“Scared. But also excited. I’ve always wanted to live in Somerville. It’s more vibrant than where we live now—where we grew up. I’m ready for something different. I’m ready to give my children a different life than the one we had. I think it’s nice for kids to grow up with all that life around them.”
I squeeze my sister tightly. Everything’s changing. “You’re right. Mom’s going to go apeshit,” I say.
Katherine sighs. “I know. But with Ed in my corner, I’m okay with that.”
I’m so proud of Katherine. I’m not sure I’ve ever deliberately done something I know Mom would disapprove of. Even thinking about coming to Boston and staying with Katherine makes me feel slightly queasy. There’s something in me that’s like a safety switch that deliberately shorts the circuit if I ever try to do something that doesn’t comply with what Mom wants.
“She’ll probably try and get you to move back to Massachusetts,” Katherine says.
I groan. “You’re going to have to help me stand up to her if she does. I don’t want to leave New York.”
“I won’t let you leave New York. Your career is there. Your friends are there.Hunteris there.” She laughs. She knows she’s being ridiculous.
But still, she’s right. I have a life in New York. With Katherine moving away from Duxbury and away from Mom and Dad, it might mean Mom turns her attention to my living situation. The last thing I want to do is leave New York City. Like, I can’t think of anything worse than moving back to Boston. So why am I dreading the potentialconversation? Surely it’s a quickNever going to happen, Mom.Or, at least, it should be. If I knew where the line was, like Hunter said last night, I wouldn’t be wasting time thinking about Mom putting pressure on me to come back to Massachusetts. But I’ve never seen the line before—never looked for it. Never been able to justify putting myself or my needs before my mother or her needs. But thinking about leaving New York makes the line light up in glowing neon.
There’s no way I could ever leave New York City.
Chapter Fifteen
Hunter
Nothing about fishing is enjoyable to me. The fucking boat is a problem, for a start. Despite taking motion sickness pills I got from Ed, I don’t feel great. My stomach has been churning since my feet touched the jetty. And then there’s the stench of fish. How is this meant to be relaxing? All I can smell is fish, and all I can see are glassy-eyed dead bodies while the horizon dances around like it’s at Coachella. Super enjoyable.
I glance back to the beach. I swear I could dive off the boat and swim back to shore from here. I’m so tempted. I wonder what Lucy has arranged for the girls this morning. Talking to her last night, things felt so open between us. Like despite our pillow wall, we had none of the emotional walls between us that couples usually do at the beginning of a relationship. Maybe it’s because we’re not really dating, but I don’t think that’s it. I think it’s because Lucy can’t hide her feelings. And knowing who she really is—at her core—makes me feel like I can show her everything too. I don’t think I’ve ever had that with anyone. Maybe that’s why I held back from launching myself over the pillow wall between us and kissing her. I don’t think I’ve ever had sex combined with emotional intimacy before, and I don’t know where it would lead.
Something begins to tug on my rod, interrupting my thoughts. I sigh and ignore it. I don’t actually want to catch a fish. It’s gross. Let the damn things just swim around, living their best lives, and let’s go have a beer. That’s my philosophy on fishing. But no one’s interested. Everyone’s having the best time. Ed has already caught two small bass. One had to be thrown back. The other was big and is in the bucket behind me.
“Hey, Hunter. Did you catch something?” Ed nods toward my line off the back of the boat.
“Oh,” I say, like I’m just noticing. “Maybe?”
The fishing guide, Brice, comes over. “Can you bring her in? Or do you need a hand?”
Despite not liking fishing, I’ve done it enough to know how to reel in a fish. I set to work, pulling my rod up, keeping tension on the line while reeling and reeling. I can tell by the tug that it’s going to be a big one. The fish breaks the water before pulling my rod and going under again. But not before I caught a glimpse. It’s a striped bass. “Looks and feels like a cow,” I say.
“A cow?” Ed asks.
“Striped bass over twenty-five pounds,” Brice says. “You know your fish, son.”
Brice grabs one of the larger nets and positions it over the side. I pull up my rod. The fish is thrashing on the line, trying to get free, but my brain is hard-wired to do this. I caught my first fish at five years old. I’m not going to let this fucker go. It’s a big one, and I want to be able to tell my dad I caught it before I let it go.
I pull again, and Brice is ready with the net. I wind like mad and bring it clear out of the water. Brice scoops it up in the net.
“That’s a nice fish,” Brice says. “Haven’t seen one landed that big by a tourist in a while.”
Brice sets to work getting it out of the net and on the scale. I figure it’s got to be at least thirty pounds.
“Is that a fluke?” Ed asks. “Have you fished before?”
I shrug. “A little. With my dad when I was a kid.”
“I didn’t know that. Honestly, I thought you were a little squeamish about it.”
I’m not about to tell Ed I’d be happy if I never held another fishing rod in my life. But I don’t want him to feel bad about today’s trip. He’s clearly having fun, and that’s the aim of this weekend, right?
Brad starts to shout. “I got one! It’s strong.”
Brice leaves my cow on the deck of the boat, flailing around. Everyone’s attention goes to Brad.
