Olivia looked over at me. “Change your mind about playing for us?”
“I’d probably suck even if I wanted to,” I said. “I haven’t played for anyone in years.”
“Eh, it’s a pretty easy arrangement.”
I opened my mouth to say no, then paused. “I wouldn’t want to screw you guys up if you’ve already practiced with your mom playing...”
Olivia leaned forward. “Oh my god, no, pretty sure she’ll be so busy hosting she’s going to play it from the stereo if her dignity allows.”
“Well... if you want to send the sheet music over...”
“Yes!” she squealed. “Maybe you can also wear a tutu.”
“Pass.”
Olivia and Jackson headed back to her place, and Tyler and I drove out to Madaket to walk along the beach. Papery grass grew between the cliffs and the water’s edge, and brown seaweed lay on the sand. The world was carved in four: the land, the sea, the shore, the sky. White crests lapped against the sand. The wind whipped across the Atlantic, harsher than on the other side of the island, uninterrupted for thousands of miles. We bent our heads as we walked, hats pulled low, everything all dull yellows and gray greens, clouds streaking the washed-out sky.
Then the setting sun emerged from behind a cloud, fierce and blinding. It made the ocean unbearable to look at. The white-hot reflection of the sun stretched to the shore, seeming to come right to our feet. I looked at Tyler. I wanted to ask him what we were doing, what hewantedto be doing. Though maybe he didn’t plan so far out; maybe he was simply enjoying the time we had before we returned home. Was the secret to happiness doing what you wanted in the moment and not worrying about the future? Not dwelling on the past if it didn’t work out?
“Are you happy?” I asked.
“Very existential.” Our feet left prints in the hard, wet sand. “Do you mean right now or in a larger sense?”
God, I didn’t know. “A larger sense.”
“I’m generally happy,” he said. “I wasn’t as a kid because first I was bullied, and then I thought everyone was stupid, butnow... NYU’s pretty great. I feel free to act however I want since no one expects anything from me.”
The blank slate of college. It sounded amazing. If I wasn’t aloof Shira Barbanel, who could I be? “Do you act differently than in high school? Less... polished?”
He shot me a wry glance. “I guess I still... prefer to ask people about their interests instead of tell them about mine, but it feels better than it used to. I think because I’m more interested in what they have to say than I used to be.”
“How so?”
He shrugged. “When I started high school, I asked people questions to draw them out, to get them comfortable and liking me, not because I cared. I thought people were boring, basic. Now I like talking to people about their passions. Makes them come alive. And you learn something.”
“But you should also be talking aboutyourpassions.”
“In my defense, they don’t usually ask.”
“I’llask,” I said, feeling oddly protective of him. “Hey, Tyler. Bake anything exciting lately? Read anything good?”
He burst into laughter.
“What?” I fought back a grin. “I’m serious! I want to know what you’re reading.”
“I know you are.” He reached out and tucked a curl behind my ear, and I froze, startled by the intimacy of the gesture. “I’m rereading Squirrel Girl, a series from when I was a kid—I havesome of the collections here. And my moms gave me theBread Baker’s Biblefor Christmas, so I’ve been reading the intro.” He tilted his head. “Why are you asking about being happy?”
I didn’t move, unwilling to when we stood so close. “My grandmother and I were talking. She said it’s not easy to be happy. And...” I hesitated, looking out at the sea, squinting at the sun. “I was thinking about how I’m happy on Nantucket but not so much when I’m not here. But also about what I need to be happy. I used to think I needed somethingepic.”
“Like how you felt about skating?” he asked.
“Yeah. Something... capable of filling every hour of every day. Something burned into my muscles and my mind. But—those things burned me out, too. They burned away my joy in them.”
Maybe something less obliterating would actually make me happier.
“So what do you want now?”
I looked at the water, now the color of sea glass—translucent green, a sheen of gold sun glossing over a streak at the horizon—then back at him. “Maybe the same things as before but with less pressure? Maybe the people who I like being around.” I swallowed. “You make me happy.”
