The claw clears the water first, then the remainder of the body.
“It’s a blue crab,” I whisper. “A female.”
“How can you tell?”
“Her claw tips are bright red.”
His neck twists so he can see. “Why isn’t she letting go if she can see us?”
“She’s feisty.”
After another inspection, Klein lowers her into the water. I drop my own line, and we spend the next hour crabbing.
“Who taught you how to do that?” he asks as we ride back to my grandma’s.
“My dad, if you can believe it.”
My grandma has sandwiches and potato salad ready when we arrive. We wash our hands with hot, soapy water and dig in.
The afternoon is spent on the beach with my grandma, Sienna, and Spencer. The newlyweds join us halfway through the afternoon. I have to look away when their kisses surpass a socially acceptable amount of time.
Sienna assures me she hasn’t told anybody besides our mom about me and Klein. Someday I will. It’ll be a great story. But that day is not today.
The sun grows heavy in the sky, and my mother suggests we go up to the house and eat whatever is left in the fridge. It’s exactly the same thing she said on the final day of every trip when I was a kid. Everyone eats something different, or little pieces of everything.
My mother, my grandmother, and I settle in the rocking chairs on the porch. Sienna walks out with a bottle of wine in each hand, and takes the fourth chair.My mother and I share one bottle, Sienna and our grandma the other.
The sun dips lower, and we stay quiet, lost in our own thoughts until Sienna says, “I came here to get married.”
Her hand rests on the arm of the rocking chair, and Grandma reaches over to gently pat it. “If you wanted to get married, you probably should have chosen a better groom.”
We are stunned into silence, but then Sienna laughs. It’s a deep belly laugh, the kind that folds a person in half. My mother and I laugh, too, and Grandma shrugs sassily.
She turns her gaze my direction, and I shrink. “Don’t start on me.”
Her eyebrows raise. “You seem to have found your voice.”
“Klein brings it out of her,” Sienna says.
Grandma shakes her head, disagreeing. “I don’t think he brings it out. More like he doesn’t suppress it.”
My mom tips the bottle to her lips. Following her swallow, she says, “Does anybody else feel like they just received a verbal spanking?”
Sienna nods. “Absolutely.”
“That’s one of the perks of getting older.” Grandma takes the wine from Sienna. “Your filter is worn out and lets more through.”
We talk into the night. Klein joins us with a bottle of beer. My mom asks him to describe his book, and then mentions Ben’s best friend works at a publisher. “It’s always good to have another option,” she says when Klein explains there is already interest. “Even better when one publisher thinks another publisher is after your work.”
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and when I pull it out, I have to blink twice at the name on my screen. When was the last time my dad text messaged me?
Hey, hon. I had to head back unexpectedly today. Emergency at work. I was hoping to get a chance to talk with you tonight, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.
I stare at the phone, reading the message over and over. Klein leans against me, brushing a kiss over my temple.
“Did you read it?” I ask quietly.
He nods against my skin. I type out a response before I can spend too much time considering it.
