.
The other guy leans into the touch, closing his eyes as he rests his head on the first guy’s shoulder.
The first guy smiles and presses a kiss to the other guy’s forehead.
They’re both wearing suits, I realize. Maybe this is part of a wedding after all—just not the sort I’d envisioned.
A deep blush rises in my cheeks at their open display of intimacy.
I should probably go back the way I’d come and leave them in peace.
This seems like too personal a moment for a stranger to interrupt.
And yet, I find myself unable to look away, marveling at the sure way they demonstrate their affection without worrying what anyone else who sees might think.
Why can’t I be like that?
Tight bands of frustration constrict my chest. It’s not fair!
Watching them, I can’t help but picture me and Chris in their place, Chris with his arms wrapped around me while I lean back and kiss him without a concern in the world.
Suddenly, I want that more than anything. The freedom to let go. To be myself.
So, why can’t you?
All my usual excuses bubble up on demand. The uncertainty over how others might react. The thought of losing my dad or of other people I love turning their backs on me. The crippling sorrow that my mom wouldn’t recognize who her son had become in her absence.
But for the first time, I can start to see them for what they really are: excuses.
Rationalizations. It’s not that there aren’t valid fears in there, real reasons why someone might not want to risk coming out.
But they’re also a way for me to shield myself from the rest of the world.
To hold myself back under the guise of keeping myself safe when all I’m doing is trapping myself—rendering myself immune to the woes of the outside world while irrevocably setting me apart from it.
I must make a sound—stone shifting underfoot or an annoyed huff I don’t entirely suppress—because the two guys spin to look at me, their eyes widening in surprise.
“S-sorry,” I stammer, stepping back. “I-I didn’t mean to interrupt. You two enjoy the view.”
They glance at each other, unspoken communication seeming to pass between them, and then one of them looks back at me and smiles. “You’re welcome to join us if you want. It’s not like we have a monopoly on this spot.”
I hesitate, and the other one chimes in, “Come on. I promise we don’t bite, and you don’t want to miss the best part!” He gestures at the lake, and I see at once what he means. They’re here at the perfect time, the sun just beginning to sink beneath the horizon in a flurry of fire.
I open my mouth to make an excuse, but what comes out instead is, “Yeah. All right.”
I join them on the bluff, keeping several feet between us and fidgeting awkwardly.
Maybe they sense my discomfort because they don’t bother with small talk.
They turn back to each other, standing arm in arm as they watch the brilliant sight.
I do the same, and as the setting sun marks the end of another day—another Saturday in my endless procession of Saturdays—a kind of peace steals over me.
It’s not comfort or contentedness, not really.
More like a sense that I’m where I’m supposed to be.
Of new possibilities opening up before me.
Of untapped potential, waiting to be seized.
The question’s never been whether I have a choice, I think, my face bathed in a dying inferno. It’s if I have the courage to make the one I want to.
“Do you live on the island?” one of the guys asks me as darkness descends.
I shake my head. “Just visiting. But my family spent a lot of time here when I was growing up.”
“Oh, yeah? We’re here through Monday. Anything we should make sure to check out before we go?” He gives a mock shudder. “I mean, assuming we survive the ceremony tomorrow unscathed.”
The other guy makes an affronted sound and punches him playfully on the shoulder. “Come on, it won’t be that bad.”
The first guy gives him a flat look. “Your family and my family will be mingling for hours. With booze.”
The second guy winces. “Okay, yeah, maybe it’s apt to label it a warzone.”
The first guy smiles, his sharp face softening as he takes the second guy’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure our groomsmen run interference. If there are any flying projectiles, I expect them to take the bullet for us.”
The second guy snorts and shakes his head. He kisses the first guy on the brow. “Of course, you do.”
They gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes, and I have to look away.
It’s too much, especially with memories of Chris still so close at hand.
I clear my throat, searching for something to say.
“Make sure to try some fresh fudge,” I offer, answering their earlier question.
“It’s like a sin to come to Mackinac Island and not eat some.
And if you have a chance, take a bike ride around the island perimeter. ”
The first guy nods. “Anything else?”
“Honestly, it’s all great. Just make sure you give yourselves enough time to take it all in. Things tend to move slower here.”
The first guy snorts. “Right. Well, that’s what happens when you replace cars with horses.”
The other guy elbows him and shakes his head fondly before turning to me and holding out his cell phone with a hopeful expression. “Can you take our picture? Before it gets too dark.”
The sun’s already mostly sunk beneath the horizon, only its final faint gasp visible, but I shrug. “No problem.”
I take his phone and line up the shot. Again, I’m struck by how perfect the two of them seem together. It’s clear they’re in love—even if they weren’t standing wrapped in each other’s arms, I’d be able to tell by the way they can’t keep their eyes off one another.
Does Chris look at me like that? What about when I look at him?
Tough questions whose answers I’m not ready to examine too closely. I don’t know which would be worse: if we’d never had what these two have or if I simply hadn’t been willing to accept it until it was too late.
I snap the picture of the two grinning lovebirds and pass the phone back to them before making my escape. If I spend another minute in their presence, I’m worried I might do something drastic like scream or weep, and either would probably put a damper on their night.
“Make the most of your time here!” the first guy calls after me as I descend. “Life’s too short for anything else.”
He’s right. Even when you’ve got all the time in the world, somehow, it never seems like enough.
I make the return trip to the Royal Lilac more quickly, hoping to get back before the light completely fades.
Ahead, I spy a figure standing off the road on the shore, gazing toward Sunset Rock.
Shadows dance across them, and it takes me a moment to recognize Owen, his tall, lanky frame hunched over.
For once, his face isn’t contorted with anger, but at this distance and with the dim light, I can’t parse what emotion he wears.
Had he been watching that couple as well?
I start toward him, but as soon as Owen notices me, his face shutters into a scowl. I promised Carol, I remind myself as I force a grin. “Hey, Owen. What are you doing out here?”
“None of your business,” he snaps.
Resolved not to give up so easily this time, I say, “Whatever’s going on with you, you can talk to me, you know. I might not have been the best friend these past couple of years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. If you’re dealing with something, maybe I can help.”
For a moment, I think I might have actually gotten through to him. His expression loses some of its heat, leaving him looking lost.
“Owen…” I reach for him, resting a hand on his arm.
I regret it instantly.
That brief touch seems to snap him out of whatever lull had come over him, and he shoves me roughly away. “Don’t touch me!” he snarls. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me. Until you go away tomorrow, just leave me the hell alone!”
He storms past, vanishing up the road, and I sigh, silently berating myself.
Great job, Percy. You handled that super well.
Something in the way he’d said go away nags at me.
Is he upset at the prospect of me leaving again?
That seems absurd when he’s gone out of his way across every loop to make me feel unwelcome.
Or maybe he’s eagerly anticipating his own opportunity to go away.
Carol had mentioned how she suspects he can’t wait to escape the island.
You and me both, I think morosely as I resume my trek back to the welcoming lights of the Royal Lilac. You and me both.