Chapter 9
Grabbing a towel off the hook, I barely hiss when I pat the tender, sore skin surrounding the waterproof bandage on my arm. They said the bite didn’t penetrate the bone, but I’m not sure what difference it would make. What’s one more thing? Grief is bone deep anyway.
I slip on sweatpants, awkwardly pulling a tank top over my head and trudge down the stairs, unlatching Tides’s gate. Every toy car of Lucas is scattered on the floor of the entry that floods into the living room where I find him and Riley sitting on the floor in front of the couch. Both of their heads are tipped to the left as they watch the same scene from Black Panther.
Lucas looks at me first. “Hi, Mommy,” he says casually, like it’s any normal day and not one when he nearly became a chew toy.
He focuses back on the TV, reaching for a cup on the coffee table. I keep staring at the back of his head, at the cowlick he seemed to be born with. I don’t want to stop looking at him, watching how his small shoulders rise and fall with each breath he takes.
“He said he was starving.” Riley rises from the floor and follows me into the kitchen. “Pizza came when you were in the shower.”
I lift the lid, but I have no appetite and shut it, moving to the fridge.
“Thanks,” I tell Riley as I eye the wine, but reach for a soda instead. When I turn around, he’s brought the pizza box to the table, along with plates. I open the fridge again, pulling out a beer.
“Water’s good,” he says.
We sit at the table and Riley lifts a piece of pizza to my plate. My face must paint the picture of my lack of appetite.
“You’re on some pretty hardcore meds,” he reminds me. “You need to eat something.”
I force myself to fold the pizza, bringing it to my lips even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
Lucas giggles from the living room, and I turn my head at the sweet sound. “Mom,” he calls out, “Tides ate my crust!”
Tides saunters into the kitchen licking his mouth clean. On any other day, I’d scold the dog and remind him that pizza crust was one of the worst things dogs could eat. I learned that from Nate. Too much sugar , Nate would say before thinking he was slick enough to hand him a piece under the table unnoticed.
But today I rip the crust off my own slice and toss it to Tides.
“You deserve it.”
Pushing my plate away, I wipe my hands with a napkin and rub his head while he inhales the food. Unable to help myself, I drag my fingers through the fur on his back. It’s foreign, this sense of love and appreciation I have for this dog who didn’t just save Lucas, but makes a difference to him every day in such an unsettling period of our lives.
I pick a loose piece of Tides’s hair from my sweatpants and when I look up, Riley is staring at my arm so intently, he doesn’t even notice I’m looking at him until I touch the edge of the bandage.
Immediately our eyes lock, but Riley quickly turns away .
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, no longer able to take the tension filling the kitchen. “About the other night—"
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
“But I am, really.” I focus on the chair that normally would be Nate’s. “He’d be upset with me for treating you that way.”
Like any marriage, Nate and I had our ups and downs. There were arguments about finances, about what school Lucas should go to. These kinds of issues came and went with the season like growing pains. But the contention that remained consistent between us never had to do with plans for retirement or public versus private school.
The thing we never agreed on from beginning until end was Riley.
He fidgets in his chair. A piece of dark hair slips forward, but Riley doesn’t swat it back. He uses it, I imagine, as a boundary between him and the wife of his best friend who never understood why her husband had such a soft spot for a grown man infected with Peter Pan syndrome. Riley was responsible for only himself. He showed up when it benefited him.
But when Lucas's laugh echoes again from the living room, I’m reminded that Riley showed up today when Nate couldn’t. He showed up even though I didn’t ask.
I clear my throat, anticipating the shake in my voice before I even speak. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”
Through the fringe of the dark hair shading Riley’s face, I watch him squeeze his eyes shut. His whole body winces, like my words are darts that pierce him and burrow within, irritating an invisible wound no one understands.
Except me. This is the kind of hurt I know—bone deep.
“I want you to believe me. I don’t blame you. If Nate could’ve got out of that car and come home to me, he would have. It wasn’t your fault.”
Riley’s eyes open and remain focused down and I follow the trail of his gaze where I find my hand resting on his good one on top of his knee. It’s an effort to show comfort that came so easily I didn’t even realize it happened.
In a way, this is a white flag. But I’m merely holding it out and wondering if Riley will wave it with me.
There’s a softening in his body I feel beneath my fingertips as Riley’s muscles loosen more after a deep breath. I press my lips together fighting disappointment it’s probably not fair for me to feel when Riley lifts his hand and mine slips from his.
But I’m flooded with relief, an emotion I’m not prepared to handle when he sandwiches my hand between his leg and palm.
“Thank you for coming today.”
My words are punctuated by small cries. I’m grateful. I’m heartbroken. I cry because I’m so happy I’m finally not alone. Even though I’ve been surrounded by people, none of them have felt like the right one. But Riley in this kitchen, at home with us where Nate can’t be, it’s the thing that allows me to finally take a breath.
When Riley raises his head, the curtain of his thick hair clears to the side. His green eyes find the bandage covering my wound.
“He’d kill me if he knew I left you alone in a hospital.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat.
“Is there dessert?”
We both jump when Lucas comes sprinting into the kitchen.
I stand, keeping my face out of Lucas's sight so I can blink away the tears and wipe the few that have escaped with a napkin.
“Yes. Absolutely."
This is a yes day. Yes to pizza, yes to eating in the living room in front of the TV instead of at the kitchen table, yes to ice cream with extra sprinkles.
Lucas whooshes past me to Riley, sliding onto his lap. Riley shifts beneath him, his good arm wrapping Lucas's middle covered by Spiderman pajamas.
“Are you coming home now?” Lucas softly asks.
I still, the pads of my fingers tingling from the freezer burn invading the carton of chocolate ice cream. Watching carefully, I see Riley’s Adam’s apple bob before he answers, but he looks over Lucas and at me and I swear I feel him begging the same thing from me that I am of him.
Please, can I?
Please, will you?
“Yeah.” He gives me a gentle nod before ruffling Lucas's hair. “I’m back.”
Lucas sighs, his voice quieting. “I thought you were gone forever like Dad. I don’t like thinking about everyone leaving me forever.”
The way Riley’s head falls again is soul crushing. I’m thankful Lucas can’t see how his innocent candidness can break a grown man.
“I won’t go anywhere again,” Riley promises.
This time, even I believe him.
Lucas beams. “Now you can come to school for career day.”
“Career day?” Riley asks, looking at me questioningly
I open the carton of ice cream. “Riley might be busy,” I tell him. “And I told Ms. Wilks I would—”
“Mom.” Lucas places his good hand to his head dramatically. “Yoga isn’t cool .”
“I think yoga is cool,” Riley says even though I know he doesn’t. “Stretching is…important.”
“Important,” Lucas tries the word before shaking his head. “But not cool . Being a police officer is cool.”
My eyes find Riley’s and the stillness in his body tells me he’s holding his breath like I am. The only sound before Lucas speaks again is the sound of him flicking the velcro strap of Riley’s splint.
“Surfing is cool too.”
Riley looks at me. I can tell he’s waiting for permission.
“Alright. If Riley can go—”
“Yes,” Riley cuts me off. “I’ll be there.”
I nearly trip over Tides as I step to the side, reaching into the cabinet for three bowls before I decide to add another plastic one to the mix, filling it with a hefty scoop before I lower it to the ground. Tides stares at it, lifting his face to mine and waiting for my silent okay.
Tides can have pizza and ice cream.
Riley can come home and show up for Lucas at his school’s career day.
It’s a yes day.
My eyes fly open when the door shuts. Lucas's warm body is snuggled against me, his wrapped wrist resting across my middle.
I jump when Tides does, right onto the end of the couch, careful to not step on my feet I know he wants me to move. I scoot up, grimacing from the burning in my arm. My head is fuzzy and achy.
“Sorry,” Riley whispers. “I tried not to wake you. Took him for a walk.”
The clock reads just after eleven. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Since Killmonger walked to the throne.” Riley goes into the kitchen to hang up Tides’s leash and returns as I slide out from beneath Lucas, replacing my body with a pillow for him to rest his injured arm on.
I stand but start to sway.
Before I know it, Riley is at my side, gently pushing me back down so I sit beside the sectional. He sighs, seeming annoyed. “I told you, you need to eat.”
“I just got up too fast.” I look to Tides who has occupied my previous spot. The sight of him curled up with Lucas is sweet enough to continue to ignore the rule of no dogs on the furniture .
“Do you want a sandwich? You need to eat.”
I shake my head. “I’ll eat in the morning. I think I need sleep first. Almost as much as this guy.” I reach across, smoothing Lucas's hair back. My hand lingers against his head and I frown at his deep breathing, a tell of his serious exhaustion. Tides lifts one eye open but shuts it quickly.
“Both of them.” Riley laughs lightly before he moves to pick up Lucas. “Let me take him up.”
“No.” I motion at his cast. “You’re still hurt.”
“I have one good arm.”
“Well, try to keep it working. Leave him. Just hand me that.”
I accept the blanket Riley removes from the back of the club chair beside the bay window. When I drape it over Lucas, he stirs so slightly and even though Tides doesn’t sit up, he shimmies further up the couch where it’s probably still warm from my body. Lucas drags his arm down from the pillow, now resting it on Tides.
“Do…do you believe in reincarnation?” I ask.
“Reincarnation?”
I turn to face him. “Yeah, like when you come back—”
“I know what reincarnation is.”
Pressing my lips together, I look back at Tides and Lucas. “But do you believe in it?”
“Are you asking me if Nate came back as a dog?” Riley comes and stands beside me. He’s close enough that his cast scratches at the bare skin of my uninjured forearm.
“Yeah, I guess it’s crazy,” I decide. “And Tides has been here for years.”
“I think that dog has been an extension of Nate since the day he brought him home.”
My mouth parts and I push back the trembling of my lips to swallow down air.
“So yeah,” Riley continues, “Maybe, in some ways, he never really left.”
I’m met with flashbacks of earlier today, of Tides pushing Lucas out of the way and putting himself in danger to keep him safe like it was the most natural, instinctive thing in the world. Like it’s something a parent would do.
My chest starts to tighten. “I need…I think I need a little air.”
The front door is closest, so I partially stumble toward it and grab the handle as my chest constricts more. As soon as I’m outside, I sink onto the front step, bringing my head between my knees.
“Harper?”
Riley’s feet shuffle behind me.
“Harper?”
Even though the stretching of the muscles hurts, I fold my arms, lifting my head and resting my cheek on them so I face Riley as he sits down next to me.
“He hardly smiles,” I begin, taking a shaky breath. “Not like before…. I get it, you know, his dad died.”
Riley’s shoulders slump.
“Everyone says how resilient kids are and…I can’t focus on anything when he’s just so sad and the only times he laughs or smiles is with Tides or…when you showed up.”
Riley rubs his hand over his face.
I straighten, dropping my arms. “I don’t really know what’s the right thing to do here. But I want to do whatever I can to help him feel normal. And Riley, you’re part of that normal.” Shutting my eyes, I feel the tears begin to sting. “I’ll do anything to keep it that way. And I guess what I’m asking from you right now is to help me with that.”
“I shouldn’t have left,” Riley whispers.
“I don’t even care anymore. If you’re planning to come back,” I whisper. “I need you to stay . And maybe it’s a lot of me to ask right now. Because maybe you got a place or—”
“I was sleeping at work.”
While The Surf Shack might be one of Oceanside’s local, hidden gems, successful in its own right, the square footage would hardly be enough for Lucas to live in .
“Caroline and Finn forced me out, but the futon wasn’t so bad.”
“You just had surgery,” I remind him
Riley lifts his cast. “On my finger .”
“Well…if you’d rather sleep on a futon Finn has probably had for a decade—”
“Two,” Riley says. “Since high school.”
My mouth twists as I attempt to block out the thoughts of what—and whom—that futon has probably seen.
“I want to be here for Lucas”—Riley pauses—“And for you. I wasn’t planning to come back just to be your tenant,” he continues, nudging my shoulder. The playful motion between us is foreign, something new.
But what it also is, is nice .
“Tenants pay rent.” I wipe my eyes. If Riley can make the effort to be light, so can I.
He waves his hand. “Semantics.”
I laugh lightly and take a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can do it alone. I don’t want to do it alone,” I admit, the honesty fueled by how raw my world is.
“You won’t have to.” Riley clears his throat. “I promise.”
There’s a certainty in the tone of his voice that sounds an awful lot like a promise. And maybe I should press Riley on that, to remind him what promises mean to children. They mean so much that when they’re broken, there’s no way to make up for it, no apology to make it better. Sorry becomes just a meaningless word.
But there’s something inside of me telling me Riley knows that already.
Riley sighs, staring off into the dark, front yard. “I know we aren’t”—Riley pauses, clearly contemplating his words—“ friends . But we can be partners. For Lucas, we can. For Nate, we can.”
I look down at my lap. Riley is right. We aren’t friends. Maybe we’re the furthest thing from it. And with Nate gone, the obvious tether between us no longer exists.
But Riley coming today reminded me there’s one other string tying us together. And as much as I find Riley showing up to the hospital admirable, Lucas needs more—more of Riley’s time and attention, more of his presence. I can’t have him disappear. I can’t have Lucas lose one more person in his life.
“Swear,” I say. “Swear on Nate, you’ll stick around.”
“I told you—”
“I need more than just telling, Riley.”
Riley turns, his knees now pressing into my leg. “I swear.” His voice dips lower before he continues, “We do it together or we don’t do it at all.”
It is a yes day after all.
“Yes.” I nod. “We’ll do it together.”
“Promise me one thing,” Riley says.
I asked him to swear, so it’s only fair he has a request for me.
“You’re not going to move. Not to North Carolina or anywhere. Not now.”
I take a deep breath. “I can’t. I can’t leave here, even if I wanted to.”
Because here is where Nate is.
“I promise,” I tell him.
Our eyes meet and I see through the scruff of Riley’s beard that his lips tighten into a grin.
“I never thought we’d be here again.” This time the tears in my eyes are drawn from laughter.
Riley chuckles. “Me either.”
We should be breaking out in hysterics. It’s so sad and tragic that it has to be funny. Because after everything, what I’m asking is for Riley—my late husband’s best friend, the man I’ve struggled to understand, let alone tolerate—to coparent Lucas with me until we make it through.
“We’ve done it before.”
When Riley stands, the loss of his warm legs pressed into mine more than noticeable. And I wonder, if after today, him fleeing another time will be just as palpable—as hurtful—for me for me as it would be for Lucas.
I look at the hand he holds out, offering to pull me to my feet. I take it, without inhaling a deep breath, without an ounce of hesitation. And his skin infects me with a warm flush that thaws the icy loneliness grief has filled me with. I decide that yes. I’d be bothered by him gone.
“We can do it again.”