The entire bar is so silent, the only sounds I can make out are the distant kitchen pots and pans behind the bar. Peter makes eye contact with me, then glances down and says, “Sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Adam barks, doing his absolute best impression of William.
“Adam, that’s good,” I say, lightly touching his arm. He glances down at my hand, and when he looks at me, something weird happens in my belly. Because as sharp as his face was, staring at Peter, it is completely softened now, taking me in. It’s the complete opposite of how he looked at me a week or so ago, hurling baseless accusations, and I’m so unnerved by it, I feel like I’m gonna trip while just standing here.
“Nothing about this is good,” he tells me.
I nod. It’s the truth, after all. “I know. But he apologized. I’m going to leave with my friend now.”
Anise gives me a concerned glance as we make our way to the front. The second the doors close behind us, she asks, “Are you okay, Sky?”
I put on a smile—the one I always perform when my sisters ask the same question. Or at least the question they used to ask me until they got all busy adulting and having their own families and stuff. “Yup.”
The way Anise looks at me, I suspect I’m not convincing her as well as I did with my sisters. “Well, can I give you a hug? That angry white man in there was scary as hell.”
I almost break into tears when her arms wrap around me. I should’ve known Anise gives good hugs like this—tight and warm. “Thank you.”
Anise doesn’t leave until she sees me in my car, keys in my hand. I wave at her as she pulls away and then let out a deep,shaky sigh. I need to get home as fast as possible so I can hide under all my elaborate, expensive covers, listen to Chappell Roan, and cry my heart out.
But before I can slide my key into the ignition, there’s a knock on the window that makes my heart feel like it’s jumped into my throat.
I roll down my window when I see it’s Adam. “Hey.” The line of the streetlamps lights up his hair as though it were spun from coppery gold. He says nothing else, but he examines my face closely, as though he’s searching for some sign of injury. I don’t get it. It’s not like Peter punched me in the nose or something.
I should probably thank him. That’s what a normal person would do, right? But when I open my mouth, instead I ask, “Can I help you?”
He nods. “Yeah. Let me buy you a drink.”
I frown. “Buy me a drink? What for? If anything, I owe you one for what you did…in there. Thanks for that. By the way.”
Adam chuckles and shakes his head. “Actually, I owe you an apology. I can do that with a drink. You like the blueberry beer here, was it? I can get you another.” He points toward the Lost Souls sign, neon blue and red and orange in the night. EachOis a skull and crossbones.
“Maybe another time. I don’t want to go back in there.” After the spectacle that just occurred, there’s no way I am on track to the town forgetting all about me and my “lies.”
Adam nods as he lets out a breath. “What about at Gramps’s?”
I blink. “Um.” I shrug. “Okay.” It’s not like I have anything better to do. And if Adam wants to apologize for being a suspicious jerk to me the other week, I’ll welcome it. After no one apologizing for their bad behavior in this town for over a year,two in a day is definitely going to set the record for a long, long time. May as well bask in the glory.
I follow his car all the way back to Catalina Street, the sky full of misty clouds that obscure the blinking stars. Sometimes I wonder if my gifts can reach far into the universe somehow. Chances are, Earth isn’t the only planet that contains life, right? What if there are animals out there somewhere, orbiting a star we don’t even know exists yet? I wonder if they can sense my grief and loneliness in the faraway places of space, and on days when I feel happy or sad or strange for no reason, it’s because I’m sensing them right back. This is something I want to ask my sisters, too, about theirgifts. Can Teal, who controls the weather, affect the perpetual red hurricane on Jupiter? Can Sage, who communes with plants, make extraterrestrial flowers bloom?
Since Nadia’s is only across the street from William’s, I leave my vehicle in her driveway and walk over. Adam leans against his Jeep, eyes on me in a way that makes me feel a bit strange. I was expecting him to be inside already, preparing drinks, but nope. He’s watching me with that same warm, soft expression, like I mean something to him, which makes exactly no sense. It’s unnerving in more ways than one—it also reminds me of that one night, when I was still a ghost, and he was with that curvy girl. How he’d looked right at me and said,We should get out of here.
He leans his head toward the front door, and when I walk up, he beats me there and holds it open for me. “Do you like whiskey?” he asks. “I’m afraid that’s all Gramps keeps around here.”
“No blueberry beer for William, huh?”
“Nope.” He smiles. “And his bedroom light’s out, so he won’t be joining us. Which is too bad, because Gramps is hilarious when he’s tipsy.”
“I need to see that sometime for sure,” I say. “About the whiskey…I’d rather have some water or tea, if that’s okay by you.”
He nods. “I don’t even drink, so that’s more than fine.”
“You don’t?” Maybe it’s rude to inquire more, but I can’t help it. “So you were at Lost Souls for the loaded chips?”
“Something like that.” I sit at the dining table, which has a full view of the open kitchen—the eucalyptus green walls, the scuffed yellow linoleum floor, the rusty appliances that all look like they’re one big family feast away from collapsing. Adam bends down to find the kettle in the cupboard, then fills it with water and places it on the stovetop. I begrudgingly admit to myself that I admire the way he moves his body—even just the basic task of boiling water for tea is imbued with intent. He fully inhabits his form in the way animals do. Which isn’t an insult in my book. Far from it, in fact.
William’s stove apparently has a deceptive exterior—it actually works really fast. By the time Adam’s got the tea bags in the mugs, the kettle is already whistling. He pours the tea and brings them over, the steam fluttering around him, reminding me of that night again—when I’d thought he’d looked like an angel.
“I’m sorry I accused you of trying to take advantage of Gramps,” he begins, his deep voice flowing around me just like the tea steam. “It’s no excuse, but I’ve been going through a lot lately. And I’ve also been really scared for him.” Adam sighs. “His doc thinks he has some early signs of dementia.”
