for the first time in two weeks since I met this guy, I’m finally the one walking away. I can’t make sense of it to understand what the change is. But I’m left with one thought. What is it that he wants from me?
Iron Chink - A machine used in canneries to behead, de-fin, and gut fish.
“Can I have the chocolate chunky one?”
“You mean rocky road?” The lady behind the counter of the ice-cream parlor smiles tenderly at Atlas.
Atlas smiles widely, his eyes bright. “Yep. That one. I like marshmallows.”
“A lot,” I tease, winking at the cashier when she hands Atlas the ice-cream cone, and he immediately starts picking all the marshmallows out. “Keep the change,” I tell her, motioning with a nod to the door.
Atlas follows me, his boots a little too big, the sleeves of his jacket much the same. “You’re not having any, Daddy?”
I smile at him, rolling up his sleeves, so he doesn’t get ice cream on them. “I’m counting on you giving me a bite of yours.”
He holds it up. “You should have got your own.”
Bending down, I take a bite and immediately regret it because it’s cold on my teeth. “I’m surprised you’re hungry after all that food you ate.” Not wanting to get in a fight with my dad over taking him to a bar, I took Atlas out for pizza after leaving. And then ice cream.
“She’s pretty. I like her,” Atlas says, walking next to me, making an effort to jump in every puddle he finds. His pants are wet up to his knees, but he doesn’t care.
“Who?” I catch his arm when he nearly falls in the puddle.
Somehow he manages to keep his ice cream from falling. “Journey.”
I knew that was coming. He talked endlessly at dinner about her. “Yeah, she is,” I note, knowing just how accurate that statement is. My thoughts remain on this little boy beside me. I wish I had his careless attitude, but I don’t. I can’t. Careless isn’t a state of mind I can entertain. Not in the positions I’ve been put in over the years. But with Journey, I have been careless.
“I like this place. Are we moving here?”
I raise an eyebrow, peering down at him. “What do you like about it?”
He squints into the mist of rain falling on us, his hair matted to his forehead. “The sand.” Sweeping his hand across his face, he takes another bite of his ice cream and then hands it to me. “You can have the rest.”
I look down at him as he works his hand into mine again. Swinging it back and forth, he hums a song to himself. “Ilwaco has sand.”
“But you lived here when you were my size?” Atlas judges people by their size, not age. To him, age doesn’t matter. If you’re small, you’re a kid. If you’re taller than him, you’re an adult.
I chuckle. “You mean your age?”
“Yeah?”
“No. I grew up in Raymond, but then my parents divorced when I was ten, and I moved to Ilwaco with my mom. Papa moved here not long after that.” A memory works its way to the surface. The one of my dad watching my mom take Bear and me with her, while Rhett stayed with him. I’ll never forget the look on his face. The only other time I’ve seen that stoic expression on his face? The day she died. You can’t, nor can you, understand it until you experience death on that level. Until you’ve loved a woman your whole adult life and then she leaves, and it’s because of you. That kind of guilt, it doesn’t just leave you. It haunts you.
“Why?”
I look down at him. “Why what?”
“Why’d she move to Ilwaco?”
“Great Grandma and Grandpa live there.” I stare off into the distance, my dad’s house coming into view at the end of the street. “I guess she wanted to be with them.”
Atlas jumps both feet into a large puddle and then cackles with laughter when the water soaks me in the process. “Didn’t your mom die?”
Nodding, I glance down at my jeans and sigh. He did that on purpose. “She did.”
His smile fades and he steps out of the puddle. “How?”
“Cancer.”
I can feel his eyes on mine, but for some reason, I don’t meet his questioning stare. “What’s that?”
“A really bad sickness.”
A doubtful look crosses his face. “Like a cold?”
“Worse.”
“Like how my mommy died?”
“No, not like that.”
Atlas stops walking, his brows furrowed. “How then?”