learn that, at twelve, Ally already has a serious boyfriend, and Channy, the youngest, is the star of her soccer team. I ask him about his brother, and he tells me he served two tours in Afghanistan.
“That’s enough about me,” he says. “You know, for now. There’s, of course, so much more you’ll want to know, but I promise it’s worth the wait.”
I roll my eyes.
He laughs. “So tell me about your friends back home.”
I tell him about Saz and Yvonne and our nightmare phone call. When I’m finished, he says, “It sounds like Saz is on her own island right now. You just have to give her time.”
This is so similar to what my mom said that it catches me off guard.
“What?” he says.
“Nothing. That just sounded pretty wise.”
“Because I am.” He runs a hand through his hair and I stare at the anchor on his wrist.
“What’s up with the tattoos?”
“This one”—he holds up the anchor—“is to remind me where I come from. The compass on my shoulder reminds me that I’ll always find my way. And this one here…” He turns his other wrist over. Joy. “Because it’s what I’m looking for.”
Not a girl after all.
I say, “My mom is joyful. She makes things brighter just by being her. My dad hasn’t always gotten that. He can be funny and fun, but also moody.”
“Some people just aren’t built that way. My mom, for one. Or maybe they are but something gets in the way. Like depression or loss. I work hard for joy, if that makes sense. Because I’m built for it but not built for it.” He rubs at the tattoo.
“With my dad it’s more than that. It’s like sometimes he, I don’t know, almost doesn’t want to let himself be happy. It’s hard to explain.”
And even though I’ve always known that my mom and I are a lot alike, this is something I can see more and more, the farther I get from Ohio—Claudine and Lauren, Lauren and Claudine, the Llewelyn women. My dad, more like a guest star, making an appearance now and then.
Miah goes, “I don’t know the guy, but I kind of feel sorry for him.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s his choice, right? Not just ending their marriage but kind of, I don’t know, removing himself when we were still there.”
“Yeah, but he’s missing out. He’s missing out on you.”
“I don’t think he feels that way.”
We walk, not talking, his arm brushing mine again, my arm brushing his, and my heart flutters under the moon. Suddenly I’m sorry I said anything about my dad. I don’t want him on this beach with us.
I change the subject. “Where do you think you’ll end up?”
“In the world?”
“Yeah.”
“Like, ultimately?”
“Sure.”
“Well, the odds say prison or rehab. But I don’t know. For now, here’s where I’m supposed to be. Shirley says the island has this way of giving you what you need.”
“All it’s given me is a bad haircut and bug bites that look like leprosy.” And this night, and maybe you.
“Maybe that’s exactly what you need.” He bumps my arm with his and I bump his back.
“What about the end of summer? Where are you going in four weeks?”
“To join the CIA.” He grins down at me. “What about you?”
“Ever since I was little, I always knew I wanted to go to California. It was so big and so far away and seemed full of, well, promise. Saz and I planned to go there together and be writers. But I decided to go to Columbia and she’s going to Northwestern.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t happen someday. And it doesn’t mean you can’t go there on your own. I don’t see the future as this road that’s all laid out neat and organized: school, work, relationship. I think the future’s kind of like the ocean—more, I don’t know, fluid.”
“Wow. That’s pretty deep.”
“Is it making you want me?”
“Not really.”
“Just wait. I tend to have a delayed effect on women. It’s part of my charm.”
We turn around and start walking back the way we came, every single inch of me focused on this beach, the water washing over my feet, the night air, the moon, this boy.
Next to me Miah pulls off his shirt. “This spot right here. This is the one.” And then he’s pulling off the army shorts, and his clothes are lying on the beach, and he’s fully naked. He walks away from me, straight into the ocean.