Aftermydrive,whilelooking for a piece of paper, I find one of my mom’s notebooks. She always seemed to have one with her. Jotting down ideas, to-do lists, things she wanted to get back to. It’s pretty unremarkable in the sense that it’s just a plain black notebook, one she would’ve kept in her purse if she had the chance.
Expecting it to be empty, I’m surprised to see her feminine and loopy writing inside. The title has me smiling and is like a punch to the gut at the same time: Golden Harbor Things for Colson.
There’s only a few things under the title, but it’s clear she was thinking of things we’d do together when we made it back here. During the off-season, I was planning to come up for a two week stretch, get a propervacation. The thought of her making this list, taking up the space on the first page of a notebook, also means it was probably going to be her summer journal.
My mom loved keeping a journal for each season—I have a whole box of them packed up at her house. When I started going through her things, packing boxes to keep or donate, I found a spot in her closet where she kept them all. She managed to fill them almost all the way up, some having more empty pages in the back than others, but this was one of her most consistent habits.
My lips turn up through the wave of sadness running over me, trying to take me out at the knees. It makes me happy, seeing her writing, thinking of her planning things for us.
The page reads:
-cherry pit-sunset-floral arrangements at harbor blooms-the basement
I don’t even know what “cherry pit” means but I have this rush of needing to figure it out. I may have been looking for a piece of paper to make a to-do list, small projects I wanted to do around here, but it seems like I found something else.
There’s no reason I can’t do these things now. Right? It would’ve been better with her, that’s for damn sure, but it’s like fate kind of gave me something to look forward to.
And for now, that seems like enough to keep going.
twelve
Sadie
WhyisColsonwaitingfor me?
I’m pulling into the rec center and can see Colson, his back against the building. He keeps tucking his hair behind his ears, like he might be a little nervous. My stomach flips when I turn the car off.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him since we were at the beach. It was the weekend, the rec center was closed, and I had no idea if he’d show up again. But here he is, bright and early on this Monday morning.
"What do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, putting a little smile on my lips.
Colson takes a few steps toward me, grabbing one of the bags hanging from my shoulders as I put my key in the lock at the front door.
“Wanted to catch you before you got too busy.” His face is softer than I’m used to, blue eyes switching between me and the ground.
The lock clicks, so I push in prop the door open, needing to let some fresh air in the gym.
We walk to my office, where I set everything down, and then I ask, “What’s up?” I rest a hand on my hip, needing to do something with them before I start to fidget.
Colson rubs his hands together and then jumps in. “Thank you. For the other night.”
“It’s no problem. Seriously. Someone has to protect you from rogue waves—Golden Harbor takes its hospitality very seriously,” I joke, lifting my hands up.
He lets out a small laugh, breaking the tension a bit. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here. This house was my mom’s. It was one of the only places I knew to go once everything happened.” Pausing, his eyes hit the floor before locking on mine.
I nod, wanting him to continue. His mom... Was. Oh no.
“And, I know I’ve been rough. Or pouty. Or—”
“You are a master scowler, but continue,” I interrupt.
“You’ve been kind to me. In a way that you didn’t have to be. And you keep doing it. And… I just wanted to say thank you.”
My chest warms as he strings the words together. It feels like a type of conversation he’s practiced. Or at least thought through. Not to be performative, but for him to be more comfortable.
“I’m going to be better. Or, I’m going to try. Fuck, I have a lot to figure out. And scowling actually wasn’t getting me all that far.”
“Well, if your scowl can’t do much, not sure anyone’s could. Like I said… master level.” I shift my weight on my heels.
