Page 26 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs
I’m only a handful of seconds behind him, but I hover by the screen door, listening, trying to piece this together like a jigsaw.
“. . . should have called first,” she’s saying. “But we just started driving.”
“This is where you should have come. It’s just as much your house as mine.” He’s standing there between us, rainwater dripping onto the carpet. “Where’s Donovan?”
“I put him down in Dad’s bed for tonight. Thankfully, he was asleep by the time we got here. It probably would have been hard to drag him out of a fort filled with Legos and junk food otherwise.” She points to the structure beside her. “Should I even ask?”
Jude spins around and spots me just outside.
“Shoot. Alex. I’m so sorry.” He ushers me inside where the air conditioning only makes me shiver more violently.
I can’t tell if the tremor in his voice is from the cold or the understandable shock and disorientation he must be feeling right now. “You remember Kelsey, right?”
“Hi.” I pull the towel more tightly around my shoulders and smile at her. “I’m sorry my stuff is in your room. I’m leaving tomorrow, but I can switch rooms tonight.”
“We’re fine down here. I didn’t realize Jude had company.” She looks at her brother apologetically again. “Let me check on Donovan; I’ll be back in a few.” She leaves us alone.
“Let’s go change,” he suggests. “And then I’ll make hot chocolate and catch you up on what’s going on.”
“Actually,” I counter, “why don’t I start a pot of coffee before I head upstairs to clean up and turn in? Your sister needs you tonight.”
He doesn’t argue, just stands in front of me as I watch his mind spin behind his stunned eyes. It takes every bit of self-control I possess to walk past him into the kitchen and give him the time and space I know he needs right now.
I move the load of sheets and towels and my favorite borrowed hoodie to the dryer and push the button before quietly ascending the back stairs to the kitchen door.
I need to get down the words that rolled around in my head all night before I go.
What does it mean that
All my favorite pastimes
Are past times
And I pass time
By watching time pass
And crying, “Too fast!”
When I could sink my toes
Into the sand
Of this hourglass
And feel the sun on my back
And not look back
Or ask
How long it might last
But simply bask
In this moment
And unwrap
This gift, this Present
At last
When I close the notebook, he’s there. “Morning.”
“Sorry,” I whisper back. “I was trying to be quiet.”
“You didn’t wake me up.”
“I was hoping you might be able to sleep in this morning. You guys were up late last night.”
He walks around the counter, and I can’t stand how this tiny change in proximity affects me. “I’m cleaning houses this morning,” he explains. “Trying to get an early start so maybe I can catch you before your family gets here for check-in.”
“I’ve already packed my car.” I pick up the notebook because I don’t know what else to do with my hands. “I thought it might be better if I wasn’t here when your nephew wakes up.”
His gaze wanders to the living room where the blankets are neatly folded in a pile, Legos all packed back into their boxes. “But you are coming back? We had a deal.”
“That was before you knew Kelsey would be here. We can still hang out after vacation, but I can figure something else out for those few weeks if that would be better.”
“No.” He says it so loudly that he winces and looks down the hallway.
He lowers his volume again. “Please don’t.
They just need a safe place to stay for a little bit while Kels figures some stuff out.
There’s plenty of room here. After a week with a hundred people, three won’t seem like that many, I promise.
And you’re going to love Donovan; he’s amazing. ”
Why can’t I look at him? “I’m sure I will.” We sit, too close and not close enough, for a few minutes in the loudest silence I’ve ever heard.
He finally breaks it. “You excited to see your family?”
“Yeah.”
“That didn’t sound very convincing.”
I sigh. “I am excited to see them. But it’s like this every year: so much anticipation for this week, but the days leading up to it, all I feel is this .
. . fear. What if it doesn’t live up to my expectations?
What if this is finally the year all the magic is gone?
What if everything that came before gets tarnished somehow?
” I bite the inside of my mouth, blink away tears. “I know, I have issues.”
“We all have issues, Alex. And your fear stems from loving so much, which isn’t a fault.
” I trace the outline of the notebook with one finger, positive that if I so much as glimpse his face, I’ll lose my composure completely.
“I’m not going to tell you not to be afraid,” he goes on.
“Because I know that’s not how it works.
Just don’t let the beautiful moments be choked out by your need to hang onto them.
” How does he always know the perfect thing to say?
Why do I want to stay here in this kitchen with him forever? Why do I want to run away?
“I’m going to get out of here and let you get ready for work. Thanks again for everything.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say it like that.”
“Like what?” I stand and hug the book full of our words to my chest.
“Like you’re leaving for good.” He hooks his thumbs in his shorts pockets. “Look, maybe this is because I have issues of my own, but I just need to hear you say one more time that you’re coming back next weekend.”
I step to the side, making a decision for my own sake as much as his, and slide the familiar drawer open, deposit our book inside, and close it again. “I’ll be back next weekend, Jude.”
Then, I walk away as quickly as I can, before I say something stupid, before I even let myself think it.