“I’m youronlydad.”
“Well, even if I had two dads, or three à laMamma Mia…” I broke away to give him a dazzling grin. “You’d still be thebest.”
He smiled back, then nodded at the restaurant. “Fish-and-chips?”
“Fuck fish-and-chips,” I said. “We’re in New England; I’m getting New England clam chowder!”
* * *
We barely made it back to the car before it was our turn to drive onto the ferry. There was no sunshine to be found in its dimmed belly. “I am taking a nap,” Erica announced once my dad put the car in park. “There’s nothing better than a forty-five-minute Steamship Authority snooze…”
I was tempted to follow her lead, but when I noticed all the people disappearing into the nearby stairwell, I knew the upper deck really must be the best way to experience the ride. Grabbing Swede’s leash, I looked at my siblings and said, “Let’s go!”
The harbor breeze hit us as soon as we reached the top of the stairs, blowing my hair into my face and mouth; I felt like an idiot as I tried to smooth it back into place. Rows of metal seats were bolted to the deck, and I let Swede take the reins; he led the twins and me to the very front of the of the boat so he could introduce himself to a small Jack Russell Terrier. “Is your dog friendly?” I asked the owners, a middle-aged couple.
“Very!” the woman replied, and thus we let the dogs start enthusiastically smelling each other. “Although Loki doesn’t like having his butt sniffed.”
“I’ll make sure Swede stays away,” Bryce said as I scanned the horizon. The blue-green water glimmered in the sunshine, buoys bobbed along, and I squinted at the houses scattered along the coast.
“Have you been to the Vineyard before?” Loki’s owners asked.
“Bryce and I have,” Maisie answered. “It’s Olivia’s first time.”
The couple smiled before lovingly looking at each other, as ifrememberingtheirfirst visit. “Where are you—” the man started to ask, but the ferry horn sounding cut him off.
It blared so loudly that my sister grabbed my hand and I nearly jolted out of my skin.
And then off to sea we went, with hammering hearts.
Seven
By the time Martha’s Vineyard was in sight, Erica had joined us on the top deck with a coffee from the snack bar. She must’ve been desperate; Erica was kind of a coffee snob, and I couldn’t imagine this brew was the best. “We’re docking in Oak Bluffs,” she told me while snapping some photos of Maisie and Bryce with her Nikon. They were laughing, T-shirts blowing and billowing in the ocean breeze. “It’s one of the Vineyard’s larger towns.” She considered. “It’s fun for a day, but otherwise too touristy.”
All I did was nod, mostly focused on the horizon.
But I thought about Oak Bluffs’ historic gazebo and carousel.
As we got closer to the island, all passengers were instructed to return to their cars, and walk-ons reported to the gangway. Bryce made a game of darting past and weaving between the parked cars, packed together like sardines. He’d literally just gotten his cast off. “Careful, pal!” my dad warned as he nearly cut a corner too close. “You might hurt someone…”
Or hit something, I thought, horrifically imagining a bike racksnagging my brother’s sleeve, or an open car door stopping him in his tracks. Therehadto have been an accident like that before, right?
But Bryce made it back to the Expedition safely, and after coaxing Swede back into the car (the ferry was much more interesting!), we all buckled up—ready to disembark. The ferry unloaded efficiently, and I felt a thrill race through my veins when my dad drove onto the wide-plank dock.
I looked over the side of the pier to see people on the beach. A couple was napping together on a large blanket; three tween girls were taking selfies on the rocks; a young mother and her toddler stood at the water’s edge, squealing and racing away whenever a ripple washed ashore. I smiled to myself, remembering my mom and me playing the same game when I was little.Run, Livvy!Her warm hand tugged mine.Or do youwantto turn into a mermaid?
We cruised along the blue water, and when I glanced the other way, my heart jumped a little. Out the right side window, peering around Swede’s blocky head, I saw a sprawling green park with a pair of fountains, network of pathways, and lush flowerbeds. Its white Victorian gazebo caught my eye; one of Annie’s Polaroids come to life.
“How far away is Nana and Granddad’s house?” Maisie asked, prompting me to blink.
“Twenty minutes,” Erica said without missing a beat. She shifted in her seat. “Allison texted that Jay’s flight was delayed, but everyone else is there.”
Great, I thought, wondering if our arrival would make me feel like the new kid walking into a crowded high school cafeteria.
The other day, I’d asked Erica for a Carmichael family highlight reel; I didn’t think about them very often (shocking, I know), and while I might not be able to put names to faces right away, I didn’t want to have minimal background on top of that. My stepmother had been in the middle of updating her latest Pinterest board, but she seemed almost happy to take a break and give me the 411 on her family.
Her parents were Lawrence and Margaret. Their love story was an idyllic one: high school sweethearts turned patriarch and matriarch of a big family. Having met them only a few times, I should initially refer to them as “Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael,” but only as a formality; they’d invite me to call them “Topper and Peggy.”
What kind of nickname is Topper?was the follow-up question I did not ask.
