Lexi
Lexi
A string quartet is playing their own version of Taylor Swift’s “Sweet Nothing.” There are white balloons hanging from the rafters, interspersed with bright blue ones—the color reminds me of a summer sky. And there are giant pictures of me and Zeke hanging like tapestries from the walls.
“So it’s not been a totally seamless transition from memorial to welcome home party,” Zeke’s sister says briskly, casting an eye over the main event space of Lemmington Hall. “And some of these lilies were repurposed from the funeral wreaths we couldn’t get a refund on. But I think it’s worked out pretty well, considering.”
“Looks great to me. I like a lily. Where’s Jeremy gone?” I ask.
“He’s talking to Paige,” Lyra says.
She widens her eyes in a way that manages to capture both the gravity of the situation and her vague dislike of Paige. She’s jealous, perhaps. Jeremy has a new aunt—a whole new family, should he want it. Lyra strikes me as a woman who likes things neat, tidy and just so; rogue aunts aren’t really her scene, particularly slightly scatty ones with houseboats. I happen to know that right now Lyra and Jeremy aren’t speaking to their mum; Zeke calls her every day, though, and between them all, with time, I’m confident they’ll figure it out. Family is always complicated, but ultimately, the Ravenhills do love one another, and lately I’ve started to think that as long as you’ve got that, you have a really good shot at working out the rest.
A harassed-looking event organizer power-walks over with her clipboard clutched to her chest like a shield. Lyra homes in on her immediately.
“Cutlery!” she barks, and the woman jumps.
“Christ,” Marissa says, appearing at my shoulder as Lyra drags the event organizer off somewhere. “And I thought you were intimidating.”
“You should have seen her directing Penny to parallel park in the space outside when we arrived. Penny literally cried. Still”—I watch Lyra go—“I think this is Lyra’s way of telling Zeke she missed him. All the funereal flowers, the perfect tablecloths, the expense…it’s a big, dysfunctional I-love-you.”
“Is he here?” Marissa asks, glancing to the door.
I don’t need to look to know he isn’t. We’ve both noticed this: a sort of instinct for where the other person is in a crowded room.
“He’s nervous,” I say, checking my phone again. “He went to take a moment in the garden.”
“You want to…”
“Yeah,” I say, already moving.
Zeke and I have both noticed this as well: the tug that comes when we’re apart, as if whatever tethers us is pulling taut. Since we joined hands again in that studio lot, we’ve barely parted. He’s cooked me truffle pasta and spiced jackfruit and every dish he used to talk about on the water, and I’ve shown him the little details of my life as it was before him: the best coffee shop in Gilmouth; my favorite spot on the beach. It’s been almost deliriously lovely, but not—as suspected—without complication.
Penny is struggling. It’s hard to untangle what she wants from all her guilt and shame and people-pleasing, to be honest, but she says she’s ready for today, and I am trying to take her word for things instead of thinking I know best. Marissa’s right: I do coddle her, and ultimately, that hasn’t helped her at all.
I step out into the formal gardens and find Zeke immediately: he’s in suit trousers and a silk shirt, hands in his pockets, staring down into the pond at the center of the garden. His curls are neater than they ever were on the boat, and the clothes are new to me, but the line of his neck is so familiar it could be my own. I know that the tilt of his head means he’s thinking; I know that the hands in his pockets will be balled into nervous fists.
“Hey,” I whisper, coming up behind him.
“Hey.”
“OK?”
“Mm. Will be soon.”
“She’s going to love you,” I say quietly, coming to stand beside him at the water’s edge. “Even if she doesn’t right away.”
“I don’t want to mess her up,” he whispers.
“You think I’d let you anywhere near that girl if I thought you would?” I turn to kiss him on the cheek. “Trust me, even if you can’t trust yourself yet.”
“Hey, you two,” comes a shaky voice from behind us.
We turn in unison. Mae is on Penny’s hip, her special-occasion butterfly sandals tapping against Penny’s leg as they approach. Mae’s eyes turn wide and curious as they land on Zeke.
“Hi,” Zeke says, then clears his throat. “Hello.”
I keep hold of his hand. I can feel him trembling.
“Are you Lexi’s boyfriend?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “That’s me.”
She inspects him closely. “OK,” she says. “That’s fine.”
Penny manages a smile. “A glowing review, by Mae standards,” she says, lowering her daughter to the ground.
For now, this is what we’ve decided to tell Mae; the rest can come later, when everyone feels a little readier. But even this feels pretty huge.
“You have curly hair,” Mae says, staring up at Zeke. “Like me.”
I feel the collective intake of breath—me, Penny, Zeke, all at once. I’m sure Mae feels it, too, and I smile to soften the atmosphere, taking her hand.
“Curly hair is the best,” I tell her. “I wish mine was curly. You want to try skimming stones? Zeke’s really good at it.”
He takes my cue, dropping my hand as he crouches down beside her and sifts through the gravel of the path leading to the pond, looking for a flat-enough stone.
“This one’s perfect,” he says, voice catching slightly as he glances at Mae’s profile. “You need one just the right size. Here, do you want to try first?”
I look at Penny. She’s watching Zeke and Mae, her face tight and frightened. I feel the knot of anger I’ve carried this week beginning to loosen, and I reach toward her.
She takes my hand and holds tightly. “I’m sorry,” she mouths at me, and I smile at her.
I might not be completely there with forgiving her, but I do understand why she lied. I know she just wanted to protect herself, and protect Mae, and that self-protection is big for Penny. I know these things are never as simple as they seem.
“I love you,” I whisper to her, and Zeke and Mae glance up.
I could be talking to any one of them, really. I love them all, and lately, since we got home, I’ve had an almost compulsive need to say these things out loud. I wonder how long this feeling will last—knowing how lucky I am, and actually feeling it, instead of just moving through the days without noticing. I hope I can hold on to it forever.
“Are you the one who sailed away with Lexi?” Mae asks Zeke.
“Yeah, that’s me.” He skims a stone over the water—it bounces once, twice, three times.
She thinks about this. “Next time,” she says, “can you call us to say you’re going?”
Penny bursts out in surprised laughter.
Zeke grins. “OK. That’s fair.” He sobers, looking at her properly now, holding out a stone for her to take. “In future,” he says, “I promise we’ll always tell you what’s going on.”
She nods at this, then hurls her stone into the water. It lands with a satisfying slup of pond water, and the ripples spread outward, reaching for us, steady and sure.
“This is a welcome home party,” Mae says, taking the next stone Zeke offers her and hurling it after the last one. “But this isn’t your home. Is it? Do you live in Gilmouth like Mummy and Lexi?”
Zeke glances at me. We’ve touched on this a little, but we’ve not discussed what to say to Mae about it, and I feel Penny stiffen.
“I think home isn’t really a place for me,” he says. “It’s people. My people. So I want to be where they are, because then I’m at home.”
Mae thinks. “OK. So is Lexi your people?”
“One of them,” he says, with a small smile. “Yeah.”
“She’s mine, too. Her and Mummy and Ryan.”
“I know,” Zeke says. “That’s exactly why I really wanted to bring her back to you.”
There’s so much emotion in his face when he looks at me. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying.
“I get it,” Mae says, with a nod. “What it means. Welcome home.” She points to me. “It means you brought home back.”
I can’t hold it in any longer. I bend to hug her against me, and she leans her head into me with the childlike trust that’s always floored me, even when she was the tiniest bundle falling asleep on my chest.
I’ve seen the wilderness; I’ve seen an endless sea in a gathering storm; I’ve nearly died, and I’ve watched the man I love come close to death, too. But there is no emotion out there as big as the love I have for this little person in my arms. That love—it’s what got me home.