Serious Moonlight(40)

Only to stop short.

Standing in front of me was an unexpected sight.

Daniel.

“Hi,” he said, raising a hand.

My heart thudded against my ribs. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“That seems like a trick question.”

“I’m just . . .” So very confused. “I thought we were meeting at the terminal in the city.”

He squinted one eye closed. “I was bored at home, and I thought I’d see what the ferry ride was like . . . and I tried to guess which ferry you were taking today, but I was wrong.” He made a funny, self-deprecating face. “So, anyway, I guess I’m idiot because I’ve been stuck here for more than an hour. And I’ve read all the Department of Transportation pamphlets. Did you know six million people ride the ferries here every year?”

“I did not.”

“And there are seals in the marina.”

“The big one is Herbert,” I informed him. “Fletcher Bay has otters.”

He lightly kicked at the glossy floor with the rubber heel of his black Converse low-tops. “I tried texting earlier this afternoon, but you didn’t answer, and that made me afraid you’d changed your mind and weren’t coming into the city early. I came out here to hopefully change your mind, but . . . I didn’t really know where you lived, exactly, and you haven’t changed your mind, because . . . here you are.” He laughed nervously. “So clearly this was not well thought out, much like most of my life.”

My heart did a few leaps and jumps. I juggled my bakery box and struggled to retrieve my phone, only to find three unread messages from Daniel. “Crap,” I said. “My ringer was off. I guess I didn’t check it after we first texted about meeting up. I never heard them.”

“Oh, good. I mean, in my head you’d blocked me.”

“Not yet.”

“Fair enough.” He flashed me a smile before gesturing toward my hand. “Why do you do that counting thing with your fingers? I’ve noticed it a few times now.”

I looked down at my hand as if it were a foreign object I couldn’t comprehend. “Oh,” I said, embarrassed. “It’s silly. Just this little trick I do to make sure I’m awake. I have a lot of sleep issues.”

“Like falling asleep in public.”

“Like that,” I said, shifting my cinnamon roll box. “The finger counting . . . Have you ever wondered ‘am I dreaming?’ in the middle of dream, but you weren’t sure how to tell?”

“Sure?” he said, slightly skeptical.

“Well, what you can do is either find a clock or read something, or you can look at your hand. If the clock dial is melting, or you can’t read words, or you have too many fingers . . . you’re probably dreaming.”

“Huh,” he said. “I didn’t know that.”

“Reality check.”

“Did we pass?” he asked, eyes glinting. “Are we in a dream?”

“I’m not. Are you?”

He counted his fingers. “All there, as it should be. Thank God, because being stuck in this terminal is a little nightmarish. I’m hoping you’re feeling sorry enough for me to let me keep you company on the way back. I mean, sure. This briny island air is good for the lungs,” he said, thumping his chest with the back of his fist as he inhaled deeply through his nostrils. “But I don’t think I can stick around for a third ferry.”

Daniel was wrong: I didn’t feel sorry for him. I felt . . . happy to see him. Surprisingly happy. Our unfinished argument back in the park that night had felt like the giant Fremont Troll had left its home under the bridge across the city and was clinging to my shoulders, but now that I saw with my own eyes that we were going to be okay, that ugly bridge troll was suddenly several pounds lighter.

“I’m glad you came out here,” I said shyly, surprising both of us. “I even brought you a peace offering.”

“You did?”

I nodded. “Come on. The ferry waits for no one.”

We hurriedly boarded the green-and-white Tacoma, making it aboard right at the two-minute cutoff before sailing. It was more crowded than usual, but even so, there were a dozen nooks and crannies to find peace and quiet. And after we passed through the main floor, which looked a bit like an airport waiting area, we stopped off at the food counter to purchase hot coffee and tea. Then we found an empty booth near a window that overlooked the sundeck and settled in for the half-hour ride to the city.

June Gloom was in full effect. Not even a sliver of sunshine peeked through gray clouds, and all the kids running around the breezy outdoor deck on the other side of our window were armored in windbreakers and lightweight hoodies. But at least it wasn’t drizzling, and as the ferry glided away from the island, I pointed out my house on the beach. When it passed from view, Daniel waxed poetic over the ferry’s amenities: “It has hot tater tots and Wi-Fi?” This was far better than sitting in traffic for half an hour, he informed me.

Having never sat in much traffic, I wouldn’t know. But we compared commutes, and before I knew it, we were chatting nonstop. About his family and mine. About work. About all the shops he’d seen walking around the marina and downtown, wasting time that afternoon between ferries.