I laugh, and we pause on a lamplit street. We’re close to our destination, passing Children’s Beach and winding the corner past the White Elephant, the nicest hotel on island.
Here is another one of my favorite spots on Nantucket: Brant Point lighthouse. It’s the lighthouse you see when you’re arriving on the ferry, the one Henry and I threw pennies at: a squat building amidst a sea of jagged rocks, the first sign that you’re almost home. There’s a long white wooden walkway with frayed slats. The lighthouse is always getting dressed up for holidays: an American flag for the Fourth, wreaths for Christmas with big red bows.
“Wow,” says Theo when we reach it. “I can’t believe I haven’t been here yet.”
It’s empty now, and the stars and the moon are the only source of light beyond the fixed red beacon at the very top. It draws a circle over the dark water like a spotlight in a theatrical production.
“It’s funny,” Theo says as we walk closer. “I feel so comfortable around you, like I’ve known you forever, but there’s still so much I don’t know.”
I hop onto the railing and sit with my legs swinging. It creaks but remains stable. “Well, what do you still want to know?”
It’s so easy to be around Theo, sometimes I forget to feel embarrassed. But when he looks at me now, I remember his mouth on mine last night and have to look away.
“What’s your favorite food?” he asks, breaking the tension.
“My favorite food?” I’m laughing. “Easy. Peanut butter and Marshmallow Fluff sandwiches.”
Theo pushes his body onto the railing opposite of me. “That’s so basic.”
“It’s nostalgic,” I defend. “Anyway, what’s yours?”
“Mine? Definitely pizza.”
“Oh, and that’s somehow more sophisticated than peanut butter sandwiches?” I tease. “Like Domino’s? That’s boring, too!”
“My favorite is Modern Apizza in New Haven. Have you ever been?”
“Of course. We used to live in New Haven.”
“You did? How did I not know this?”
He’s right, it is a little odd how it never came up. “I guess because Nantucket has been home for so long, I never think about where I grew up. I always wanted to leave.”
Besides, once you live by the ocean, nowhere else can ever really be considered home. The ocean always calls back to you.
Theo looks up at the body of the lighthouse, the boulders by the water.
“By the way,” he says. “I get it, about Rose. She reminds me a lot of my own mom actually. She passed away when I was kid. The lottery ticket thing I mentioned earlier… I do that because of her. I know it’s stupid, but she always loved scratch-offs, and whenever I do one, I think of her.”
The sudden confession takes me by surprise. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I had no idea.” In the silence, I can hear the sound of the ocean churning and children laughing, blocks away.
It’s evident Theo feels regretful about the confession, and I want him to know it’s okay. It’s okay to talk about his mom, to not always be the funny, cheery one in the room.
“Will you tell me about her?” I ask.
Theo tells me more then about what happened, how she struggled with her mental health for years, postpartum snowballing into a deeper, more persistent depression. She took her own life when he was only ten. When Theo speaks about it, he transforms into someone else. He tells me about his father remarrying, and his little sister who has Down syndrome.
“She’s my favorite person in the entire world,” Theo says, smiling at the thought of her. It makes me smile, too. “She’s this huge ball of energy and joy.”
I move toward him and reach for his hand, but after a quick squeeze, he drops it. Behind us, the lighthouse continues to blink red, guiding the ships in the harbor, warning them of the dangerously shallow waters and letting us all know that we’re almost home.
Chapter Twenty-SixRose
July 15
My neck is strained as I stare at the constellations. If you look up at the stars long enough, they lose their meaning, like reading the same word over and over again until it no longer holds any language at all. My favorite course in college, second only to my psychology classes, was astronomy. Coincidentally, it was also my daughter’s least favorite.
We’re currently at the Loines Observatory, standing on the porch sandwiched between two great domes. The ridged silver tops of the telescopes look like giant soda bottle lids, but the cylinder bases are covered in the same gray shingles as the rest of the island. Even science must adhere to the beauty standards of the Nantucket Historic District Commission.
