“Tidying up is for responsible adults and tonight that’s not us. We’ll clear them up in the morning.”
22
Abby
A short distance away Abby sat on the beach with Tristan, staring out across the ocean. It was late and apart from a few stray couples in the distance and one lonely runner, they had the place to themselves.
After the turmoil of the morning and the conversation with her mother, she’d somehow made it through the day and then she’d grabbed her towel and headed straight to the beach to indulge in her new favourite pastime. Swimming in the sea.
She’d swum until her limbs were as tired as the rest of her, until her skin felt salty and tight. She thought how much she preferred swimming in the sea to the sanitised, thermoregulated indoor pool in her apartment building back home. It was like comparing cycling outdoors with an exercise bike. The real thing versus a poor imitation.
Tristan had insisted on joining her, shadowing her with his powerful crawl even though she kept telling him she was finein the water. But she was pleased he was with her. His presence brought her a comfort she hadn’t even known she needed.
Now they were sitting on a small curve of sand sheltered by rocks, not quite a cave but offering enough privacy for their conversation.
“That’s quite a story,” Tristan said when she finished telling him what had happened. “I’m not sure which part to react to first.”
“I feel the same way.” She rubbed her damp hair with a towel. “You know they always say be careful what you wish for? I really wanted to know more about my past, and now I know and honestly, I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have preferred to carry on in blissful ignorance.”
“You’re not upset that your mother didn’t tell you sooner?”
She draped the towel around her shoulders. “No. I’m grateful to her. Thanks to her I didn’t grow up with a ton of psychological baggage that would have cost me a fortune in therapy.” And even now it hadn’t really sunk in. All those revelations were balanced on the surface of her, not sinking deep. The whole story felt detached from her, and in a way it was, of course. It hadn’t been part of her life. Until now.
“Still, it’s a lot to deal with.”
“Yes.” She couldn’t believe what she’d witnessed in Evie’s office that morning, and she couldn’t believe all the things her mother had told her. “It turns out I’m descended from a series of truly pathetic men. Ugh.”
“If you want to cry on my shoulder, feel free.”
“Cry? Why would I cry? That would makemepathetic.”
He cleared his throat. “I was assuming that with all those pathetic genes swirling around inside you, you might—”
“Fortunately for me I also inherited my mother’s genes. They are dominant. So no, I won’t be crying on your shoulder anytime soon.”
“Right. Good to know. I’ll just have to find another reason to get you to lean on my shoulder.”
She turned to look at him.
“I did that the other night, remember? You weren’t receptive.”
His gaze held hers. “That’s not quite how I remember it.”
Drops of water clung to his broad shoulders and his chest. His legs were as sandy as hers.
“Men have selective memories.”
“We’re poorly designed creatures, there’s no doubt about that.”
“Some more than others.” She thought of her grandfather, and also her father. “And some are plain faulty. The sort you’d take back for a refund if they were a kettle or a toaster.”
“Hopefully in time, AI will invent a better model, then you won’t need us at all.”
“Interesting idea. As long as no one trains the AI model using the characteristics of the males in my family.” They were bantering, lobbing words back and forth, while underneath something deeper shimmered. Something delicious and dangerous.
Unsettled, she tugged the damp towel from her shoulders and folded it. “Do you think her father felt even a flicker of remorse at the way he behaved?”
“You mean your grandfather?”
