He shook his head.
Okay. Baffling, but…“Practice on me.”
He gave me a look, skepticism only barely outweighing hope. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not. It’ll make you feel better.”
He hesitated. “It’s not ready.”
“It’ll never be ready,” I said, having watched my dad prepare plenty of book talks throughout the last few years. “It’s important to practice before a live audience.”
His mouth quirked. “You’re a bit of a tyrant.”
“Tell me I’m wrong, then.”
He couldn’t. Taking a deep breath, he flicked through his phone and propped it on his knee so he could read off it. “Here goes.” He plunged in. “Hi, there. My name is Ethan Barbanel, and I’m excited to talk to you today about Frederick Gibson’s work. Famously known for discovering a comet, Gibson devoted his earlier career to wire-dragging alongside Nicholas Heck, some of which work he did here, on Nantucket.”
Despite his nerves, he’d crafted a compelling speech. I could see my dad’s print in the flow of sentences and the insertion of anecdotes, but other parts were all Ethan—the humor, the excitement, the energy. When he finished, I applauded. “That was great!”
His lips twitched. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Maybe. But I’m also being honest. Dad’s dragged me to enough talks I know a good one when I see it.”
He relaxed. “I bet you have suggestions. Your dad always does.”
“One or two. But it really was good.”
“I can take it.”
“Let me see the speech.”
He offered me his phone. I scrolled to the beginning. “Okay, so you have a really strong opening, but then I’d move this paragraph up above this one…”
We spent an hour on his speech as the meteors flashed above us. Eventually, we faded into silence, watching the darting light against the darkness. Tomorrow would be the best day for watching, since we’d be at the farthest point from land, before turning back the day after. Still, tonight still topped any meteor shower I’d ever seen.
“Gary knew my mom.” The words slipped out. I hadn’t meant to say them, but now they floated between us.
“Really?” Even in the darkness, I could see Ethan’s head turn toward mine. “How?”
“I don’t know. He said my dad was an old friend. And that I looked like my mom.”
“Wow. Are you going to ask him about it?”
I gave a half shrug. “I was thinking I’d ask my dad first. I just…haven’t.”
“How come?”
I wrapped my arms around my knees and pulled them close. “I guess I’m not used to talking about her? It feels like there’s two different worlds, this one and the one before my mom died. And it’s a world I know very little about, but everyone else knows, everyone else visited, so they don’t need to talk about it because they already know it. But I don’t. So I want to talk about it, but I don’t know how.”
Ethan sat up too, nodding as though my rambling made sense. “She died when you were pretty young, right?”
“Four.”
“Do you remember her?”
I gazed at the sky. “Sometimes I think I do, but sometimes I wonder if I just remember stories my dad and aunt have told me. But I think…I remember her reading me Spot the Dog books. I remember playing dress-up and showing her each of my new outfits—a princess or a firefighter or whatever—and she was like, ‘Wow, where did my Jordan go?’ and I was worried because I thought I’d disguised myself too well and now she was scared.”
Ethan laughed.
