49. Forty-nine
Finn spends the first weekend of September fishing and surprises Marin and me with a full spread of fish tacos and homemade Pico de Gallo for dinner.
“Finn. This is amazing. What’s this recipe?”
Every spicy and sweet flavor he used compliments the other perfectly.
“Derek sent it to me.”
“Derek?” I choke mid-swallow. “I didn’t know you kept in touch,” I pause. “How are they? Him? He?”
Marin laughs. “Mom, you’re so obvious. Why don’t you just call Ethan? People have long-distance relationships all the time. It’s not impossible. And July in Maine is a lot better than July in this hot inferno.”
I scoff. “That’s dramatic.” I turn to Finn. “Either way, it’s great. Tell Derek it’s a winner.”
How’s Ethan?The question sits in my mouth until it dissolves.
I change the subject. “My first consulting gig is tomorrow. I’m helping a bar down near Key West revamp their drink menu.”
“That’s awesome. How does it work? Are you trucking the entire farmers market with you?” Marin teases before she takes her last bite of taco.
“Funny,” I say, shooting her a look. “No. He sent me his menu already. I made notes and have some ideas on what would work.” I shrug. “And I’m going to take it down there and pretend I know what I’m doing.”
I laugh nervously.
“You know what you’re doing,” Finn says. It’s a compliment. One that warms me from the inside out.
***
The next night, lying in bed, I’m riding a high I can’t come down from. My first consult went so perfectly I had to pinch myself multiple times to make sure it was real.
The owner loved my ideas.
“I’ve never thought of cocktail flavors like that before. It’s brilliant really!” he said after I suggested we complement the flavors of his food menu rather than focus on the cliché island staples like frozen daiquiris.
I showed the bartenders a couple of ways to make staple drinks using a couple of mangos, pineapples, and limes.
“If consulting doesn’t work out, you’re hired,” he told me with a smile when we finished for the day.
I laughed in response. “My dad would never let that happen.”
I can’t stop smiling as I stare at the dark ceiling.
I did it. I’m doing it.
And then—Ethan. He’s attached to every exciting part of this like a shadow. Without him, I wouldn’t have known I could take this big scary leap.
I roll over and grab my phone off my nightstand.
Me:Hi.
Ethan:Hi.
I swallow hard before responding.
Me: Apples are in season.
Ethan: They are.
I miss you.
Delete.
What are you doing?
Delete.
Can I call you?
Delete.
Me: Are you heading back to Bethel?
Ethan:Tomorrow.
Me: Don’t forget to feed the birds.
Ethan: And to think you didn’t want to play my game.
Of all the things I want to say next, the only one that makes sense is nothing.