16. June
JUNE
June: And why can’t we have this conversation over the phone?
The message remains unanswered, mocking me as I stare at my phone, face up on the passenger seat next to me.
It’s a beautiful day. The summer sun is finally with us, warming the sky and the smatterings of clouds that look good enough to sleep on. Considering the early hour—on a weekend, no less—the impulse to sack off my sister’s thinly veiled, smoke-and-mirrors act and go back to bed is tempting.
But I’m here now. I found a parking space without having to threaten a tourist with non-existent fines. The sun is shining. The sea is beautiful. And just a bit further down the way, the Bluebird bobs along the waves.
“You’re walking into a trap,” I mutter to myself as I finally gather the wherewithal to leave the sanctuary of the car.
At this hour, it’s only the seagulls that keep me company as I make my way down the dock. It makes it easier to pick out the voices before I even arrive.
I should have known.
I arrive at the Bluebird with my arms crossed, sunglasses on, hair twisting around my face, thanks to the stubborn Nantucket wind. Neighboring boats softly clink against wooden posts. Seagulls take off only to fly in circles around our heads, as if captivated by the soap opera.
She doesn’t notice me at first.
Meredith stands near the stern of the boat, pale sweater sleeves shoved to her elbows, one hand resting on the railing as if greeting an old friend.
The other rests on her forehead, shielding her eyes as she examines the horizon.
She shouts back her observations to an unseen Sophie.
She’s entirely shed the Bostonian persona she’d re-dressed herself in during the trial.
She looks like she’s spent every waking second of her life in Nantucket.
I stand there, watching her for another few seconds, before she twists around to call more effectively to our sister. “Have you checked the weather yet?—”
Our eyes meet for half a second, and something in my chest hiccups.
We haven’t really fixed anything. She told us everything. I heard it all. Intellectually, I know she did what she did out of fear, shame, and love. Emotionally, I still feel…well, wrecked. But I haven’t reached out to her.
Mostly because I’m not even sure what I want to say.
I’m sorry for believing the worst of you.
“Hey,” she says, soft and hesitant.
“Hey,” I reply.
She’s seen me at my lowest moments, in New York, in the hospital. But never have I felt so exposed to her discerning, dark eyes. Our father’s eyes. Never has she looked so unsure of herself, either.
And then Sophie bursts between us with a bundle of energy disproportionate to the moment or the hour. “June! You made it.”
I don’t break eye contact with Meredith as a reply. “I thought this was going to be an us thing.”
“It is an us thing,” she says brightly. Overly brightly. “It wouldn’t be us without Mer.”
I finally look at her and narrow my eyes. “Sophie.”
“Yes?” She flashes me her most innocent look. “Come on, it’s not like any of us couldn’t use a break. Trent’s barely talking to me, you’re…you, and Meredith met up with Eddie last night and won’t tell me anything.”
Meredith groans. “Sophie!”
“You spoke to Eddie?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Meredith’s mouth clamps shut as she looks somewhere past my shoulder. Then down at her feet. “Yeah.”
Sophie waves me on board. “Just get on the boat. Before I push you in.”
Stepping onto the Bluebird is like stepping back into a muscle memory I forgot I had. I know exactly where to place my feet. Where to brace. Where to reach. Everything smells of salt and sun-warmed varnish. Like childhood, really.
I haven’t been sailing since last year, but it’s incredible how quickly I pick everything back up. How quickly we all do.
Sophie takes the helm just as well as Mom did.
Meredith moves easily to help with the lines, checking the rigging and securing the cleats.
I hesitate for a second, then follow behind her, double-checking her work and working in parallel, in tandem.
We move like matching magnets circling each other, never quite colliding, yet never quite separate, either.
The boat gives that familiar thrill under my feet as the sails catch the wind, and we start slicing away from the harbor. Nantucket drifts behind us, the pier shrinking to nothing. Water stretches endlessly ahead, sunlight flashing in white shards across the waves.
It would be peaceful if I weren’t so hyperaware of every breath Meredith takes.
“So,” Sophie says loudly, steering us toward open water. “Isn’t this nice?”
“Sure,” I say. “Assuming your definition of ‘nice’ includes taking us as hostages into open water.”
“You got on this boat willingly,” she practically sings back.
Meredith lets out a breath that I think might be half a laugh. “She’s not wrong.”
“Pretenses, then,” I bite back, more for the sake of being controversial than anything else.
“I didn’t bring you out here to fight,” Sophie says, eyes sharpening at my tone.
“But you did bring us here to talk?” Meredith asks.
A frown forms on my brow. “You’re not in on this?”
She shakes her head, her half-smile pained and sheepish.
“I brought you out here to remember that we’re all sisters and because this whole situation is ridiculous.”
I roll my eyes because it’s easier than admitting my throat feels tight. “Sophie, we remember. Trust me. It’s physically impossible to forget any of you.”
Silence stretches for a moment, broken only by the wind humming against the sails and the rhythmic slap of water against the hull. Sophie lets out a sigh as she steers us into the wind, letting the sails catch and pull us in a new direction.
“So!” Sophie starts up again once we’re on a steadier path. “June, who’s working the Shack today?”
I scoff. “Trent didn’t tell you?”
It’s a petty response, one that earns me a glare from Meredith from across the boat.
Rolling my eyes, I turn back to our youngest sister, ignoring the guilt that churns at the sight of her pinched expression. “I only meant that he’s soloing today with Mia. Davon is out for the day, so he’s basically in charge.”
“He’s running the shift?” Meredith asks, clearly a little surprised.
“Well, yeah,” I offer as neutrally as I can. “He practically does it anyway. Whenever we’re even remotely overstaffed, Davon starts experimenting with the menu.”
“I had no idea he’d become so…”
I bite back a scathing response to her for visiting the Shack every once in a while instead of sending Sophie to pick up her paperwork. It’s not entirely fair, not with how she’s been looking after Mom.
It’s still tempting to point out, though.
“He’ll probably be running the place by the time he finishes high school,” Sophie pipes up, voice straining to cover up the melancholy.
Since it seems to be the day for spilling secrets, why don’t you share with the class, Sophie?
Whatever is going on between Trent and Sophie, it’s clearly not getting any better.
The lies Trent seems to think Sophie is telling him…
Surely, after everything we’ve been through as a family, it can’t be worth keeping anything else from each other?
If she’s playing some kind of game, though, she’s clearly keeping all her cards close to her chest.
And this boat ride is awkward enough.
“Speaking of Mia, she had something exciting to say the other day about Marlene…”
Sophie snatches at the conversational pivot, as if it were an olive branch, and soon we fall into a weird conversational ping-pong, desperately tossing “safe” topics back and forth. The weather. Tourists. How Roland is recovering. Whether the Shack needs a new coat of paint.
It works…up to a point.
The wind picks up a little. The Bluebird leans into it, water rushing faster along the sides, spray kicking up cool mist against our cheeks. The horizon stretches vast and shimmering.
If this were a therapy session, the therapist would gently say, “So, June, what are you really feeling?”
Thankfully, the Atlantic Ocean doesn’t have a license.
But Sophie does have a breaking point.
I see it happen like a light switching off behind her eyes. She watches us for a few minutes, the way Meredith and I talk through her instead of to each other. The perfect stiff politeness, the careful distance. And something in her just…gives.
“Here,” she says, too calmly, as she passes me the rope she’d been adjusting. “Hold this.”
I take it automatically. “Why?”
She steps out of her shoes. “Because if you guys won’t actually talk to each other like grown-ups, then I’m removing myself from the equation.”
“What does that mean?” I demand.
And then Sophie climbs onto the edge of the boat, gives us one last look, and jumps.
The splash is deafening.
For a second, Meredith and I just stare at the churning water where Sophie disappeared, our brains buffering. Then we both explode into motion.
“Life ring!” Meredith barks, already moving to the stern.
“I’ve got it!” I sprint, heart hammering, each beat punching fear into my ribs.
It’s ridiculous. She did this on purpose. She could practically swim before she could walk. Still, my hands shake when I yank the life ring free.
“Do you see her?” I shout.
“There!” Meredith leans dangerously far over the rail. “Sophie!”
Sophie’s head pops up from the glittering water like a smug blond mermaid. Her face belatedly twists into something like horror. “Oh! Oh, no! Help! Please help me!”
I thought she was supposed to be an actor?
“You absolute nightmare,” I mutter, but relief floods me like warm sunlight.
Next to me, Meredith lets out an ill-disguised snort.
We toss the ring. It splashes near her, and she kicks toward it, flailing her arms just enough to make my heart spike again before she grabs it. “Wow! You’re both such heroes! It would be such a wasted opportunity if you didn’t bond over this incredible experience!”
I take the rope and start dragging her back toward the boat, water sluicing off the ring in bright arcs. Sophie splutters dramatically.