tuck each memory into a cherished pocket of my heart, pull down my sunglasses and slip into my car.
I don’t look back.
Five, four, three, two, one. The tires round the corner onto the main drag, and I exhale. Yet the ache that churns in the hollow of my belly doesn’t dissipate. Neither does the regret that fills my oxygen-starved lungs.
I haven’t memorized the ferry schedule, but I’m willing to risk a wait. Because I tell myself the hard part will be over once I get on board. Once I look over the railing. Once I put the island behind me.
Six over-sized orange barricades block my entrance to the ferry.
The white cardboard clock that hangs from the middle blockade states I just missed the 3:20pm departure. The next one won’t be here until 5:00. Exactly one hour and thirty-three minutes from now.
I park under a large oak tree in the deserted lot and decide to stretch my legs by the shoreline. Maybe there’ll be a nice distraction out on the water I can watch for two hours or maybe I can recite the alphabet a few hundred times, or maybe—
A crusty-sounding bark echoes in the not-so-far-away distance. I whip around. Pete, the infamous guard dog, hobbles alongside his coverall-wearing owner. The pair stops to rest on a weathered park bench a few yards away, and I wonder if Harve’s seen me. If it’s too late to duck-crawl back to my car and feign sleep.
“Joss? That you, kiddo?”
Yep. It’s definitely too late. I shift my weight from foot to foot and wave.
He holds a brown paper bag in the air, shakes it. Pete stretches tall, as tall as a three-legged dog can stretch, and whimpers.
“Come get yourself some donut holes while they’re still hot.”
Harve’s gruff suggestion sounds more like a demand than an invitation, but I move toward them anyway. Chatting it up with Harve wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my last few hours on the island, but then again, neither was leaving Drew without a goodbye.
Drew.
I erase his name the instant it appears in my mind.
“You leaving us?” Harve asks, opening the pastry sack and shoving it toward me.
I look from him to his dog. Pete glowers at me with the same wrinkly expression of distrust he’s worn since we met. And without looking away, I reach into the bag and grab three sticky-warm glazed donuts holes. Pete barks and I can’t help but savor my first bite.
The chipping paint on the tabletop scratches the underside of my thighs as I sit and plant my feet on the park bench. “Yep. It’s time to get back.” The words taste sour on my tongue.
Harve pulls out a donut hole from the bag and tosses it to Pete. Shockingly, Pete’s reflexes for donuts are faster than his well-practiced hobble. He catches it easily, the folds of his skin wagging for a full two seconds after his initial bite. It’s both disgusting and impressive.
“Hard to leave a place like this.” Harve doesn’t look at me, but each syllable he speaks carves a hole in the center of my chest.
“Yeah.”
“Especially during the summer months. This weather is a taste of heaven.”
“Yeah.” Because what else can I say?
“But goodbyes come, no matter if we’re ready for them or not.”
My eyes snap to his, but still, Harve looks beyond me, through me, to a place I can’t reach, to a peace I’ve never been able to locate.
“What do you mean?”
“Goodbyes are like the seasons. Inevitable.”
I scan the trees, searching for evidence of a prank or even an angelic figure with a halo. I see neither, but the hair on the back of my neck stands at attention.
“Thanks for the donut holes, but I should really get going.” Where? I have no idea. I scoot to the right and my cotton shorts snag against the tabletop.
He ignores me completely and continues on as if I haven’t said a word. “The timepiece float was the talk of the parade. You and Drew make a good team.”
Drew’s name is like one of those rent-by-the-hour sky banners towed behind a two-seater airplane. The
I don’t look back.
Five, four, three, two, one. The tires round the corner onto the main drag, and I exhale. Yet the ache that churns in the hollow of my belly doesn’t dissipate. Neither does the regret that fills my oxygen-starved lungs.
I haven’t memorized the ferry schedule, but I’m willing to risk a wait. Because I tell myself the hard part will be over once I get on board. Once I look over the railing. Once I put the island behind me.
Six over-sized orange barricades block my entrance to the ferry.
The white cardboard clock that hangs from the middle blockade states I just missed the 3:20pm departure. The next one won’t be here until 5:00. Exactly one hour and thirty-three minutes from now.
I park under a large oak tree in the deserted lot and decide to stretch my legs by the shoreline. Maybe there’ll be a nice distraction out on the water I can watch for two hours or maybe I can recite the alphabet a few hundred times, or maybe—
A crusty-sounding bark echoes in the not-so-far-away distance. I whip around. Pete, the infamous guard dog, hobbles alongside his coverall-wearing owner. The pair stops to rest on a weathered park bench a few yards away, and I wonder if Harve’s seen me. If it’s too late to duck-crawl back to my car and feign sleep.
“Joss? That you, kiddo?”
Yep. It’s definitely too late. I shift my weight from foot to foot and wave.
He holds a brown paper bag in the air, shakes it. Pete stretches tall, as tall as a three-legged dog can stretch, and whimpers.
“Come get yourself some donut holes while they’re still hot.”
Harve’s gruff suggestion sounds more like a demand than an invitation, but I move toward them anyway. Chatting it up with Harve wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my last few hours on the island, but then again, neither was leaving Drew without a goodbye.
Drew.
I erase his name the instant it appears in my mind.
“You leaving us?” Harve asks, opening the pastry sack and shoving it toward me.
I look from him to his dog. Pete glowers at me with the same wrinkly expression of distrust he’s worn since we met. And without looking away, I reach into the bag and grab three sticky-warm glazed donuts holes. Pete barks and I can’t help but savor my first bite.
The chipping paint on the tabletop scratches the underside of my thighs as I sit and plant my feet on the park bench. “Yep. It’s time to get back.” The words taste sour on my tongue.
Harve pulls out a donut hole from the bag and tosses it to Pete. Shockingly, Pete’s reflexes for donuts are faster than his well-practiced hobble. He catches it easily, the folds of his skin wagging for a full two seconds after his initial bite. It’s both disgusting and impressive.
“Hard to leave a place like this.” Harve doesn’t look at me, but each syllable he speaks carves a hole in the center of my chest.
“Yeah.”
“Especially during the summer months. This weather is a taste of heaven.”
“Yeah.” Because what else can I say?
“But goodbyes come, no matter if we’re ready for them or not.”
My eyes snap to his, but still, Harve looks beyond me, through me, to a place I can’t reach, to a peace I’ve never been able to locate.
“What do you mean?”
“Goodbyes are like the seasons. Inevitable.”
I scan the trees, searching for evidence of a prank or even an angelic figure with a halo. I see neither, but the hair on the back of my neck stands at attention.
“Thanks for the donut holes, but I should really get going.” Where? I have no idea. I scoot to the right and my cotton shorts snag against the tabletop.
He ignores me completely and continues on as if I haven’t said a word. “The timepiece float was the talk of the parade. You and Drew make a good team.”
Drew’s name is like one of those rent-by-the-hour sky banners towed behind a two-seater airplane. The
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