“You okay over there?” Beau asks. It’s not enough for me to fix my face, which is probably flat and lifeless and—heaven forbid—even less attractive because of it. Who cares?
“No. I just really wanted that happy ending, you know? As a school librarian, I’ve been reading fairy-tale endings to kids for years, telling them how life offers a series of happy endings, not just one. But this …”
“He’s a jackhole, you know that, right—for doing this to you?”
Tears sting my eyes. I cover my face as my emotions, hot and raging, get the best of me. “We made itthis far,” I say through tears. “I get a few more years with Jack at home, and now, because of selfish nasty greedy, greedy Greg I’m going to get half of that. And Jack will be devastated. What ifthisis what sends him spiraling into a world of alcohol and drugs? Or what if he becomes a cheating D-bag like his father?”
“Neither of those things are going to happen,” Beau says. “But if they did, that wouldn’t be your fault. Or even Greg’s. Ever hear about the twins with the alcoholic father?”
I glance over. Beau’s not looking my way, just setting up the telescope as he speaks.
“One became an alcoholic, the other refused to touch the stuff and went on to be a huge success. When asked why they ended up the way they had, each twin produced the same answer with a different explanation. My father was an alcoholic. One let that catapult himself in the opposite direction; one chose to repeat the pattern.”
“Hmm.” I nod as I process the tale. “That’s really insightful.” I don’t mean to sound surprised, but the truth is, Iam.
“But honestly, whatever you’re doing with Jack—it’s working. I’m impressed by the kid. He’s confident enough to befriend a less-popular Lenny and cool enough to pull it off and make the others want to follow suit. I admire that.”
I recall the tiny capsules we bought when Jack was a kid. The way they transformed when we dropped them into the sink, absorbing enough water to morph into something new and unique. It’s been ages since I’ve heard a compliment about my parenting from someone other than teachers or youth pastors. Jack’s on his best behavior at school and church, but to hear it from the parent of one of his friends—that’s different.
“Thank you,” I say. “Parker’s a great kid too. I’m glad he and Jack have been hanging out more this year.” I consider how nice it is that the two got voted into office together. Teenagers who are respectful and kind, great examples to their school class. It gives me confidence in his generation.
“I’m glad too. Especially since it got him to finally stop hanging out with Griz. That kid was trouble.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Seriously. I texted his mom for their address so we could send him a party invite, and guess what address she gave me.”
Beau squats down to check the view from his iPhone, which is, with the help of an attachment, mounted against the lens of the telescope. “Where was it?” he asks.
I give it to him in one word. “Juvie.”
Beau barks out a laugh. “Juvie, oh man. Do people still use that term?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. I hope he turns his life around, though. He could really be something, you know?” I think of the magnetic spark Griz carries when he enters a room.
“Now I see where Jack gets it,” Beau says. Before I can ask what he means, his phone chimes. He narrows his eyes at the screen. “She’s leaving the restaurant.”
“Your phone alerts you?” I ask.
He nods. “If I ask it to, yes, so long as she doesn’t block me. I’ve been questioning her more than usual, which I think encouraged her to be honest aboutwhereshe was going this time. She’s trying to earn a little good faith. Of course, she’s never admitted to blocking me in the first place, but I know better.”
The light is fading quickly. The warmth from the sun is too. I untie the sweatshirt around my waist and shrug into it.
Beau has me check out the view he set up. I’m impressed by how well we can see the pools from this angle. Right now, it seems that families with little ones are packing up and calling it a day. Soon, the crowd will likely look very different. An older, more adult crew coming for an evening of relaxation, drinks, and lounging in the moonlight between dips in each pool.
Beau tracks Trish’s trip to the resort, much closer now.
I’m an electric bundle of nerves. My anxiety cranks up a notch with every minute that passes by. I’m about to see what I do not want to see. Or maybe I’m not. Maybe we’ve been wrong all along.
We haven’t.
“Where’d you get the telescope?” I ask. I’ve been wondering since he set the thing up because he looked very comfortable with it. Pulling it from its case in pieces, deftly fashioning it together, tipping it right toward the stars, and taking a look.
“I’ve had it since I was ten. Was a gift from my father. We’d stargaze, he and I. I’m the only kid who took to it. Parker liked it better when he was young. Paige can’t get enough. Especially when we climb onto the roof of my office building.”
The image his words paint in my mind go straight to my desperate, aching heart. Greg used to spend time with Jack. “I love that,” I can’t help but say.
Beau shrugs. “It never did impress Trish. I took her to my favorite outlook one night. Think it was like our fourth or fifth date. I had a picnic set up too. When it was dark enough, I had her check out some of my favorite constellations. I started telling her the story behind Orion’s Belt, you know, and before I could even get into it, she put her hand up to stop me.‘Sorry,’”he says, employing a nasally female voice, “‘but I’m already tuning you out. I don’t have the headspace for things that don’t interest me.’”
I pull a cringe face. “And you still married her.”
