Page 58 of Ship Happens

They do just that, wandering through the quiet Sitka streets as the sun starts to edge toward the horizon. For a while, they walk in silence.

Thankfully, it’s far less awkward than before. More comfortable. Not quite how they used to be when they’d both get overstimulated, content with just sitting next to each other in complete silence, each of them on their phones, scrolling through videos and sending them to each other despite being less than a foot apart.

Still, it’s nice. The sounds of the town fill the space between them: fishermen coming in for the day, seagulls cawing, people eating lunch.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Jacob says, his voice soft.

“Is it a lot like Dover?” Owen asks, desperate to pick up the conversation.

“Like Dover?”

“You know . . . isn’t all of Britain supposed to be rolling hills and quiet little villages? That’s how they all look on those BritBox shows you liked to watch.”

“It is nice,” Jacob continues. “Much hillier, not as many forests, at least not this close to town.”

“Does it also have that blue filter over everything?”

“They actually hand you a pair of glasses at the airport. Legally you can’t take them off, even at night.”

Owen rolls his eyes, closing the distance between them, nearly nudging Jacob with his shoulder.

“What’s it like?” Owen asks, before he realizes how non-specific that sounds. “Life, I mean? Like how is it?”

“Is this your attempt at being civil with me?” Jacob cocks an eyebrow.

“More . . . friendly? I guess. I don’t really know.”

“So, we’re going to be friends now?”

Owen smirks. “Not if you keep making fun of me for trying!”

Jacob giggles, his already soft expression growing fonder. “It’s nice. I like my team a lot; we hang out on the weekends, get drinks. I even started a beer hockey league, and we play every other weekend.”

“Any new missing teeth?”

Jacob does that thing where he flicks his tongue along the roof of his mouth, his dentures sliding out of place with a wet sound. “Sill jus ah kayine.” A product of Jacob’s time on his high school’s hockey team. He hadn’t even been playing—he’d tripped on the ice during practice, hitting his jaw on the goalie post. His left canine had popped right out.

“That’s good.” Owen chuckles.

“What about you?” Jacob asks after sliding his denture back into place. “We never talked about the shop.”

“Yeah, I mean . . .” Owen hesitates, wondering what he should say first, or how much detail he really wants to give. “Ravi’s been working with me a lot, getting the paperwork ready, helping me with my loan proposal and everything that comes with that.”

“Do you have a space in mind yet?”

“Not really, that’s been our biggest struggle,” Owen admits. “One of Ravi’s friends is helping us, but the city is so expensive that I—”

Owen stops himself, realizing just where he was headed.

“You . . . ?” Jacob prompts.

“I’m thinking about not doing it,” Owen says to him, instantly regretting telling Jacob the truth. “I mean, not exactly not opening up, but . . . I don’t know, everything’s feeling like a sign that I should just wait.”

“For what?”

“For things to be a little more secure, to have a bigger cushion. Ravi also thinks the ‘market is about to burst,’ whatever that means. So, I wait and hope that . . . maybe things will be better—”

“But they could also get worse,” Jacob interrupts him. “Things could get more expensive, the market could stay unbursted, and it could be a lot harder. More waiting doesn’t guarantee it’ll work out further down the line.”