“Work waits for no woman,” she says with a buzzed grin.
After waking up this morning with a hangover from hell, I’ve sworn off alcohol and am stone cold sober—the only one here aside from the kids who is.
“Plus,” she continues, “you only have a few more days to find your mystery gold. I have to get back to Chicago.” Remy steals our attention with a loud screech as she aggressively hugs Cap; she’s drunk, and I’m quite sure it’s Darren induced. “And Remy’s probably about to have some kind of psychotic break. Do you see all those smiles?”
I laugh into her hair. “I feel bad for her.”
It’s only a few more days until I’m home, but every hug aches like a deep bruise. Every goodbye feels sad and makes me wish I could stretch out the time with all of us together like a rope of saltwater taffy.
With my mom.
With Bennie.
With my sisters and niece and nephew.
But it’s the goodbyes that aren’t mine that scrape at my insides like the prongs of a rusted rake.
Sunny—the woman who hated me days ago—hugs my family like they’re her own. Nash’s hug with Bennie turns into a laughing twirl, and her hug with Cap ends with him taking his beloved necklace from his neck and clasping it around hers. When her eyes meet mine, they’re filled with delight.
And while those two goodbyes make my heart skip a beat, it’s the one between my mom and Cap that cracks it. Because when my mom pulls away, she’s crying, Cap stroking her hair.
She forced me to Nash but is letting go of the man she’s spent her life missing. I’ll never understand it.
It’s evident they care about each other, and my mom must understand now more than ever how fleeting time is. All I can surmise is that it’s him and his obsession with the gold. We’ll find it—we have to—and then I’ll drag his salty ass back to Fontain when I go. I don’t care if he’ssick; we have doctors and a seedy underbelly that can get juice for Penny.
Eventually, we force ourselves out of the goodbyes and away from the hotel parking lot.
Sunny spills out of the car at her house with a “Fam ’bout to kill ol’ Sunny.” She snaps her fingers and shakes her hips. “See you tomorrow, Cappy baby.”
At the marina, Cap looks at me through the down window and adjusts the cane in his hands. “Thanks for the fun, kiddo.” He pinches the rim of his captain’s hat. “Nash.” He coughs. “Got a good kid.”
“Damn right I do,” Nash says from the passenger seat, a little drunk on the drinks but mostly on Bennie.
“Find the gold tomorrow?” I ask.
Cap grunts. “Might be a good day for it.”
Then he’s gone, hobbling down the dock with his cane and oxygen. Before we drive away, out the window, I yell, “Good night, Dad.”
His silhouette raises his hand, but he doesn’t look back.
That night in bed, my head on Nash’s chest as he strokes my hair with both of us halfway to sleep, like an itch I can’t scratch, something isn’t adding up.
Words my mom didn’t say colliding with words Cap did.
“Nash?”
His “Hm?” vibrates my cheek.
“That day you came back with Cap after you found me in your shower?”
His strokes on my hair go slower, his “Mhm” is sleepier.
“You said he needed to tell me something. Said if he didn’t, it would kill me.” I prop myself up on my elbows, shaking him a bit to wake him. “But when he told me my mom lied, you looked just as shocked. Why?”
“Mm,” he says without opening his eyes. “I found his medication.”
“The pills he always has with him?” I ask. “So?”
