I’m rocking slowly back and forth in the rocking chair on the screened-in porch. It’s chilly and the only body parts that arewarm are my hands, because they’re wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee. The sun is going to rise soon.
She hasn’t texted. She hasn’t called. Levi did, so I know she got the ticket and the note. But I have no idea if she’s going to come. The realization that she might not creates a pain in my chest that’s suffocating, and it’s why I couldn’t sleep. I hear a racket inside the cottage. My parents’ bedroom is just inside the front door, to the right of the living room. I stop rocking and listen.
Their door creaks, and then I hear the sound that’s become too familiar. The thump and shuffle of my dad and his walker. “I’m fine, Enid. Go back to sleep. I’ll holler if I need help.”
His voice is scratchy from sleep and hard from the fact that he hates the way everyone has to fuss over him now. I decide not to get up and go see him. It’ll only annoy him more. So I start rocking again and sip my coffee. A minute later he’s in the doorway. His walker makes a thump as it hits the old wood plank floor. I look up. “Morning, Dad. Want some coffee?”
I had planned ahead, knowing he’d probably be the first one up and he likes having his coffee on the deck;I’d brought out a full thermos and an extra cup. He smiles at me with the same big, mischievous grin I inherited. But I don’t know if I’d still have it after a diagnosis like his. He really is my fucking hero.
“You’re up early. If there wasn’t hockey practice, I used to have to tip your bed to get you out of it before noon.”
I chuckle. “You only tipped the bed once in my entire life.”
“Yeah, but I’ll never let you forget it.” He chuckles too. I notice his words aren’t slurring like they tend to first thing in the morning or late at night. I know it just means he’s having a good day and nothing’s actually changed, but it still makes me happy. I pour him a coffee as he clumsily makes his way into the rocking chair next to mine. I’d already blended it with organic butter, so it comes out frothy and hot, thanks to the thermos. I introduced him to what’s called bulletproof coffee this past summer because it’s supposed to be good for the brain.
He smiles and takes a sip. “Butter in coffee. Who knew?”
We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, both of us rocking and drinking our java. I try not to think of the fact that I might not have many more mornings like this left with him. But then the only other thing my brain wants to focus on is Zoey, and that hurts too. Fuck…why does everything have to suck?
“The sun is starting to rise,” he murmurs, bringing my focus to something that doesn’t suck. “Sunrises are always so damn amazing down at the beach.”
My dad used to wake up for sunrise every single day we spent down here. When I was a kid, I just didn’t get it. I loved sleeping in, but I never got to do it much thanks to hockey practices. And at home my dad usually worked the early shift and had to be at work by six in the morning, so he never got to sleep in. That’s why the fact that he still got up at the crack of dawn here on vacation always confused me.
I put my mug down on the ledge of the table between our rockers. “Wanna go see it on the beach?”
He smiles, but it’s fleeting. “I can’t manage it anymore, Jude.”
I stand up. He’s wearing a gray tracksuit. I’m in a pair of sweats too and a Thunder hoodie. I clap my hands. “We’re going to the beach!”
“Jude.” He shakes his head. “I’d love to, but I can’t manage that boardwalk, and the sand is too uneven for my walker.”
“I’ll piggyback you up and down the boardwalk, and there are benches right there at the dunes. It’ll be great. Come on!” I say and wait for him to consider it. He’s a proud man. I know the idea of his son carrying him isn’t a pleasant one, but who the fuck cares if he gets to see the damn sunrise the way he loves.
He puts his mug next to mine and then leans forward, hands on his walker in front of him. He looks up at me. “Can you grab my camera off the desk?”
I’m grinning as I nod and dart inside to grab it. Ten minutes later I’m panting like I’ve played every shift in an entire game. My arms and back are burning from the exertion, but my dad is sitting on the bench at the end of the boardwalk smiling and snapping pictures as the sun crests the ocean.
“This never gets old.” He sighs and snaps another shot before resting the camera on his lap. He glances over at me. “So why were you up so early?”
“Lot on my mind.” I shrug and watch the sky start to turn pink and purple.
“A lot of pretty redhead?” he inquires, and I turn to stare at him. “I might have heard Dixie telling Winnie things got botched up with the Quinlin girl.”
Goddamn Dixie. “Yeah.”
“A little?”
“Maybe a lot.” I sigh and lean my elbows on my knees. I point. “You’re missing it.”
He looks out at the sunrise but moves his hand to my shoulder. “You’re more important than some colors in the sky, Jude.”
I smile. I can’t lose him—not ever. But especially not if I don’t have her. I feel a wave of sadness and fight the tears it wants to bring. I do not cry. Not ever and especially not in front of Dad. He’s got enough shit to deal with. “I’m trying to fix it. And even if this first attempt fails I’ll try again.”
He nods and lifts his camera to grab a couple more shots. Then he puts it down and rests his hand on my shoulder. “I think it’ll work out. I always liked that girl.”
“Me too.” I sigh and sit up and take his camera from him. It’s digital but kind of old. I have to remember to get him a new one for his birthday next month. I turn it and aim it at us.
“What are you doing?” he wants to know as I lean into him.
