“It did,” Dane says matter-of-factly. “And less than a year later, my mom introduces me to this guy named Silas, who she’s really, really into. I’m like, ugh—no thanks, I already have a dad, and this dude’s obviously a rebound, right?”
“…Right,” says Miguel. I don’t know where Dane’s taking this, either, but we both keep listening.
“Well, Silas ended up sticking around. They dated for a couple years, and I basically couldn’t stand him, even though my dad, not Silas, was the reason my parents broke up. Now, I’m not on the best terms with my dad, since he’s always made it clear I wasn’t the kind of son he was hoping for. But I still thought liking anything about Silas was betraying him.”
“I’m sorry,” says Miguel. “About your father, I mean.”
“Yeah, me, too,” says Dane, and there’s a skosh of sadness in his voice this time. “When I was almost done with college, my mom and Silas finally tied the knot. I came home one summer. I didn’t usually do that, I always tried to be somewhere else—but this time, I spent a couple weeks with them because my mom was really nagging me about giving Silas a chance.”
“I’m not angling to be a stepfather, Dane.”
“Dude, I hope you know that’s not my point.”
“I continue to await said point.”
Dane waves at an older couple who has just entered the store, then returns his attention to Miguel. “Turns out Silas is the bomb. Like, he knows how to get bees to make honey in his backyard and speaks all these languages, and you can ask him about, I don’t know, some obscure detail in the Constitution or the origins of punk rock and he’ll have the answer. The funny thing is, he’s a lawyer, too, and in a weird way, he helpedme understand my dad better. But he’s actually the one who told me I didn’t have to become one. He said I should go live and be happy.”
“And…are you?”
“Mostly, yeah. I’d like to fall in love again. It’s the best feeling in the world, and I’m thinking there’s some possibility that with the right person, that feeling could last a long time, just like you had with Amelia,” he says, nodding at Miguel. “Which is I guess the point I didn’t know I was trying to make. I know you miss Amelia more than anything, and that’s a sign of how solid you two were. But it’s okay to trust your feelings. The new ones, I mean.”
Miguel’s making the same twisted-lip expression Dane was earlier. “And if those feelings are in conflict with the old ones?”
“Welcome to being a human, my dude.”
His smile’s only a little sad. “Dane?”
“Yeah, chief?”
“You’re not half-bad yourself.”
Dane claps Miguel on the shoulder. “I knew you’d start to come around. I’m here if you need me.”
The phone on the wall rings loudly, startling Miguel.
Dane spins around to answer it. “Lakeside Books. Oh, hey—you don’t say! Yeah, he’s still here. I’ll put him on.” In a loud whisper, he tells Miguel, “It’s your lady friend,” and hands him the phone.
“Fiona?” he says, cradling the receiver between his ear and shoulder. “No, it’s no trouble at all. Really. Don’t move—I’ll be right there.”
He hangs up, then grabs his keys from underneath the counter. I’m already on all fours, set to go wherever it is that Fiona and Amelia Mae are surely waiting, but he doesn’t havemy leash in hand. Since his own excitement has made him impervious to subtlety, I trot beside him. But when we reach the door, he finally realizes what I’m doing and shakes his head at me. “Sorry, Harold. Given the circumstances, I think it’s best if you wait here.”
Twenty-Six
Circumstances? What circumstances could possibly require me staying away from Amelia Mae? Why are they still in town? Orarethey? Is their train stuck on the tracks farther afield? Or maybe the journey is making Fiona even more anxious, and she’s decided to borrow a car and brave the highway, or…well, I’ve run out of scenarios. Now I’d just like an answer. Better yet, I’d like to see my friend.
“I don’t know any more than you do, buddy,” says Dane as I pace back and forth in front of the window. There are lots and lots of people walking down Main Street today, which means the weekend’s either approaching or already here. Some of them are probably in from Chicago to spend some time on our beach, which I’m told is even better than the one they have (though I’m also told those are fighting words, so perhaps it’s best that I can’t say them). But I’m not looking for any old tourists.
I’m starting to get a mite dizzy from all my back-and-forthing when they finally part the throng. Miguel is carrying Fiona’s bag, and she’s clutching something that I can’t makeout; just behind them, Amelia Mae’s skipping along with her backpack slung on a shoulder. She waves when she sees me through the window.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” asks Fiona as Miguel holds the door open for her.
“Yes, of course. We’re dog-friendly.”
Well, obviously. But why does that matter?
“I just wasn’t sure what else to do,” Fiona says breathlessly to Miguel. “The conductor said we weren’t allowed on the train, and I wasn’t sure that would’ve been a good idea in the first place.”
“Seriously, it’s all right,” he assures her. “You’re always welcome here. I’m glad you called me.”
