He lies down, hands behind his head, and waits for me.
So I sit at first. And then I lie back, and the ceiling is painted in stars.
“Look,” I say.
“Aurora painted them. That’s what Shirley says. To keep her company on dark nights when she was the only one here.”
I find the Big Dipper and the Northern Cross and Orion’s belt, tracing them with my eyes.
In a minute he says, “What’s on your mind, Captain?”
Somehow it’s easier to answer him like this, in the dark, staring up at the constellations.
“You’re going to Montana.”
“You don’t like Montana?”
“I’ve never been. But you’re going there. And I’m going to New York. And Saz is going to Chicago. And I’m not sure why we’re doing this when it can’t be anything.”
“And by this you mean us?”
I keep my eyes on the stars. “Yes. I mean, I know we agreed that it’s just for fun and it’s just for the summer, and I’m good with that. Honestly. But I also feel like, What’s the point? I mean, what’s the point of any of this if it’s just going to end?” And I don’t know if I mean Miah and me or Saz and me or my parents’ marriage or love in general.
“See, I think it is something. Just because I’m going to Montana doesn’t mean it isn’t something right now.”
“I get that. It’s just that I promised you I wouldn’t be crushed when you left, but maybe I’m going to miss you a little.”
“Wow. A little?”
“Maybe.”
He reaches through the darkness and takes my hand. “I have a feeling I’m going to miss you a lot.” And he kisses the back of my hand and then places our hands, laced together, on his chest.
I look at him in the dark, and my eyes have adjusted enough to see that he’s looking at me.
“You’re a pretty good boyfriend, you know that?”
“I try.”
“Keep in mind that I haven’t actually had a real boyfriend, so I don’t have a lot to compare you to.”
“Keep in mind that I live on an island, so I don’t get a lot of practice.”
We lie there, listening to the wind and the rattling.
I say, “I think it’s better not to talk about the end of summer.” The same way Saz and I promised not to talk about college until it was time to go, as if somehow the not talking would protect us.
And it’s better not to think about it.
“Whatever you say, Captain.”
And this makes me feel better and worse because of course I’m thinking about it.
In a minute he goes, “Do you feel it?”
“What?” Up here, at the top of this old, old tower, I brace myself for the wind, thunder, a coming storm.
“The floor.”
I close my eyes and concentrate until, through the blanket, I can feel the wood beneath my hands, my legs, my back, my head.
“I feel it.”
Without a word I move closer to him so that I’m against him, right where I fit, and he pulls me in so my head is on his chest and his arm is around me. “I got you,” he says, so low I almost miss it. “I can be your floor.”
My heart grabs on to this even as I tell myself, This moment is enough. Right now is enough. We don’t need to be anything more than now.
DAYS 21–22
To get ready for Addy’s visit, Mom and I change the sheets in both bedrooms and run the vacuum and clean the bathrooms. We give Miah a grocery list, and three and a half hours later he drops off four brown bags. I watch through the window as he moseys backward down the path toward his truck, grinning at me the whole way.
I say to my mom, “I can stay with him while Addy’s here.”
“Nice try, but no. Someone can sleep on the sofa in the office.” Which means me.
“But you two have a lot to catch up on. If Saz was coming, we’d be up all night.”
“Addy and I are old. We’ll be going to bed by ten.”
* * *
—
The general store is open again. I leave my bike outside, next to the door, under the sign that says ICE, ICE CREAM, BEVERAGES & MORE! As I walk in, Terri looks up from her book (Valley of the Dolls) and says, “I heard Addy Birch is coming in today,” because the island is small and everyone knows everything.
I ask her about her time off-island, and she tells me about her sister’s new grandbaby