“Catherine?” We all turned: Geralin, now with her bag as well as a small crocheted purse over her shoulder, was standing there. “I’m going to go, unless you need anything else or have questions for me. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“My orders are once daily until you leave for the surgery.”
My mom sighed, loudly. “Ridiculous. I’m fine!”
Geralin, unflappable, just smiled. “See you then.”
As she left, Liz yawned, putting a hand over her mouth. “That’s it for me. I need to get home before Trav forgets what I even look like.”
“I’m out too.” Kasey said, getting to her feet as well. “Paperwork tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait,” Liz said, sarcastic, as she pushed her chair in. When she passed me, she squeezed my arm, her palm warm against my skin. “See you then.”
My aunts chatted as they moved through the kitchen and then onto the porch. Then it was just me and my mom.
“Why don’t you want your phone?” she asked after a moment.
“I don’t know.” As soon as I said this, though, I did. “I think as long as I’m not hearing from everyone at home, I can pretend Colin and everything else—”
“… isn’t happening,” she finished for me. Then she turned, facing me. “I understand.”
Christmas?Liz had asked, incredulous, when my mom toldher when she’d found the lump. If you could put something squarely out of sight, out of mind was easy.
Now at the end of the dock, I could see a figure, dark. Lana. I thought of that flush creeping up her neck. All she’d wanted to do was help me.
I pushed out my chair. “I should…”
“Go,” she told me. “I’ll see you later.”
I nodded, getting to my feet. As I passed her, I found myself reaching out the way Liz had to me, to squeeze her arm. We weren’t touchy, never had been. She surprised me, though, by putting a hand over mine. Just for a single moment. But when she removed it, I could still feel the weight anyway.
I found Lana sitting at the end of the dock, feet dangling over the water. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
I eased myself down beside her. The lake was dark, the lights from the Tides and the Ebb visible across the way. So many stars overhead.
“Look,” I told her. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”
Silence. Distantly a car beeped. Summer, going on as always.
“My phone was such a big part of home. And Colin.” I pulled a knee to my chest, glancing at her. “I’m afraid having it will automatically make me back into the person I was. It’s different here.I’mdifferent here.”
“Well, yeah,” she said. “You’re the daughter of a Bigfoot-slash-bar-fighter, for starters.”
I smiled. “True.”
“Also, a waitress at the home of the best breakfast sandwich in the tri-county area. By popular vote three”—she held up three fingers—“years running.”
“Completely deserved, too.”
“But the biggest thing is that you’re close, personal friends with me. Something you’d never even get close to in Lakeview, as I am one of a kind.”
“If only we could do something about your lack of confidence, though,” I said. She laughed out loud. “And maybe, you know, cure you of the dirtbag thing.”
“It’s not a sickness. It’s a choice.”
