Page 11

Seven

Huck

“Excited for today?” I asked Ted while I poured myself a coffee.

Ted looked up from his breakfast of toast with an offensive amount of butter. “Absolutely,” he said. “Being able to scuba dive between two continents is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

“Sounds like a freezing experience.” Ted left the informational website for the diving tour of the Silfra fissure open for me to look over last night, and while it had the makings of what seemed like a very cool adventure, according to the year-round water temperatures of two to four degrees Celsius, I wasn’t feeling too sad that I didn’t have a diving certification and was unable to take part.

“Worth it,” he said. “Kind of like the time we hid in the walk-in after formal dinner so we could get all the ice cream for that epic winter blowout sophomore year?”

I thought back to that party. Like all of Ted’s extravaganzas, it had been a night to remember, all the way from the sub-zero status of my nuts to the make-your-own-make-out-sundae game Ted had kicked off that culminated in me getting my very first girlfriend. I smiled in spite of myself.

“That was a good one. But I can’t scuba, so I’m still out.”

“You know, they do have snorkeling. You could still join if you want.”

I shook my head. I planned to stay behind at the cabin, resolved to actually get some words in today. While we didn’t find anything on our search the other night, I enjoyed the story I’d started. Mulling it over with my morning coffee, it felt promising.

“It’s fine,” I said. “This is supposed to be a working trip for me anyway. And writing is kind of a solo endeavor.”

“So you’re okay, then.” It was part statement, part rhetorical, part loaded question. One that I didn’t really want to delve into. He eyed me while he took a loud sip. Ted had always been good at this sort of thing, getting under your skin in such a way that something seemed like your own decision.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Really? Because, holy shit, man. That was a lot. Losing a parent and a fiancée in the span of a few months and having your book tank—”

“Yeah, wasn’t fantastic for a while, but I’m getting there.”

“I mean, I know your relationship with your dad was not the best, but still.”

Ted was putting it lightly out of kindness.

He knew what my dad was really like and the kind of impact he’d had on me.

My relationship with my father reminded me of brittle metal, forged in the flame of his rage, unbending in his constant disappointment in me, his words predictably sharp, efficiently cutting me down to the very last moment, but so fragile.

It shattered with one blow a few winters back. Ted knew that too.

“I’ve moved on from the past,” I said.

“Really? I’m stoked to hear that you’re writing, but I look around and it kind of seems like you’re wallowing. Why are you staying in this tiny little hut? The roof’s not even big enough for both of us to sit on and relive our glory days.”

“I’m not wallowing. Jim booked it. Anyway, I really am doing better. People say it gets easier with time.”

“Is that what they say,” Ted quipped.

“So I’ve heard.” Too many times to count.

But that was what humans did when someone was struggling, I supposed—they went for the tested comments that are so safe and repeated and vague that they are as meaningless as they are innocuous.

Time heals all wounds. Something better is waiting for you. It’s for the best.

“Hmm. Is it true, this thing they say?”

“Well, it’s been a while and I haven’t cried in months, so maybe they’re onto something?

” This was a lie. I’d cried two days earlier, when I’d tried all day to write something, anything, and failed, then went out to buy myself a sweet treat only to get back to the cabin and realize that I’d purchased licorice-flavored chocolate.

I blamed the jet lag. It was not the jet lag. I’d been broken by licorice flavoring.

Ted seemed to see through my cover. I don’t know why I thought I could fool him. “I still think you should come and get some adrenaline flowing through your rusty circuits, but I get it. You have better things to do, like stare at that screen all day.”

“Actually, I stare out the window that’s on the other side of the screen. Occasionally I type a few words before deciding that they’re bad and deleting them.”

“Sounds productive.”

I rotated to face Stella, who was dressed in a sweater that was the exact shade of blue of a perfect day and grinning as she poured a cup of coffee. My face heated a bit at her presence.

“And that is what makes you a genius, I suppose. If you need any ideas, you’ll have to wait to hit me up when we get back. Meet you at the van, Stell,” Ted said. He snagged his coat from the hall tree and headed out the door.

Stella sipped her coffee. “Are you really planning to write today?”

I nodded. “I have to do something to pass the time until you get back.” Maybe it was a bold thing for me to assume that they’d stay here, but fuck it, I wanted to see as much of her as possible, and what better way to do that than for her and Ted to stay with me instead of their cramped camper van?

Her eyes twinkled as she eyed me over her mug. “Are you sure that’s not an imposition?”

“I mean, Ted’s already made himself comfortable in my robe and my bed.”

“Good point.” She laughed.

“Besides, I’ve been enjoying getting to know you. I was hoping that we could spend more time together.”

“I like the sound of that.”