“Do you? Feel lighter here?”
“Sometimes.” He pauses for a moment. “But I’m still going back for school.” The way he says it makes me think it’s more a reminder for him than for me.
We’re quiet for a bit. I never realized how hard it is to watch someone hurt and yet be completely helpless. I know I can’t bring his dad back, but I can’t even offer him the one thing at my disposal—comfort.
Maybe just being here next to him is enough.
“This was his,” he says, and I look over to find him pulling the thin silver necklace out from underneath his shirt. “I found it in the couch cushions during the move. I didn’t even think about it—I just put it on. I haven’t taken it off since.”
“I like it,” I say. I thought it looked good on him the first time I noticed it. “So, do you let yourself think about him a little, now?” I’m no therapist, but it seems like that’s the healthy thing to do. In reality I have no idea how I’d react if I lost one of my parents, but I’d like to think I’d keep the happy memories, at the very least. I think my parents would want that.
“Yeah. Once I wasn’t being punched in the gut with his absence all the time, I actually started missing the memories just as much as I missed him. Sometimes they still make me sad, but some of them make me smile. I like it when they do.”
“What’s one that makes you smile?”
He chuckles right away but doesn’t elaborate.
“What is it? Tell me,” I urge. “Whatever came to your mind first has got to be a good one.”
“It’s kind of gross,” he warns.
“I can handle it, I promise.” I hope I’m not lying. For Gregory, in this moment, I’m willing to risk it.
“So there was one night we were in his man cave in the basement watching a movie. I don’t know where my mom was… probably we’d picked some scary movie she didn’t want to see or something. But we’re sitting down there, and suddenly I notice this weird smell. At first it was more strange than bad, but it just kept getting worse. I looked at my dad, and he had this guilty look on his face. You know, like he was watching me out of the corner of his eye, like he was waiting to see if I’d notice? So I asked if he farted.” He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “He tried to deny it, but by this point I could barely breathe. I put my shirt over my nose and was all, ‘What did youeat?’
“He still tried to say it wasn’t him, but it was just the two of us down there. If I knew for a fact that I didn’t fart, there’s literally no one else it could be. You’re a grown man and everyone farts, dude. Just own it!”
I can’t help it. I’m laughing just listening to him.
“Finally he comes clean, but this stench is, like, the Energizer Fart. It just kept going and going. So we gave up and moved upstairs to the living room to watch the movie. Fresh air, you know? My mom asked what was going on, but my dad just gave some excuse like it got too hot down there. Out of solidarity I didn’t rat him out. Little did we know, my mom went down to the basement to check the thermostat because she thought something was wrong, and next thing we know, she’s yelling, ‘Good God, what did you twododownhere?’ and running up the stairs like she can’t get out of there fast enough.” He tips his head back and laughs, and I’m right there with him. “We’re, like, doubled over on the couch by this point. And I kid you not—I swear that odor still lingered the next day.”
“That’s some fart,” I say, grinning. Also, I’m sort of impressed.
His attention is still directed straight ahead, but the smile stays on his face for a long time. I wonder what else he’s remembering.
I squint out at the ocean. The water is clear and the waves are calm, rolling in gently and lapping up onto the sand. “Wanna go swimming?” I ask.
He looks at me like I just asked if he wanted to shave off all his body hair. “It’s almost dark.”
“Key word ‘almost.’ ”
“I’m not wearing a swimsuit.”
“So?” I stand up and brush the sand off my butt. “Neither am I. You’ve come a long way on our beach lessons, but I’m not sure you’ve ever gone far enough in to so much as get your knees wet. It’s a nice, warm night. It’s perfect.” I turn and face him, walking backward into the surf.
“Amelia. No.”
“Come on.” I’m calf-deep now. “It feels so good.”
“Not happening.”
“Better hurry before it’s pitch-black out here.” Now that the water’s mid-thigh, I face the water again so I can see where I’m going. I fling my arms out, close my eyes, and twist around in a circle, sending splashes of water out all around me. “Gregory! Come twirl with me!”
“Twirlwith you?” He sounds exasperated, but his voice seems a little closer, so I stop and cast a glance over my shoulder. He’s making his way toward me, and doesn’t look particularly happy about it. His shoes and shirt are in a pile on the sand.
I jump up and down, clapping. “Yes! Come on! Twirling in the ocean will change your life. I swear.”
“I’m only here so I can be close enough to save you some from unknown ocean danger. That’s it.”
