Chinese riddle, the fact is that the past isn’t in the past at all. It’s vital and breathing and a little bit ravenous, and no matter what else we’ve lost, it’s the one thing we can never truly lose.
Chapter Six: Michael
I’ve dreaded this day for weeks, maybe even months. Now that it’s here, though, it doesn’t seem to pack the power that I feared it would. No, today’s just an average, unremarkable Saturday. Muggy and hot for late May, with a hazy morning sun that’s already making me sweat, but it’s bizarre how absurdly normal everything feels. Normal, if Andrea and I weren’t driving to Grandma Richardson’s to visit the family gravesite and mark the first anniversary of Alex’s death. And if I weren’t seeing his sister, Laurel, for the first time since we laid him in the ground. There’s been lots of water under our bridge since then, Laurel’s and mine, and none of it good.
Weird to think that it was early morning just like this when Alex stopped into the kitchen on his way out to work and said to me one last time, “Baby, I love you.”
What made him turn back that way? Andrea was already in the car, his briefcase was slung over his shoulder, and then just like that, he stopped. We said the words often enough between ourselves, though not usually with him halfway out the door. He made such a point of me hearing that last time; he wanted me to know. For the rest of my life, I’ll see the smile he gave me as he turned away.
Who would’ve thought that a single day could change everything so much? It’s the time warp thing again, like I told Rebecca. Sometimes it even feels like that movie Groundhog Day , with me watching him leave over and over, only there’s a different ending every time. How I wish.
Even though it’s a somber occasion that’s calling us back to his hometown today, I’m still determined to make it a special visit for Andie. That’s why we’re taking this slightly longish coastal route. It’s a beautiful day and I liked the idea of her seeing the ocean for a good part of the drive, and while she’s not full of chatty reactions, her face lights up once the beach appears off to the side of the 101. She’s always loved the ocean, whether it’s up in Santa Cruz or out at Casey’s place in Malibu. She’s pure beach bum, just like her daddy was.
As we crest a slight hill, dark, shark-like figures appear in the water, a group of them bobbing along on their boards. “Look,” I point out. “Surfers.”
“But it’s so early.” She wrinkles her nose as she looks at the dashboard clock. Seven a.m. on a Saturday, not my idea of where I’d be, paddling my way out into the chilly Pacific, squeezed tight into my wetsuit.
“Hey, you know what Daddy always said,” I remind her with a grin, and she finishes for me, “The best waves don’t ever sleep in!” We both laugh a minute, remembering, and my heart beats a little faster at the pure joy of making her smile.
“Won’t be long and we’ll be out there, too. Casey’s planning on us for Fourth of July.” We always used to spend summer holidays with Casey at his beach house, but this will be the first time without Alex.
“Well I’m not going to surf.” She turns from me, staring out the window of the truck.
“Why not?” I ask, even though I already guessed she wouldn’t wear her bathing suit, not with how self-conscious she is about that long scar on her thigh.
She only shrugs, studying the open map that I had given her to track our travel progress over the six-hour drive. From the corner of my eye, I see her taking her fingers and measuring out the distance, then comparing it to the mileage legend. Sizing up the world between her stubby little fingertips. The world’s a big place when you’re that small: everything seems super-sized compared to what you know.
That’s what I’m thinking when out of nowhere she asks, “Were you always gay?”
I almost spit coffee onto the steering wheel of my
Chapter Six: Michael
I’ve dreaded this day for weeks, maybe even months. Now that it’s here, though, it doesn’t seem to pack the power that I feared it would. No, today’s just an average, unremarkable Saturday. Muggy and hot for late May, with a hazy morning sun that’s already making me sweat, but it’s bizarre how absurdly normal everything feels. Normal, if Andrea and I weren’t driving to Grandma Richardson’s to visit the family gravesite and mark the first anniversary of Alex’s death. And if I weren’t seeing his sister, Laurel, for the first time since we laid him in the ground. There’s been lots of water under our bridge since then, Laurel’s and mine, and none of it good.
Weird to think that it was early morning just like this when Alex stopped into the kitchen on his way out to work and said to me one last time, “Baby, I love you.”
What made him turn back that way? Andrea was already in the car, his briefcase was slung over his shoulder, and then just like that, he stopped. We said the words often enough between ourselves, though not usually with him halfway out the door. He made such a point of me hearing that last time; he wanted me to know. For the rest of my life, I’ll see the smile he gave me as he turned away.
Who would’ve thought that a single day could change everything so much? It’s the time warp thing again, like I told Rebecca. Sometimes it even feels like that movie Groundhog Day , with me watching him leave over and over, only there’s a different ending every time. How I wish.
Even though it’s a somber occasion that’s calling us back to his hometown today, I’m still determined to make it a special visit for Andie. That’s why we’re taking this slightly longish coastal route. It’s a beautiful day and I liked the idea of her seeing the ocean for a good part of the drive, and while she’s not full of chatty reactions, her face lights up once the beach appears off to the side of the 101. She’s always loved the ocean, whether it’s up in Santa Cruz or out at Casey’s place in Malibu. She’s pure beach bum, just like her daddy was.
As we crest a slight hill, dark, shark-like figures appear in the water, a group of them bobbing along on their boards. “Look,” I point out. “Surfers.”
“But it’s so early.” She wrinkles her nose as she looks at the dashboard clock. Seven a.m. on a Saturday, not my idea of where I’d be, paddling my way out into the chilly Pacific, squeezed tight into my wetsuit.
“Hey, you know what Daddy always said,” I remind her with a grin, and she finishes for me, “The best waves don’t ever sleep in!” We both laugh a minute, remembering, and my heart beats a little faster at the pure joy of making her smile.
“Won’t be long and we’ll be out there, too. Casey’s planning on us for Fourth of July.” We always used to spend summer holidays with Casey at his beach house, but this will be the first time without Alex.
“Well I’m not going to surf.” She turns from me, staring out the window of the truck.
“Why not?” I ask, even though I already guessed she wouldn’t wear her bathing suit, not with how self-conscious she is about that long scar on her thigh.
She only shrugs, studying the open map that I had given her to track our travel progress over the six-hour drive. From the corner of my eye, I see her taking her fingers and measuring out the distance, then comparing it to the mileage legend. Sizing up the world between her stubby little fingertips. The world’s a big place when you’re that small: everything seems super-sized compared to what you know.
That’s what I’m thinking when out of nowhere she asks, “Were you always gay?”
I almost spit coffee onto the steering wheel of my
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