Page 41 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs

Donovan giggles as he and Jude jump another set of waves. Though the sun is bright, the morning isn’t too hot yet. I watch them from my beach chair at the edge of the water, sunhat shading my eyes.

Jude looks happy, settled in a way I can’t describe. I feel it too. The waves crash, the seagulls call, and all is well on our little island.

“I’m thirsty,” Donovan says.

“Race you to the juice boxes?”

Jude winks at me, and they both take off. Jude lets him win. “Shh.” He laughs at the resulting celebration dance. “Don’t wake your sister.”

It’s only then that it dawns on me that the boy isn’t Donovan. He’s too young, with hair a shade lighter. And there’s something more than just peace settled on my chest; there’s a baby girl, eyelashes fluttering.

Jude pokes a straw into a juice box and hands it to the boy before bending down to kiss her cheek, then mine.

I sit up suddenly in the dark room, book tumbling onto the comforter, and try to pull myself together.

This was no nightmare, but my heart is racing and fear lurks close.

Because for the first time in my life, I’m not dreaming of things I’ve pulled from my past but of a future my subconscious has dared to imagine, something lovely that could and may never be.

“I guess I’m just trying to understand why you didn’t tell me sooner.” His tone is kind, but I don’t miss the edge of betrayal in his voice.

I pick at a loose thread on the skirt I wore to church this morning and watch the clouds as we drive to the ice cream shop. “Because I didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it.”

“It would have been nice to at least have a heads up. Were you just planning to mention it on your way out the door?”

I knew when I saw him this morning that the reprieve he’d extended last night was over, that this conversation was coming the moment we found ourselves alone again. I keep my words as soft as possible; I owe him that. “You knew I was leaving soon.”

“Not this soon. And I don’t like thinking about it either, but at this point, I think we kind of need to talk about it.”

My stomach tightens, and my head is still throbbing from crying last night. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Everything, Alex. What the plan is. How we’re going to make this work.” He swallows. “Unless, you were never planning for this to last longer than this summer.”

“I was never planning to fall in love at all this summer.” I train my voice as best I can; the last thing this discussion needs is added emotion. “And of course I don’t want it to end.” I grapple for my next words.

“But?”

“Jude, long distance is hard.” I sigh. I might as well tell him everything I’m thinking. “I’m just scared that we’ve made a huge mistake.”

He pulls into a space next to the ice cream shop and turns to face me. “A huge mistake?” he echoes incredulously.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I just mean that your friendship is one of the best things in my life, and I would never want to risk that for—”

He interrupts me, more worked up than I’ve ever seen him.

“Why are you acting like we have to choose? Why can’t we have all of it?

And, long distance? It’s not even a three-hour drive.

Your cousin will be in SPAIN, and you haven’t told her that maintaining your relationship long distance isn’t worth it. ”

I will not cry. I will not cry. “I never said it wasn’t worth it. I just said it would be hard. We’re already fighting, and I haven’t even left yet.”

“That’s not fair.”

Should I reach for his hand or not? I’m handling this all wrong. “I don’t want us to argue.”

“Neither do I. But if the alternative is giving up, I’d rather fight every minute of the next four days.” He turns up the air and angles his vent to blow in his face. “I just need to know that I’m not fighting alone. I need to know what you want right now.”

“Honestly?” I ask him. “Right now, I want to get ice cream with my best friend.”

He hangs his head, defeated.

“I don’t want to be done talking about this,” I promise. “It’s important. But ice cream won’t hurt, right?”

“I guess not,” he relents. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” In a different context, it would be both humorous and adorable that he considered his slightly impassioned voice yelling.

When I rest my arm against his on the console, the contact seems to comfort us both a little. “What kind of ice cream are you going to get?”

“Strawberry.”

“Since when do you like strawberry ice cream?”

“Since forever. But I never liked having to watch you pick either your beloved mint chocolate chip or cookies & cream. Now I can buy you a scoop of each.”

I rifle through my mental files back to all the summers I agonized over the decision. Did he always get the other flavor so he could offer me a bite?

“See, Alex?” He opens his car door. “You don’t always have to choose between two good things.”

We’re laughing again as we drive to the pier. The ice cream did help after all.

Jude’s in the middle of a story about the time he and Ty caught a baby shark when his phone rings in the cup holder. I glance at the name on the screen and wait for him to pick it up.

He keeps his eyes on the road. “I can call them back.”

“It’s your dad.”

“What?” He scrambles for the phone as the light turns green. “Can you answer? Put it on speaker.”

I tap the screen with shaky hands and resituate it between us.

“Dad? What’s wrong?”

The two seconds of silence feel like a full minute, likely longer for Jude. “Nothing’s wrong, son. I just called to talk to you.”

Jude isn’t convinced. He keeps one hand on the wheel and searches for mine with the other. I hold on tight, hoping to provide him any small anchor I can.

“I talked to your sister late last night. She told me what’s been going on with her and Donovan. How you took them in, helped her find a job and a place of their own.”

Jude pulls off into the nearest lot and puts the car in park. Rather than picking up the phone, he takes my hand again. “I didn’t take them in, Dad. It’s just as much her house as mine. And Tyler’s folks were the ones who really helped with the job and apartment and all.”

Silence. And then, “She knew you were a safe place to go. And I’m thankful for that. It should have been me. I should have been that, for all of you.” Jude’s fingers clutch mine so tightly now that his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t speak.

“She told me you seem happy,” his dad goes on. “Said you’ve been seeing someone? One of those girls who used to come with that big family in the summer?”

“Yeah,” Jude squeaks. “Alexandria.”

His dad clears his throat, and it’s only a noise, but I swear he sounds just like Jude. “This the girl you punched Gavin for kissing?” My mouth falls open.

“Yeah, Dad. Same girl.”

“I’m happy for you, Jude.” I can tell he means it.

“And listen, I know I’m the last person who probably has the right to give you any kind of advice, but .

. .” Emotion floods his voice and Jude’s countenance.

“When you find someone who makes you happy like that, hang on to her as long as you can. Don’t take any of it for granted. Just, enjoy the time you have, okay?”

Considering the state he’s in now, I’m shocked by the clarity of his answer. “I plan to.”

A sniff echoes over the line. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you being there for Kelsey. You’ve grown into a fine man, Jude.”

The next words are hoarse, strained. “Thanks for calling, Dad.”

“Love you, son.” My fingers go numb.

“Love you too.”

The call disconnects, and quiet fills the car like water rushing in. Jude lays his free arm across the steering wheel and buries his face in it. I watch helplessly as the person who has held me together all summer unravels.

His whole body heaves with every unbridled sob, but his hand remains in mine. So I trace my other fingertips lightly over his arm and wait out the storm by his side.

Eventually, his breathing slows and he sits up, releasing my hand and dragging both of his across his swollen face. “I’m tired.”

I nod. “Let’s go home.”