12
I wake up Sunday morning to a rather formal email from Eleanor telling me that I am on leave for the week while management reviews my employment status. I am not to come into the office until notified by an officer of Human Corps. Eleanor isn’t just my boss, she’s my friend. We’ve been out for drinks together, we’ve gotten manicures. I know which one of her kids doesn’t eat dairy and which one needs an EpiPen. And now, reading this email, she feels like a human corpse.
We could still leave tomorrow morning. We’ve done our three days. But there’s a hint of relief in the idea of not going back to the city, of swimming in the ocean and taking Jack to see Starfish Beach. Jack seems happy and relaxed out here and I don’t know what I was so afraid of. I wonder if, without Wyatt here, this is a place where we could return as a married couple. Our kids running in and out of the water all day.
My mom considers it a major victory when I tell her we’re staying for another few days. “I knew it,” she says, and I’m not sure what she knew. We decide to push off our visit to the Old Sloop Inn because Jack hasn’t been to the gym in two days. We have plenty of time, so it’s totally fine with me. He finds Mom, Granny, and me on the back porch.
“I’m going to combine push day with leg day, to make up for yesterday,” he tells me. “Want to meet in town for lunch?”
“Sure,” I say. “Let’s meet at Chippy’s at noon.”
“You won’t forget?”
I give him a little swat. “No, I’ll be hungry, so my stomach will remind me.”
He kisses me on the top of my head, and I have this familiar warm feeling as I watch him walk away, like I’m dating the captain of the football team.
“Why would you forget lunch?” my mom asks.
“He’s just teasing me. I’ve been forgetting things. Like I missed our ballroom dancing lesson.”
“Ballroom dancing?” Granny asks. “Who are you?”
My mom laughs. “For the wedding. It’s nice to see a bride and groom who can waltz.”
“Exactly. But I got caught up at work and totally forgot. Two weeks in a row.”
Granny narrows her eyes at me. “Interesting.”
“Not really. I have a wedding coming up and nothing’s been planned. I have a pretty intense job. I mean, it’s normal that I would let something slip through the cracks.”
“What else have you forgotten?” Granny asks in a tone that’s reminiscent of Dr. Judy.
I shrug. Besides forgetting to keep my big mouth shut at work, I can’t think of anything. “Nothing.”
Granny says, “You might want to consider the fact that on some level you don’t want to waltz.”
My mom says, “Mother, that’s ridiculous. Every bride wants to waltz.” It’s probably true. I like the idea of Jack and me moving perfectly in step, one-two-three, one-two-three, around the dance floor. How relaxing it would be if there were choreography for everything.
“It’s unbelievable that, of the three of us, I’m the one they call old,” Granny says.
“Laurel?” It’s Wyatt’s voice coming from the other side of the hedge.
“Over here,” my mom replies. And there he is, coming out of the dunes and up the porch steps.
I pull my cover-up over my not-so-tan thighs and reach for sunglasses that aren’t there. I know my mother sees.
He walks onto the deck and looks around. “Boy, I haven’t been here in a long time.”
“Well we’ve missed you,” says my mom, a traitor. “Can I get you some iced tea?” Iced tea. After all that happened. We’re going to sit down and have some iced tea.
“Thanks, but I can’t. I’m headed over to the Owl Barn to help set up for the festival, and I had to take my mom’s car in for an inspection. Travis left me his car, but I don’t see the keys.” It hurts a little to see Wyatt as a still-aspiring musician who’s driving a borrowed car. Not that I have a car, but I feel like Wyatt should.
“Ah, they’re in the kitchen in the bowl by the sink,” my mom says.
“Thanks,” Wyatt says to my mother. “I’ll drop the keys by later.”
Granny takes a sip of her tea. My mom folds back the brim of her sun hat. Wyatt is looking at me.
“What?” I hear myself say.
He smiles, new lines by his eyes but the same soft smile.
“Nothing. It’s just been a really long time. And I’m trying to decide how you’re different.”
I really wish I had sunglasses. “I’ll save you some time. I’m different in every single way.”
“I don’t think so.” And he walks right into my house.