“Ethan’s family is going to host a party at the end of the summer, when the comet first becomes visible,” Dad said.
I chanced a glance at Ethan. “Are they super into astronomy or something?”
“I don’t think you need to be super into astronomy to be excited about Gibson’s comet.” Ethan sounded amused. Which, fair. The comet wasn’t as famous as Halley’s, but Gibson’s was still familiar to most people, and with a thirty-eight-year orbitalperiod, it showed up more frequently. It was the parent body of the Arborids, one of the summer’s brightest meteor showers, visible when Earth passed through the debris left from the comet’s tail. “And Gibson visited Nantucket.”
“Really?” I hadn’t known that—didn’t know anything about the origin of the comet’s name, actually. I didn’t even know who Gibson was. “When?”
“Early nineteen hundreds,” Ethan said promptly. He shot a grin at my dad. The ease and familiarity made my stomach clench with jealousy. “He’s in the book.”
My gaze pinged back and forth between the two of them. My dad’s first book had been about early maritime navigation and surveying; a good bulk of it had to do with Benjamin Franklin and his great-grandson Bache, who’d been the superintendent of the US Coastal Survey. I hadn’t read it, but I knew it alternated between chapters where my dad tried out historical methods and chapters about the people who pioneered them. His second book would be on the same themes, but focus on other people and centuries.
“Oh?” I tried not to let my dismay show at how well Ethan fit into my father’s world. “Why’s he in it?”
“Gibson worked for Captain Heck, who developed wire-drag surveying.” At my blank look, Ethan added, “Wire-dragging revolutionized hydrography. It was way faster than anything they’d used before.”
Literally nothing he said made any sense to me. I felt a surge of panic. Was this what I should be learning if I wanted a conversation with Dad to flow? I’d thought I could spend this summerworking with him, but would he even want my help when I had no idea about all the topics and people in his research?
“Ethan’s helping me with Heck’s chapter.” Dad smiled. “He’s writing an insert on Gibson’s work, prior to his discovery of the comet and setting up his foundation.”
Dad’s proud tone hit me like a punch. When was the last time Dad had sounded proud of me? Worried, yes. Alarmed, sure. Happy, entertained, pleased—all good things. But proud?
I wasn’t sure I’d ever made my father proud.
“Cool,” I said softly, because I wasn’t sure what else to say. Why hadn’t I paid more attention to my father’s work? Now I didn’t speak the same language as him, and it made me feel slow and stupid and sad.
For the rest of the meal, I was silent, while Dad and Ethan talked about their research plans for the upcoming week. I toyed with the remnants of my meal, relieved when the server finally brought the check. We headed to the car, and Ethan and I both automatically went for the passenger’s seat. I jolted back. My heart beat hard, disproportional to the small event. I wrapped my arms around my stomach. Ethan thought he belonged up front. Ethan probablydidbelong up front. He’d have more to talk about with my dad than I did. And this car belonged to his family.
Ethan raised his hands and stepped back. “All yours.”
I nodded slowly. I almost wanted to cry.
It was past eight when we arrived at Golden Doors, but the sun was only just setting. Soft pinks and blues brushed the sky, and cotton-candy clouds drifted over the sea. I worried at the inside of my cheeks with my molars. This was it, then.
Dad parked the car, and all three of us climbed out. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay,” he said, dorkily as always, “you kids have fun, now!”
Ethan said goodbye and headed for the front door. I followed Dad to his bike, feeling like a little kid dropped off at kindergarten for the first time. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I said, hating the nervous note in my voice.
“We’ll get dinner,” Dad promised.
“Okay.” I waited another moment, wanting to postpone the inevitable, wanting to suggest going to Dad’s rented studio and watching a movie, or going for another walk around the island—anything to avoid being left on my own at this giant house. But we’d already fought about this over and over. “See you later, then.”
Dad smiled awkwardly, clambering onto his bike. “Good night.”
“Night.”
Dad peddled into the darkness. With a sigh, I turned around—and found Ethan standing on the porch, staring at me.
“All right,” he said, coming down the steps. “What’s going on?”
Uh-oh.“What do you mean?”
“You liked me plenty on the boat, and now you don’t. What happened?”
“Nothing happened. I didn’t know who you were, is all.”
“What’s that have to do with anything?” he asked.
I looked past him, at the delicate blossoms flowering on bushes, inhaling the green, vibrant scent of summer carried by the warmbreeze. “Like you said. I wouldn’t have made out with you if I knew who you are.”
