Girl Out of Water(13)

Dad became an adult real fast. He quit drinking, quit smoking, and worked in construction until he could open his own business. As the years went on, he found ways to decompress from all the stress in his life—running and green tea and yoga. He not only was a parent to me but also a counterbalance to my mom’s instability. Saying I love him is like saying the Beatles had a decent career.

“I’m sure you’re right. I hope she’ll come around soon,” Aunt Jackie says. Her hand plays with the edge of the comforter, smoothing it and crinkling it again and again. Her eyes drift closed, and she speaks once more, the words slurred, half-spoken in sleep. “A girl needs her mother.”

? ? ?

I can’t sleep. The guest room, with its white paint, white comforter, and white curtains, has less personality and warmth than a chain motel. I crave my room—the crocheted quilt Tess made me, the walls plastered with posters of my favorite surfers, the shelves stacked with tangled medals from surfing competitions, books and magazines, odd-looking shells and sea marbles. It’s hard to think of my room without me in it, my things just sitting there, hoping I’ll come back for them.

As I toss and turn at one in the morning, it occurs to me I’ve never experienced complete silence before. My entire life has been filled with the crash of waves, the squawk of seagulls, the humming conversations of people walking the beach. Never once have I experienced this terrible buzzing silence. Every time I close my eyes, it eats at me, and I yank them back open in mute anxiety.

Giving up, I grab my phone from the nightstand and scroll through my texts, opening the one from Eric I didn’t have time to read earlier:

Wish we could repeat last night all summer. Hope everyone is okay. Call me if you have time.

His words flush my skin. I bite my lip, but it doesn’t compare to the feel of his touch. I wish we could repeat last night all summer too—exhausting our limbs from surfing, exhausting our lips from each other. I can’t believe I kissed him last night. But I kissed him and left. This summer could have been everything, and now—

I press Eric’s number, heart thumping slow and hard as I wait. He picks up on the second ring. “Anise?” His voice sounds different over the phone, and for a second his face blanks out of my mind, as if I were talking to a complete stranger and not one of my closest friends. I can’t remember ever talking to him on the phone before. Why would we when we could just text or walk to each other’s houses?

“Anise?” he repeats.

“Hey!” My voice comes out squeaky. “Hey. Hi. How are you? What’d you do today?”

“I’m okay. I did the usual, you know, surfed and stuff. It’s not the same without you showing me up. How’s your aunt?”

I sink into my pillows and clutch the comforter to my chest. Sleep presses more heavily now, my eyes blinking from the frenzy-induced exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours. “Um, not great, but she’ll be okay…”

“That’s good.”

There’s a long pause, and that terrible buzzing silence fills the room again. “Hey Eric, can I ask you something weird?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“It’s really weird.”

“Try me.” I can almost hear him smiling over the phone. Throughout the many years of our friendship, he usually does the weird things, while I watch and laugh and judge only a little.

“Um, will you go out on your deck and put the phone on speaker? I miss the sound. You know, of the ocean.”

After a short pause, Eric says, “I’ll do you one better. I’ll take you right to the waves.”

And he does.

And I fall asleep, not to Eric’s voice, but to the crackling roar of the water.





Four


It only takes three days of helping out around the house for me to decide I never want kids. Ever. Unless I’m a millionaire and can pay other people to take care of them. But even then, I’m pretty skeptical about the whole thing. I don’t know how Aunt Jackie does it. I have a lot of endurance, but after less than seventy-two hours, I’m ready to drop.

One of Aunt Jackie’s friends had a lead for construction work on the new city hall, and Dad jumped at the opportunity to bring in some money while we’re here, which is great and all, but that leaves me stuck alone with all the kids trying to keep the house standing.

Emery is pretty easy to handle because she spends 95 percent of her time in her room and online. Every now and then she comes out, phone in hand, and settles next to me on the couch. I wish I could offer to take her to her friends’ houses or the movies, but I don’t have a license, and even if I did have a license, I don’t have access to a car, and even if I did have a license and access to a car, part of me thinks I’d pile all three kids in the backseat and head straight for Santa Cruz.

It’s the boys who are out of control. I’m trying to be patient. I really am. My chest gets tight when I think about all my cousins have been through. They only have one living parent, and she’s currently in the hospital. Sure, the worst is over. Aunt Jackie has a long road of recovery ahead of her, but she’ll be okay. But that doesn’t make what could have happened any less scary. I want to be sensitive, but it’s hard to be sensitive—to stay sensitive—when living under the same roof as Parker and Nash.