47. Forty-seven
My mom knows the second she sees me something is off. I smile, I laugh, and I hug with gusto at the conveyor belt of baggage claim, but she sees every secret I can’t keep.
“You love him.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement of her delusion.
I scoff, shifting my luggage trash bag on my shoulder as we walk through the airport. “Love, Mom? That’s a bit extreme.”
“I knew I loved your dad the minute I met him. What’s so ridiculous about you spending a few weeks with a man and feeling the same thing?” She looks entirely bewildered at the thought.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter what it was or wasn’t, not really. I’m here, and he’s there, and each mile that separates us seems longer than the next. I want to focus on the kids now—enjoy our time together before Finn moves away and never wants to come back.” I try for a joke, but nothing feels funny.
She hums knowingly. “Just remember, Penelope, no two loves are the same.”
Piled into the car with my dad behind the wheel in a shirt covered in parrots, we spend the next hour driving toward the island we left behind almost two months ago. I crack the window as we cross the bridge from the mainland and let the familiar smells of saltwater that blow across water the color of Ethan’s eyes, welcome us home.
It’s after we’re settled and starting loads of laundry that I work up the nerve to turn my phone on, holding my breath as the messages come through from Ethan in rapid fire.
A note? Really?
Nel, it doesn’t have to be like this. We can figure it out.
Dammit, answer your phone.
Will you at least let me know you made it home?
My eyes burn like hot coals are jammed into them as I read and re-read his messages.
Finally, I find the courage to respond. Hi is all I can write.
A minute passes, then two, then finally three dots appear and disappear several times before a text.
Ethan:Hi.
My bones go soft just reading the word.
Ethan:Did you mean what you wrote in your note?
Me: I did.
Ethan: Okay.
Me:Okay.
When Marin finds me folding laundry late that night, I”m lost in the tangled web of my mind. She stands next to me and starts sorting.
“Do you think the trip worked, Mom?” She pinches two blue socks together and folds them in on each other.
“I think I’m done feeding you boxed food if that’s what you mean,” I say with a slight laugh.
She smiles. “Well, that’s progress.”
“Did camp work? You said you were looking for something to change and inspire you. Do you think it did?” I shake wrinkles out of a shirt with a loud snap of the fabric in the air.
She laughs softly under her breath.
“I don’t know. It was one of those things I’m proud I did because it was hard, but I’m not on track to be a park ranger or anything.”
“Well, that’s too bad. You’d rock a ranger uniform,” I tease.
She abandons folding the clothes and faces me. “What are you going to do about Ethan?”
I shrug. “There’s nothing to do.”
“I loved Maine,” she says.
“Me too, kid.”
***
The next morning, the kids are gone so early it’s like they didn’t just get home from a summer spent trekking around the country. Finn goes to baseball practice, and Marin goes to her friend’s house.
Alone, with a coffee in hand that surprisingly doesn’t taste nearly as bad as it used to, I replace the paintings in our living room with the one of the Androscoggin River. The corners and edges are tattered from being tossed around the Avion in the accident and then shoved with luggage on the plane ride to get home, but the bright colors that dapple the water and the vibrant lines that slope the mountains are still perfect.
I stare at it until I feel like I’m there. Until I can hear the whir of a fly rod and smell the smoke from a fire. I stare at it for so long that when the loud ring of my phone slices through the air, it makes me jump so high I spill coffee across my lap.
Dadflashes across the screen. I yelp from the heat of the coffee on my crotch as I answer, “Hey, Dad.”
I pinch the phone between my ear and shoulder as I fumble to pull too many paper towels off the roll.
“Nelly! If you’re up and moving, why don’t you come by the bar? We can talk about menu changes and some ideas I have. Catch up.”
What he means is, time for work, but I can hear his smile through the phone.
“Sure thing, Dad,” I say as I blot madly at the brown liquid on my shorts. “Let me finish up here, and I’ll be right over.”
I end the call and give one last longing look at the painting.
After I change my shorts, I go meet my dad.
Not even twenty-four hours home, and summer already feels like a dream that never really happened.
***
We are back in my dad’s office—the table he randomly selects next to the Gulf of Mexico under the palm frond thatched roof of the Crow’s Nest. Only this time, in his shirt covered with coconuts wearing sunglasses, it’s him who is speechless.
I didn’t plan it, but sometimes ideas are like that. They are just seeds until they take root and start to grow so rapidly they overpower everything with their bigness.
There’s a deep crease between my dad’s eyes as his mustache twitches.
“Explain this to me one more time, Nelly. I’m struggling here. I didn’t really fire you. I just wanted you to take the summer off—the summer!” he says, stunned.
“Dad, you know I love the bar, and you’ve always been good to me, so this isn’t anything personal. It’s just that when I was in Maine, I had the opportunity to teach someone how to run a bar better—just a glimpse of it—and I liked it. Loved it even. I thought maybe other bars would want to hire me to learn how to make what we have here. How to make drinks that are special to their target audiences. And nothing will ever be as fun as our place, but maybe I can show people how to make their own fun.” I take a long sip of water as he looks out at the horizon and shakes his head.
“So, you’re going to leave the Crow’s Nest and do this full-time?” He drags his hand down the side of his face.
“Yes. No. I don’t know!” I shake my head. “Maybe? Dad, I just want to try this. I love you and the people here, but sometimes it feels like someone else’s dream I was dropped in. I’ve never done anything like this on my own, and it just seems like this big thing I’ll always regret not trying.”
His eyes fill with panic. “But what about when I retire? Who runs it then? I only have one year left in me before—”
I bark out a laugh without letting him finish, and a fresh shot of conviction lights up my chest.
“Dad, you’ve been threatening to retire for five years! And I’m not waiting—I don’t want to—not because I don’t love you, but because it’s not what I want to wait for. I don’t want to run this restaurant for the rest of my life.”
My dad stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time, and I swear there’s something like pride in his eyes. He sags back in his seat with a resigned sigh.
I soften. “I just need to try this. I won’t leave you high and dry.” I reach over and squeeze his arm as excitement and fear dance together in the pit of my stomach.
“The summer was good to you, Nelly,” he says, studying me again as if he’s trying to confirm it’s really me sitting here.
“It was, Dad, it really was.” I swallow the lump that’s trying to form in my throat.
“Well, you can forget about adding any of those fancy fresh ingredients on the menu,” he says before taking a sip of his beer.
And then, like I didn’t just do one of the most difficult things of my life, I laugh.