Two Truths and a Lie(101)
Rebecca reached for a box of tissues on the nightstand. She said, “Can I tell you a story about Peter?”
Alexa nodded and gradually her sobs subsided. She sniffled and swiped at her nose.
“Two months before he died—” Even now, all this time later, Rebecca had to stop and catch her breath when she said that. “Two months before Peter died, he was offered a different job, with another company. It was more money, but he wouldn’t have liked it as much. It wasn’t hands-on, and the hands-on parts were the parts he loved. Nevertheless, he felt he should take it, for us. To provide more.”
Alexa’s face spasmed briefly. That was Peter for you was what her face said.
“But I didn’t want him to be unhappy in the service of money. I convinced him to keep the job he had.”
“And that’s why he was in Dubai,” whispered Alexa.
“And that’s why he was in Dubai,” affirmed Rebecca. “Do you know how many times I’ve lain awake at night trying to figure out if that aneurysm was just waiting for a reason to rupture? If it was going to rupture at that point in time no matter where he was, or if it was the long trip to Dubai that did it? Do you know how many times I’ve wondered if Peter would still be alive if he’d taken the job I convinced him not to take? The job he was leaning toward taking?”
“Mom. No.”
“It’s true. I have. I’ve thought about it so much. But the point is, I’ll never know. So I understand what you’re going through. But I also understand—I one hundred percent know, sweetie—that you can’t blame yourself for what happened to Cam.”
Alexa started to cry again. “I think I loved him, Mom. I really think I did. And I don’t think I’m ever going to fall in love again. I think that was my one chance, and look what happened.”
“Oh, Alexa.” Rebecca thought of all the twists and turns her life had taken since she’d been Alexa’s age. The early boyfriends, the missteps and misstarts. Alexa’s father. Rebecca thought it had been all over for her after that; she thought she’d used up her chances. Then she’d met Peter and she’d thought that those blissful years were here forever. But she’d been wrong about that too. Now she knew Daniel, and there was nothing that said that he would be in her life permanently. You could take nothing for granted. Nothing. A lump in the breast, a slip of the ski, a turn of the wheel, a deer in the road—who was to say what was waiting around the corner for any of them. “That wasn’t your only chance. I promise you. It wasn’t.”
“Mom?” Alexa motioned to the spot next to her at the head of the bed, and Rebecca, who hadn’t cuddled with her daughter in who knew how long, leaned back against the headboard and put her arm around Alexa. Alexa pressed her head into her mother’s neck—it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world for Rebecca’s neck, in truth, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment. “How long until it stops hurting, Mom?”
Rebecca thought about that for a long time. Six months? Definitely not. A year? No. Longer. There was only one real answer in the end. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll let you know when I get there.”
Alexa didn’t stop crying, and she didn’t say thank you or please help me through it. But she did reach over Rebecca to take a peanut butter cracker, and that was something.
87.
Alexa
Morgan wanted to go surfing one final time before sixth grade, so she asked Alexa and Rebecca to take her to Jenness Beach on the penultimate day of summer, the week after Cam’s funeral. The day was almost cruel in its perfection, a big tease for all of the kids about to ready their backpacks and sharpen their pencils.
Rebecca said, “Parking will be a nightmare.”
But Morgan persisted—she had checked the surf forecast, and the waves looked promising. So off they went, packing their stuff up in the rental car that insurance was paying for while the details of buying a replacement for the Acura got sorted out. It was the only time all summer that the three of them had spent the day together with nobody else around.
When they got their smoothies and coffees at Summer Sessions Alexa’s mother refused Alexa’s money and threw down her credit card. Alexa, feeling generous, stuffed a five in the tip jar that said “bikini fund” on it, even though she thought it was unnecessary for the surfer girls to have a bikini fund when clearly they got, like, the biggest discount ever from the Summer Sessions shop.
Alexa helped Morgan carry her board. Alexa’s mom set up the chairs and the umbrella they’d had the foresight to drop off before parking in the backup lot. Then Morgan stepped into her wet suit and presented her back to Alexa for zipping. Despite all of the ice cream she’d eaten this summer, Morgan was still very, very skinny—she was the only person Alexa knew on whom a wet suit was actually baggy. When she was zipped she turned around and faced Alexa and gave her a giant smile. The zinc she had applied to her face was uneven, making her look like a clown who’d partied too hard after last night’s circus.
“Don’t go out too far,” Alexa told her. “Be careful.”
“I’ll be careful,” Morgan promised. She dragged the board down the beach, the leash trailing behind her, and Alexa watched to make sure she fastened the strap around her ankle once she got there.