“Oh, honey.” Jodi put an arm around Mae’s shoulder. “None of us do.”
“That can’t possibly be true.”
Jodi shrugged.
“Maybe. But as an example, twenty years ago, I didn’t know Newport, Oregon even existed. Wouldn’t have guessed I’d be retired here.”
She looked at Mae.
“But now that I’m here? I’m pretty glad life worked out this way.”
“Yeah.”
“Sometimes you just have to go where life takes you. I’ve always been proud of you for doing that.”
It was true that Mae had moved a fair amount in her life. From North Carolina to Wisconsin, from Wisconsin to a brief stint in Brooklyn, from Brooklyn to Portland, and now to Greyfin Bay. She should understand these little aches. The love you still held for those you moved away from. For those who moved away from you. She had chosen this.
Mae stared at the ocean. And feeling suddenly like a small child, she blurted, “I miss Jesus.” Her vision blurred. “Steve, too. I miss them so much.”
Quietly, Jodi pulled Mae into her. Mae shuddered into her mother’s shoulder.
Because it wasn’t just the little aches. It wasn’t just Greyfin Bay.
None of it was Jesus. Someone who had known and loved every part of her.
“Why did he have to go, too?”
“I don’t know, honey,” Jodi whispered into her hair. “I don’t know.” And then, “We never do. We just have to keep going on, for them.”
“I know.” Mae pulled away, embarrassed. She wiped at her eyes. “I know.”
It was what Jesus would have said, too.
But knowing that wasn’t the same as actually hearing him say it. She was so lucky to have two healthy parents, alive and loving and here, right next to her.
Yet even they didn’t fill the Jesus-sized hole inside of her. She wanted his arms around her. His laugh and his rough cheek against hers.
And she couldn’t have it. Ever again.
They kept going. Mae and Jodi and Felix walked until the wind grew too cold, and they turned for the slow walk back home.
eleven
Dell dughis fingertips into a sheet of sandpaper and focused on the irritating sensation, each tiny prick of skin.
He just needed to finish a bookshelf.
He had taken the rest of the day off yesterday, mostly drifting in and out of consciousness in bed with the dogs. He was still exhausted, his whole body one strange ache: neck tight, muscles sore, as if he’d run a marathon. But if he didn’t get back to work today—well, he might be useless today, too. But it’d be worse if he didn’t try.
Most of the pieces of red alder were already cut and shaped; all he needed to do now was assembly. He just needed to build a fucking bookshelf, one of the easiest things a person could do. And he was almost there, with the first one. Almost there.
The door to the back deck opened behind him. Dell closed his eyes before he turned.
“Mae.”
She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. It was hard to read her face. She wore an incredibly fuzzy purple sweater, a turquoise skirt. She looked like a muppet.
“Dell.”
