her online dates met her for the first time at the store, were introduced to all the booksellers on shift, and they gave the thumbs up or down—it was all boisterous and funny, and even though I felt sorry for the men she dumped, at least Marianne was honest about it. At least I believed her when she said that’s what she wanted.
But, see, I don’t think it’s what Mom wants. She’s not happy. Sometimes I think there are other reasons why she’s only interested in random encounters—she’s escaping something, hiding something. I tell Lucky, “It almost feels like … I don’t know. An addiction? A gambling problem? Something she does to stop feeling depressed? I don’t even know.”
“Is she depressed?”
“I don’t think so? She doesn’t act like it. She’s just a very private person, weirdly enough. I think everyone in my family is. Like, that’s just the Saint-Martin way. We all keep a part of ourselves locked up. She’s kind of hinted that my grandma was the same way, and I guess I do the same thing to her, because I haven’t told her about my plans to go to Los Angeles.”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding a little forlorn.
“Anyway, it’s none of my business, I guess. I just want her to be okay, you know?”
And that’s true, I realize. Even if I don’t want to keep moving around the country with her, being dragged from town to town, it doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I want her to be okay. I want her to be happy. It makes me feel bad that I can’t help her.
That I’m not enough for her.
“I wish she’d talk to me about it,” I tell Lucky, “but it’s kind of a forbidden topic. Everything about her relationships and her past is. So it’s hard for me to help if she won’t let me know what’s wrong,” I tell him, kicking my legs in the water. “I used to think maybe my dad could make her happy. Like maybe she was doing all this as a way of punishing him somehow? Like a cry for help? I don’t know. That sounds stupid.”
“No it doesn’t.”
“Anyway, she really, truly couldn’t care less about my father. So I don’t think it has anything to do with him. It’s something else. I just wish I knew what.”
“Maybe you should just ask her.”
“You think I haven’t?”
He doesn’t say anything. I don’t say anything. I just lie in the water, thinking about why he’s asking all these questions. Then I remember something I’d forgotten in all the recent drama. “Hey. You wouldn’t happen to know about anyone who was in the navy and recently came back to town, would you?”
He squints at me in the sun. “That’s an odd question.”
“Evie’s mom mentioned something when she called, but she clammed up and wouldn’t tell Evie who it was. Gave us the impression that it was someone from high school my mom would want to avoid so badly, she may have had second thoughts about moving back here.”
“I see,” he says. “Sounds dramatic.”
“Right?”
“Maybe you should ask your mom.”
“Have you not been listening? She’ll never tell me.”
“What about your grandma?”
“We’re not close like you are, apparently,” I tease. “So you really don’t know any navy dudes? No one in town? Anyone your parents might know?”
His face squinches up. “You think this has something to do with your mom’s depression?”
Wow. I don’t know. That’s a weird way of looking at it. I also get the strange feeling that he’s avoiding answering my question. I’m probably being paranoid. Regardless, I’m afraid if I keep thinking about all this, it’s going to ruin our lovely day. Because it is lovely. And I’m not letting my mom and all the question marks in her past take it away from me.
This is mine.
“Think you’re ready to try floating on your back?” he asks. “Last swimming trial of the day before we go home.”
“No. Yes. No. Do I have to?”
“Completely up to you. It’s fun, though.”
“Okay. Let’s try.”
The back float is much harder than on my stomach. So hard, I’m almost positive I can’t do it, and I think he’s getting frustrated with me? Or maybe I’m getting frustrated with myself. Because once I completely give in, stop worrying about water getting into my ears … then it happens.
I’m weightless.
I float on my back, looking up at the blue sky, feeling my body being buoyed by the warm harbor water, gently rocked. I float while Lucky paddles beside me. While