Page 19 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs

I spent my sixth birthday throwing up.

No one was sure which cousin brought the stomach bug to the beach, but none of us escaped it.

At first, our parents, many of them sick themselves, tried to keep us quarantined.

But soon enough, they realized it was pointless.

If we had to be sick on family vacation, we might as well all be sick together.

Rebekah and I were spread out on opposite sides of the couch while Sutton was curled up in the love seat with the remote control. Elle sat on a beach towel on the floor, an empty bowl in her lap as a precaution.

“Can I get you girls any ginger ale? Or maybe some crackers?” my mom asked.

“Ugh.” Elle groaned and leaned over her bowl.

“Or maybe we’ll stick with water.” She walked back toward the kitchen area. “I want to make sure everyone stays hydrated.”

Rebekah adjusted the blanket we were sharing. “Go back, Sutton. I like that show.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for Elle.” Sutton kept flipping channels.

“It’s a cartoon.”

“Not all cartoons are okay for all ages.” Obviously, Sutton was feeling a little more like herself.

“I’m not a baby.” Elle’s voice echoed in the bowl. I was too tired to give my opinion.

Luckily, Grandmama chose that moment to open the beach house door, and everyone’s mood instantly brightened.

“Just came to check on my best girls,” she whispered sweetly. “And to bring this by.” She pulled a movie from her faded leather purse.

“I’ve never heard of that one.” Rebekah sat up and reached for the case. None of us had.

But when Grandmama pressed play, we were all enraptured by the story of a young girl learning to sing in the mansion of a mysterious stranger.

By the next day, we’d watched it so many times we had the songs memorized; and the day after that, we knew the lines as well. In fact, this would become one of our favorite films of all time, the premise of a dozen plays, and the inspiration for a whole new set of inside jokes and quotes.

Being stuck inside with a virus was not the present I’d have ever asked for on my birthday, but as many things do, it turned out to be a gift nonetheless.

“Tell your cousins hi for me and that I’m sorry I missed them. And I’m serious about you guys taking a road trip to Virginia. Anytime, okay?” He releases me from the warmest hug, and I feel teary all over again.

“Thanks, Gavin. I’m really glad I got to see you.”

“Right back at you.” He turns to Jude. “And you. Take care of yourself, little brother.” They clasp hands, and Gavin shakes his head and pulls Jude in for a giant hug too. “Be good.”

We watch him walk down to his truck and wave as he drives away. My fingers find the silver sand dollar. I thought about finally taking it off last night in some kind of symbolic gesture. But I’m not quite ready; it’s too much a part of me now.

“Well?” Jude asks gently as we walk back inside while I dab the corners of my eyes with the back of my hand. “What do you want to do now?”

“Honestly?” I wait for his full attention. “I want to kick your butt in some more Mario Kart.”

His concern melts away. “Well, since that’s not gonna happen, would you settle for me kicking your butt instead?”

“You wish.” I plop down on the floor and watch him set up the game.

“Here.” He unravels the controllers and hands one to me, but I set it down when he comes to sit next to me.

The words almost catch in my throat. “What happened, Jude?”

“Hmm?”

“Six years ago.” His brown eyes find mine, and he doesn’t look away, so I keep talking. “Why did you guys disappear?”

He sets his controller aside too. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s cool.” He shrugs. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I just . . . care.”

He takes his glasses off, wipes them on the hem of his shirt, and slides them back over his nose.

I admire the way he always seems to be able to stop and order his thoughts before sharing them aloud, whereas there are times I’m not even sure what I’m feeling until I hear myself work it out verbally.

“After you guys left that summer, Kelsey called my dad to tell him she was pregnant. And that she’d decided to get married and was staying in Wilmington.

She asked him if he’d bring some of her stuff.

I’d never seen my dad come so unglued. He rented a trailer, made me and Gavin go with him to help him convince her to come home.

” His lashes flutter shut for the briefest moment.

“She didn’t, obviously. We came home in August, and Gavin went back to college.

I think I knew at the time he was leaving for good too.

So it was just Dad and me for a few months.

We’d never really been close, and somehow the two of us in bedrooms next to each other in this big house felt suffocating.

He took a new job that involved a lot of moving around and gave me two choices: come with him and finish high school remotely or stay with a friend until graduation.

I couldn’t stand the thought of no one being here.

Or the possibility that my dad might sell the house if no one was using it.

And honestly, I knew my dad didn’t want me to come. ”

I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be around Jude, and I almost say that, but instead I ask, “So, you stayed with a friend here for years ?”

“Tyler, actually. His parents were so unbelievably kind to me. They made me feel like part of the family, even put my picture on their mantel. I spent a lot of time after school working or hanging here at the house but always had dinner and slept there at night. Until the second half of senior year. I moved back here then.”

“Why?”

“It was their last semester with Ty before graduation. I didn’t want to impose on all those ‘lasts’ and memories they were making, I guess. And to tell the truth . . .” His voice changes. “I didn’t think I could handle all the reminders of what I didn’t have.”

“Jude.” I notice that my own voice is thick with emotion too.

“Please don’t feel sorry for me. It is what it is, and I’ve made peace with it. You just . . . asked . . . and that’s what happened. Or the main gist of it anyway.”

I make myself count to ten before I answer. “I want to hug you because that’s what I would need right now. But, what do you need, Jude?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, and he picks up the controller beside his knee. “Right now, I think I need to remind you who the superior driver is.”

“I’m not sure that losing to me again is going to make you feel better.” I try to sound as convincingly lighthearted as possible. “But if this is what you really want . . . ” I grab my controller too.

With both our eyes back on the TV screen, he says, “And maybe a little later, we can get back to our list? What’s next?”

“Seashell painting.” It’s one of my favorites, but I’m not sure if it will be one of his.

“We decorate the shells and add fun little messages with markers and then leave them on the beach for other people to find. We usually take them to the other side of the island, so someone outside our family stumbles upon them.”

“Do you bury them?” He asks as we start the race.

“Not normally. But I guess we could?”

“Wouldn’t that be more fun for a kid to find? Like coming across a little treasure while they’re building a sandcastle or something?”

I shouldn’t be surprised anymore by how thoughtful and perfect his ideas are. “Spoken like a true pirate.”

“I wondered how long it was going to take you to start making pirate jokes again. Almost a whole day since you were sorry you came to the show, huh?”

“If it really bothers you, I’ll stop,” I offer.

“It doesn’t.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “But, hey, speaking of shells?”

“Yeah?”

Something hits the side of my virtual car, and it spins out.

I can’t even pretend to be mad, because Jude looks happy again. And if all it takes is video games to make him forget his pain for a little while, I’ll play for as long as he wants to.