The Rest of the Story(113)

Roo let me go, rushing out to open and hold the door as they came up the steps.

“Let’s go,” my dad said, ducking into the TV room. Gordon was still holding on tightly, her own eyes squeezed shut, as Trinity shrieked, relieved, upon seeing them. “Saylor. You okay?”

I paused. He had never called me that. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He reached out, touching my hair, but couldn’t do much more with Gordon attached to him like a spider monkey. Roo shut the living room door. “It’s coming,” he said as we all got back on the couch, together. We were so close, crammed in together, that I felt like I had a piece of everyone: Trinity’s hand in mine, my dad’s leg pressed against me, Gordon’s skinny elbow at my ear. And then, Roo, sliding in behind me. He took my other hand, squeezing it, as if he’d done it a million times. Maybe, in the deep, lost part of my memory, he had. But it still felt new and familiar all at once as I squeezed back, pressing myself against him. I thought of my mom in that hotel room, on another night years ago, leaving this world with no one even knowing. There were a million ways to go, but the worst would be alone. And I wasn’t.

I’d never heard the wind the way it sounded at that moment. Sometimes I still hear it in my dreams. But even then, I have that sense of being part of a greater whole. All of us on the couch, Roo’s breath in my ear. Together, we held on.





Twenty-Four


“This is so nice,” Bailey said, looking around the room. “You didn’t have to.”

“Oh, I think I did!” Nana replied, gesturing for us to take our seats at the table before she did the same. “Of course, it’s not the Club. But there are oyster forks. See?”

I did. There they were, on the little card table Oxford had brought into room seven, along with three folding chairs. I’d found the tablecloth and napkins in a drawer in Mimi’s kitchen, while Nana picked a bunch of gardenias and put them in water for the centerpiece. She was right, it wasn’t the Club. It was better.

The Club wasn’t an option anyway, as, like the Tides, it had suffered so much damage from the storm it was closed until further notice. Which meant all the guests who’d been so reassured about the hotel’s storm readiness suddenly had to find other places to stay, causing everything to be fully booked up. Luckily, we had a connection.

It was Calvander’s we’d come to, the night of the storm, after we’d picked up Nana and Tracy, who’d been evacuated as the water rushed into the Tides lobby. We’d taken the Yum truck, me on the cooler seat with Tracy, while Nana rode up front, next to Roo, delighted by the music, which was still playing.

On the day of the storm, Calvander’s had two vacancies, so Nana and I bunked in seven while Dad and Tracy took number ten. I’d been a little worried about how my grandmother would adapt to her new digs. But she took easily to walking over to the main house with me for breakfast each morning with Oxford, who split his paper with her and made all the toast we could ever want. Usually Gordon joined us as well, with her book. She’d become fascinated with everything Nana, which I could understand, following her around the way she once had me. Sometimes I’d see them in our room, sitting together and talking quietly, and wonder what they were discussing. But I’d never ask.

The motel itself had withstood the storm with only a little damage, and within a day or two the other guests were back on the beach, slathering themselves with sunscreen as they spread out their towels. From across the lake, we could hear bulldozers and construction equipment going all day long as the Tides and the Club tried to get back up and running. But it would be a while.

And by then, we’d be gone. Back in Lakeview, Nana’s remodeled apartment and our new house were both done and waiting for us, as well as the new school year. But I was determined to stay at North Lake, both literally and figuratively, as long as I could.

Which was why we’d scheduled this, our oyster fork meal, on the evening of the second-to-last day, before the chaos of packing and leaving really set in. It wasn’t the big group dinner we’d planned, but it didn’t matter, as by that point we’d had plenty of those. In the first days after the storm, when the power was still out, we’d sat together at Mimi’s big table, eating meals made with everything perishable from the fridge. Oxford grilled hot dogs outside while Mimi and Nana drank boxed wine they’d found in the pantry, sharing stories. Even Trinity was there, still hugely pregnant, counting down the days until the Sergeant arrived home. I was hoping I’d be there when the baby came, but I knew even from the distance of Lakeview I’d still feel part of it, whenever it happened.

A lot of this was because of Roo. That day of the storm, we’d all stayed in the living room, on the couch, until the wind died down and we were sure the danger had passed. Only then did my dad get up, helping Trinity to her feet while Gordon stuck close to his other side.

“Bound to be a lot of branches and power lines down,” he told us, crossing the room and opening the door to squint out. “Nobody touch anything, understood?”

Gordon, solemn, nodded, although Trinity was already going to the front door. “Oh, crap,” she said a moment later. “That same office window that blew out in Richard is gone again. Mimi is going to be pissed.”

“Better a window than a person,” my dad pointed out. He looked at Gordon, then bent down to her level. “You okay? That was kind of scary.”