“Not yet.”
“Fair enough.” He flashed me a smile before gesturing toward my hand. “Why do you do that counting thing with your fingers? I’ve noticed it a few times now.”
I looked down at my hand as if it were a foreign object I couldn’t comprehend. “Oh,” I said, embarrassed. “It’s silly. Just this little trick I do to make sure I’m awake. I have a lot of sleep issues.”
“Like falling asleep in public.”
“Like that,” I said, shifting my cinnamon roll box. “The finger counting... Have you ever wondered ‘am I dreaming?’ in the middle of dream, but you weren’t sure how to tell?”
“Sure?” he said, slightly skeptical.
“Well, what you can do is either find a clock or read something, or you can look at your hand. If the clock dial is melting, or you can’t read words, or you have too many fingers... you’re probably dreaming.”
“Huh,” he said. “I didn’t know that.”
“Reality check.”
“Did we pass?” he asked, eyes glinting. “Are we in a dream?”
“I’m not. Are you?”
He counted his fingers. “All there, as it should be. Thank God, because being stuck in this terminal is a little nightmarish. I’m hoping you’re feeling sorry enough for me to let me keep you company on the way back. I mean, sure. This briny island air is good for the lungs,” he said, thumping his chest with the back of his fist as he inhaled deeply through his nostrils. “But I don’t think I can stick around for a third ferry.”
Daniel was wrong: I didn’t feel sorry for him. I felt... happy to see him. Surprisingly happy. Our unfinished argument back in the park that night had felt like the giant Fremont Troll had left its home under the bridge across the city and was clinging to my shoulders, but now that I saw with my own eyes that we were going to be okay, that ugly bridge troll was suddenly several pounds lighter.
“I’m glad you came out here,” I said shyly, surprising both of us. “I even brought you a peace offering.”
“You did?”
I nodded. “Come on. The ferry waits for no one.”
We hurriedly boarded the green-and-whiteTacoma, making it aboard right at the two-minute cutoff before sailing. It was more crowded than usual, but even so, there were a dozen nooks and crannies to find peace and quiet. And after we passed through the main floor, which looked a bit like an airport waiting area, we stopped off at the food counter to purchase hot coffee and tea. Then we found an empty booth near a window that overlooked the sundeck and settled in for the half-hour ride to the city.
June Gloom was in full effect. Not even a sliver of sunshine peeked through gray clouds, and all the kids running around the breezy outdoor deck on the other side of our window were armored in windbreakers and lightweight hoodies. But at least it wasn’t drizzling, and as the ferry glided away from the island, I pointed out my house on the beach. When it passed from view, Daniel waxed poetic over the ferry’s amenities: “It has hot tater totsandWi-Fi?” This was far better than sitting in traffic for half an hour, he informed me.
Having never sat in much traffic, I wouldn’t know. But we compared commutes, and before I knew it, we were chatting nonstop. About his family and mine. About work. About all the shops he’d seen walking around the marina and downtown, wasting time that afternoon between ferries.
And about the glory of Bainbridge cinnamon rolls.
“Dear God,” he murmured, licking icing off the side of his finger.
“Few things are better,” I confirmed.
“Almost as good as breakfast pie at the Moonlight.”
“I needed the sugar,” I admitted. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“You never sleep well,” he said, squinting at me.
Honestly, I was starting to think that the graveyard shift at the hotel was making my sleep problems worse. It was the first time I’d been forced to stick to a rigid schedule beyond my grandma’s homeschooling lessons, and I felt as if I were existing in a world between sleep and wakefulness.
“Do you ever have dreams where you wake up, or you think you do, but you’re still dreaming?” I asked Daniel.
“Once, when I was a kid.”
“Well, that’s been happening to me a lot lately. I’ve always had crazy dreams. Really vivid. Sometimes when I’m dozing off, I start dreaming so fast, I can’t tell if I’m still awake.”
“The finger counting,” he said.
