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6

Leah

“No, Grandpa, I ditched the old motor.” The phone was balanced precariously between my shoulder and ear as I scrubbed at a stubborn patch of algae accumulating on the edge of my deck. “I told you, I replaced it last week.”

The scent of brine and diesel wafted in the air and I went about my morning routine of refreshing my grandfather’s memory and keeping poor Myrtle afloat.

“You replaced it?” My grandfather’s voice crackled through the speaker, nonplussed like I hadn’t already informed him of the engine swap three times over. “What did you do, duct tape a new one together?”

I rolled my eyes, scrubbing at the deck. “No, I actually paid a professional this time. I’m not that frugal with my money, you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he chuckled. “When are you going to buy yourself some new boots? They were falling apart at the seams before you even left San Francisco.”

“New shoes,” I huffed, ditching the scrubbing brush and attacking the algae patch with my nails, “are not necessary. I’ll get a new pair when these fall off my feet.”

His response was a dubiousHmmfollowed by a distinct crackle as he unwrapped what had to be his tenth peppermint of the day. “You’re so much like your mother was at your age,” he murmured around a mouthful of hard candy.

I stiffened, nails raking across the grain of the deck. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

“She loved you, Leah.” My grandfather’s tone was gentle, edged with that bittersweet melancholy he always slipped into when reminiscing about his only daughter. “You know she did.”

I sat back on my heels, abandoning my futile attempt at cleaning. “Sheleftme. And I just… I don’t get it.” Wounds both old and new ripened my bitter words. “Why wasn’t I enough for her? For anyone?”

“Leah,” he murmured, benign but firm. “It wasn’t about you. Jocelyn loved you more than anything. That’s why she sent you to me. She knew she couldn’t give you the life you deserved, not with everything she was going through.”

“She could’ve tried.” I picked at my blunted nails, my voice fracturing.

“She did. She did try. But addiction isn’t something you can justwillyourself out of. And your father… he didn’t make it any easier for her.”

I closed my eyes, the image of my mother’s face flickering in my memory. We had the same sloped nose and the same smattering of freckles. In a few years, our frown lines would be nearly identical.

I hadn’t seen her since I was six years old, but I could still vividly recall her gentle hands unraveling the knots in my hair, her voice wafting from the kitchen in the mornings, rousing me with an uneven, merry tune. I remembered the darker daystoo, when my father would shout and yell and stomp about the house. When Jocelyn would turn to those powdery pills that transformed her into a stranger, a vacant shell of her former self.

I dashed an algae-stained sleeve across my face, disrupting the film reel of my disjointed childhood playing behind my eyes.

“She thought she was protecting you,” my grandfather continued. “When she couldn’t beat her addiction or dislodge herself from your father removing herself from your life was a final act of love. It was her way of giving you a chance. A better chance than she had.”

I sniffed, wiping at my nose with the back of my hand. “Maybe. But it still hurts.”

“Of course it does, sweetheart,” he said softly. “But you’re not alone in the world. You’ve got me, and you’ve got people who care about you.”

Who – Maxine?I thought bitterly, though the thought twisted uncomfortably in my chest. She hadn’t contacted me again since our spat at the aquarium.

I had her number saved since the first time she’d called but I hadn’t yet worked up the courage to pick up the phone. I was… what, exactly? Ashamed of my outburst. Guilty for laying into her when she’d braved the aquarium just to see me. And angry – still angry, that was certain.

“Sheleft too,” I said before I could stop myself, attacking the algae with renewed vigor.

“Who?”

“Maxine.” I sighed, adjusting my cell on my shoulder and ignoring the ache in my neck. “Remember her? I ran into her the other day, here in New York.”

“Oh, that little lass?” The affection in his tone only stoked the anger in my chest and I bit my tongue as my grandfather prattled on. “She was lovely! Always so polite. I remember when the two of you would –”

“She left too.” I interrupted him and winced at the bite in my tone. “Sorry – it’s just… One day she was my best friend, and the next, she was gone. No explanation, no goodbye.” I stared down at my hands, dirt-lined and quivering. “It’s always the same. It’s alwaysme. I chase people away.”

Grandpa was quiet for a moment. “It’s not you, Leah. Maybe she had her reasons too. Reasons you don’t know yet.”

I didn’t respond, the words settling heavily in my chest.