Jake’s eyes softened, and he gave a small nod. “Good thing, because I don’t. That’s why we make a good team.”
Rye scrunched up his nose. “We make a good team... because I can cook and you can’t?”
“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds selfish of me, doesn’t it. I did bring the cookies, though.”
“The cookies that your sister made for you.”
“Yeah, she loves me.”
Rye had no idea what that had to do with anything, but he snorted out a laugh and shook his head. Jake was laughing, too, his eyes soft and bright again. And Rye held his gaze for an extra second, feeling all the joy of the moment.
This is wonderful.
The thought nearly burst from him, and he wasn’t even sure why he didn’t let it. After all, it was the truth. This was a wonderful moment, a wonderful new memory—sitting here on the beach, watching his friend enjoy sticking his weird, long toes in the sand while eating homemade potato salad.
It was wonderful.
But he suddenly felt a little too warm, like an odd amount of heat had traveled up into his cheeks, and he blinked and turned to look back out at the ocean.
The heat didn’t go away, though. In fact, when Jake started talking again, explaining how his sister had tried and tried and tried to teach him to cook over the years, but he just hadn’t cared enough to put any effort into it, that feeling only intensified. It must have been happiness, he assumed. Because right then, sitting out on the beach with his friend, sharing potato salad and cookies, talking and laughing and teasing, Rye felt happier than he thought maybe he’d ever felt before.
And he felt like maybe,just maybe, he’d be... okay.
Maybe he’d found enough pieces of home, enough of what used to be, and maybe... maybe the rest of his broken self could be “fixed” with moments just like this.
Five months later . . .
Chapter Forty-Five
Jake
“Yeah,that’sright.Theformula will be right there.” Jake pointed to the computer screen. “Click here.”
Jake scooted his chair a little closer to Rye’s at the small dining room table at Rye’s house and watched as Rye followed his instructions, frowning. A window popped up showing a bunch of math formulas, and Rye scrolled a bit until he found the one he needed.
“I guess I should be happy they aren’t making me memorize them all.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be fun,” Jake said.
Rye huffed a small laugh that didn’t really seem to have much humor to it. Then he picked up his pencil and started working out the math problem, the second one on the math portion of his GED practice test. They’d been working since that morning, and Rye had successfully completed and passed the three other practice test sections for English, science, and history. They’d left math for last. And though Rye said he liked math—numbers had always made sense to him—he seemed more tense now than he had during his last exam.
Jake figured maybe he was just tired. Or rather, that was what he hoped.
Quietly, not wanting to distract his friend, Jake pushed his chair back and stood, then moved around the table into the kitchen. The late September sunlight was just starting to fade in the early evening sky. Shirley wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours at least, and Jake knew Rye was hoping to be finished by then, and with good news that he’d passed all his practice exams in preparation for the actual exams next week.
Rye wanted his mom to be proud of him, he’d said, although Jake could sense there was something more to it than that. Rye didn’tneedthe GED for anything—not really anyway. Yet, Jake had seen the pressure Rye had been putting on himself the last couple of months as he’d studied for the exam.
The summer had been rough enough anyway, tourists flocking in not even halfway through May. Rye had only lasted a few days at the bookstore once things had gotten busy; he’d been unable to handle when the store was too busy and too many random customers came in. He’d taken to spending more time at home, which hadn’t been much easier because his mom’s hours had also increased at the store as the summer went on.
Being alone was almost as hard for Rye as being around strange people was. And not long after he’d quit at the bookstore, he’d admitted to Jake that he’d started having nightmares again—usually ones that involved him being alone, walking alone on a quiet, deserted road, then grabbed, forced into a car, taken back to that hellhole... left alone in the dark and cold for hours, days, weeks, months, years...
They’d eventually found a good medium, with Jake visiting on days when Jon or Tanya couldn’t be there. And they’d kept busy. All summer, Jake had helped Rye study for his exams, and they’d gone on walks on the beach a few times in the early morning, before the crowds had shown up. They’d gone a few times during the day, too. And they’d spent time hanging out at Jake’s house on occasion—having lunch out on the patio or hanging out inside and playing video games online with Phil. Sometimes they’d stood at the railing on the patio together, watching for dolphins and whales out in the ocean or trying to identify the birds chirping in the forest or on the cliffs above the beach.
But overall, Rye had been more reserved and quieter than he had just before summer had started. In fact, some days had been very quiet, and some days—the worst ones—Rye had barely been able to get out of bed. And when he had, it had been only for a few minutes and only to apologize for how tired he was.
Every few days, there’d been a good day, too, full of smiles and laughs and joking. Those had been fewer and farther between, however, and usually followed by apologies that every day couldn’t be good.
Regardless, Jake had kept showing up, kept being the friend he knew Rye needed. And he would continue to show up, even for the days of relative silence. Because even those days, he wouldn’t trade for anything.
