I ducked my head, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, well, Iwasfive.”
“Hey, I get it. We all play in the dirt when we’re kids. But what do you like to donow?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “I like to grow things. I told you that already. Anne and I tend to the vegetable gardens.”
Bastian grinned. I liked the look of it on him. It was better than the surly expression he wore most of the time. “See, now that’s amazing. I can’t grow anything. I tried to grow weed in my apartment last year but it died after a week. It was really disappointing.”
“You were growing weeds? Why would you do that? Why not some flowers?” I scoffed. It was my turn to look at him like he was crazy.
Bastian squinted at me. “Uh, not weeds.Weed. You know. Marijuana?”
I shook my head.
Bastian snorted. “You don’t know what marijuana is? What self-respecting eighteen-year-old doesn’t know that?”
I felt like he was mocking me. I didn’t like it.
“Okay, if you’re going to make fun of me, I’ve got to get back—” I started to stand up but Bastian grabbed my hand.
“No. Don’t go. I wasn’t making fun of you. I promise.” He gave my hand a tug. “Sit back down. Just for a few more minutes.”
I hesitated.
“This is the first non-crazy conversation I’ve had in days. Please.”
I bristled. “We’re not crazy!”
He pursed his lips. “I didn’t mean—don’t you think—you know what, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that.”
I relaxed. Marginally. Slowly I sat back down. Though I was still on guard.
“It’d be nice to do some art here. Get some paints or acrylics. This view would be amazing on canvas. Sitting here, I can almost imagine living here forever.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you planning to be here forever? Isn’t that why you wanted to join us?” I was goading him. I knew it. He knew it.
But he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he ignored my questions.
“Do you think you could teach me how to grow something?” Bastian asked.
“Sure. If you want to,” I said nonchalantly. But my heart thudded a little harder.
A little quicker.
Bastian smiled again. The genuine one. The one he meant. “Cool. That sounds great.” He sighed, looking back out across the vista. “It’s peaceful. But it’s so quiet. Maybe too quiet. It’s weird, but I kind of miss the noise.”
“I like it quiet,” was all I said.
“I don’t know. There’s something exhilarating about a loud concert. Or the crash of waves on a beach. Or the commotion when you stand in the middle of Times Square in New York. Noise reminds us that we’rehere. That we’re present. That we’realive,” he countered, picking up a handful of dirt and letting it sift through his fingers.
I couldn’t argue with that. Nor could I agree with it. It was contrary to my entire life. To my entire world. We sought silence and peace. We removed ourselves from the chaos of theoutside. It wasn’t something to desire. Something to find joy in. His words confused me.
But I found them interesting all the same. I didn’t want them to be. But I couldn’t help it.
“Have you been to New York?” I asked though my better sense stopped me from asking anything more, even if I wanted to. Before coming to The Retreat, I had never really been anywhere outside of the small town in Oregon where I grew up. Mom didn’t take me on vacations. I vaguely remembered Dad driving me to the ocean once before he left. But the recollections were hazy. I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it.
I tried not to think about all the places I wouldn’t visit. All the places I could only picture in my head.
I had to find my happiness where I was. I had to accept my place in life. I was destined for greater things. I couldn’t want for anything else.
