“I amnotin video-ready condition,” I said. Ethan smirked. “Especially not if you’re posting this anywhere.”
“You look beautiful,” Dad said, because he was contractually obligated to do so via the Parenting Handbook.
Despite myself, I glanced at Ethan, but of course he didn’t agree with my dad. I didn’twanthim to agree, didn’t want to be thinking about whether Ethan found me beautiful or not. I smoothed the mess of my hair gathered on the top of my head. If this was what Dad always did, I could be cool about it. “Fine.”
Dad held up a triangular piece of a wood, both for me and for the camera. A rope was tied to one point and led back to a giant spool of rope, bulky with knots. “This is called a common log,a chip log, a ship log—or just a log. We’ll drop it to float in the water, and let out the rope as the current carries us away.” He held up a brass hourglass. “When we start, we’ll turn this hourglass. When it runs out, we’ll gather the rope back and count how many knots have passed through.” He lifted the hourglass in one hand, wooden plank in the other. “Who wants which?”
I took the plank of wood and Ethan, the hourglass. I was more excited than expected, like a little kid about to do the baking-soda-volcano thing. “All right,” Dad said. “On the count ofone, two, three, go, turn the glass and drop the plank.”
Ethan and I exchanged anticipatory grins.
“One, two, three,go!” Dad cried. I dropped the plank into the water and watched the rope unspooling away from it, then glanced over at the sand crystals sifting down the hourglass. It was silly and bright and joy-inducing, and the sun on my face and salt on my lips made me want to stay out on the water forever. I could see why Ethan and Dad had so much fun doing these kinds of re-creations. It felt like playing, like a game I might have done as a child.
When the hourglass ran out, we towed the plank back in and excitedly counted all the knots, nodding firmly at each other as though the amount meant something to us. Then Dad disappeared again, back to the prow of the boat, notebook in hand.
“What’s he doing now?” I asked Ethan, somewhat surprised we weren’t repeating the experiment or heading home.
“He likes to write the first draft when he’s doing the experiment,” Ethan said. “He says he’s motivated. Good atmosphere.” He grinned. “And we get to spend more time on the water.”
“Can’t disagree there.” I raised my face to the sun. It bleached the inside of my eyes and waged war against my sunscreen. I thought about how this, like Andrea Darrel’s excitement about college, transcended centuries. Someone in the 1890s, or the 1500s, or a thousand years ago could have felt the same joy as I did from the sun on their face and the rocking of a boat.
By the time we made it back to the island and headed to dinner, I felt deeply content and unexpectedly tired. I wasn’t used to the uninterrupted sun, the wind chafing at my skin, the rise and fall of the ocean—let alone hoisting sails or controlling the boom. But I’d liked it. I’d liked hanging out with Dad and Ethan.
Maybe this was how it could be.
“Ethan and I are getting dinner and then going back to the office,” Dad said as we docked. “Want to join us for dinner?”
And just like that, my stomach seized.
DidIwant to go withthemto get dinner. Because they were the ones with the preexisting plans; they’d be going back to the office to keep working. I could join them or not, and it didn’t really matter to Dad one way or another.
The pilot light of my jealousy flared higher. “I’ll pass. I told Abby I’d meet her and her friends for dinner tonight, anyway.”
“Okay,” Dad said, nodding and already turning toward Ethan to talk about food choices. It made my gut twist even more. He didn’t even want to try to convince me to change my mind. I stuffed my water bottle and sunscreen into my tote, trying not to let my hands shake. It was fine. So I was the extra wheel. Whatever.
I did get dinner with Abby and Stella, and Stella’s girlfriend Lexi, and Abby’s roommate Jane, and it was nice, and by the endI felt stable again. I needed to let go of wanting Dad to pay more attention to me. It was probably good he didn’t depend on me, right? I mean, obviously I wished he’d pick me over Ethan, but I’d be going to UMass in a few months. It was good he didn’t only rely on me.
And if I didn’t want him to lean on Ethan, I’d have to find someone else to occupy his time.
***
On Friday morning, I turned to Cora. “Any plans this weekend?”
I thought she and Dad could be a good match. I didn’t know ifthey’dthink so—the only thing I knew about Cora’s romantic life was she’d once gone on a date with a guy she’d cross the street to avoid—but they were both nerdy, kind, driven, smart people. So I didn’t mind trying my hand at yenta-ing.
Cora looked up from a notepad filled with erratic equations. “More work, I guess. Catching up on sleep, if I’m lucky.”
“The Barbanels are having a party tomorrow at five,” I said. Apparently they always had one for the official start of summer at the end of June. “You should come.”
She looked horrified. “Oh, no, thanks.”
“It’ll be fun.” I paused. “Or maybe it won’t. Honestly, who’s to say? But it’ll definitely be an experience. And the Barbanels told me I should invite you, and anyone you want to bring.”
“They did?”
Well, Miriam had said there’d be around a hundred people atthe party, so I was pretty sure no one would notice an additional two or three. “Yeah.”
“I’ll think about it.”
