“No, it’s nice to talk about her.” My hand briefly touched his knee in further affirmation. “Her name was Vivienne. I was six when she died, so I’ve got maybe a dozen actual memories of her, but she was a total superhero. Like, in every photo, there’s always wind blowing through her hair. She was really athletic, loved the water. Captain of the swim team at Duke when my dad was varsity quarterback. He still calls her his ‘Division 1 Debutante.’”
Arjun nodded tentatively, sensing no happy ending.
“Anyway, she was on a work trip in Myrtle Beach, down in South Carolina. She went swimming one morning before a meeting, and… there was a rip tide.”
“Jesus,” Arjun murmured, looking guiltily down the beach.
“Please, I’m long numb to the ocean. My dad always said nothing would break her heart more than me being scared of the water.”
“We don’t have to keep talking about this.”
“No, I want you to know.” And I did. I felt a rush of relief speaking so openly with him, but I shrugged it off, convinced the liquor was finally hitting. “Still, that was a lifetime ago. I mean, it’s only been a week, and Ialready feel like I’ve beenherefor months.”
“Time moves differently when you’re filming,” he said softly, glancing away as he rummaged through his pocket. “I got you something, by the way.”
“What? When?”
He offered his fist, a ring of metal flashing before he released his fingers, and a little plastic sea turtle plummeted down a thin strand of silver, threaded through a flipper. “Just a key chain I saw at the airport outside customs. I snagged it for my brother, but—”
“No, keep it for Emaan.”
“You rock the turtle vibe more: soft inside, tough exterior. Emaan’s soft inside and out.”
I bashfully adjusted my sweat-stained baseball hat. “Naw, I don’t have a tough exterior.”
“He saysnaw.”
I did in those days, my accent still breaking through. Arjun dangled the turtle over my hand until the ring slipped off his finger, tumbling into my open palm.
We sat in silence, the waves breaking, until he asked, “So, do you miss football?”
“I miss knowing what the future would be.”
“Yeah, I can imagine my whole world blown to bits, but putting it back together? That scares me shitless,” he said, expression unreadable in the dark. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Actually I saw this quote recently that I found strangely comforting. ‘The world had been destroyed many times before the creation of Man,’” I recited. “Lord Byron.”
“Ever the man of letters.”
“I guess. I was always a big reader. My momstackedthe house with books for me and Jenny. Like, our bedrooms were practically libraries. And it’s not like there were a bunch of kids battering down the door to hang out, so… God, I’m really rambling…”
The breeze waltzed through the palm trees above, rustling his bangs. Would the night conceal my blushing, the burning constellation of scars crossing from my temple to my jaw?
“Hey, stop hiding your face,” Arjun said, smacking my hand as it made its clumsy mask. “Your scars are badass. Like Clint Eastwood in a Western.”
“Or Lon Chaney inPhantom of the Opera.”
“Don’t say that stuff. Christ, it makes me despise the guy who hit you.” He paused, clearly sensing my discomfort at this subject (a feeling that never left me, even after the whole saga finally leaked years later during Barnes’ first campaign). “Luke, what’s wrong?”
We’d drained that margarita pitcher, but even if I’d been sober, I couldn’t lie to Arjun. So I told the boy I’d known a week the story I’d kept hidden the past six months.
Jenny hadn’t been any more popular in high school than me, but afterLiberty Todayshe’d been inundated with calls from her old Morrocroft classmates. Her high school reunion was a few weeks away, the Saturday after Thanksgiving. “These girls never once acknowledged me and now they suddenly want to know if I’ll be at the Fifth,” Jenny groaned over the phone. “They all want me to bring you.”
“I mean, I’ll be home for the break. I can be your security blanket.”
“You seriously want to make small talk with seven different Carolines?”
“Come on, it might be fun being queen for a day.”
