The Wish(66)

“He’s my tutor.”

“And he’s teaching you photography, too?”

“His mom got him into it. It’s been a lot of fun and I think I might keep it up when I get back home.”

“Do you ever go to his house?”

I was still wondering why she didn’t seem interested in my new passion. “Sometimes.”

“Are his parents home when you visit?”

With that, I suddenly understood where all this was coming from. “His mom is always there. His brothers are usually there, too.”

“Oh,” she said, but in that single syllable, I could hear her relief.

“Would you like to see some of the photos I’ve taken?”

She walked a few steps without saying anything. “It’s great you found a hobby, but don’t you think you should be concentrating on school instead? Maybe use your free time to study on your own?”

“I do study on my own,” I said, hearing the defensiveness in my tone. “You saw my grades, and I’m already way ahead this semester, too.” From the corner of my eye, I could see the waves rolling steadily toward the shore, as though trying to erase our footprints.

“I’m just wondering if you’re spending too much time with Bryce, instead of working on yourself.”

“What do you mean by working on myself? I’m doing okay in school, I’ve found a cool hobby, I’ve even made friends…”

“Friends? Or friend?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t a lot of people here my age.”

“I’m just worried about you, Margaret.”

“Maggie,” I reminded her, knowing my mom only used Margaret when she was upset. “And you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Have you forgotten why you’re here?”

Her comment stung, reminding me that no matter what I did, I would always be the daughter who let her down. “I know why I’m here.”

She nodded, saying nothing, her eyes darting downward. “You’re barely showing.”

My hands went automatically to my belly. “The sweater you bought hides a lot.”

“Are those maternity pants?”

“I had to get them last month.”

She smiled, but it couldn’t hide her sadness. “We miss you, you know.”

“I miss you, too.” And in that moment, I did, even if she sometimes made it very hard to do.

*



My interactions with my father were just as awkward. He spent nearly all of Thursday afternoon with my aunt, the two of them either sitting at the kitchen table or standing out back, near the water’s edge. Even at dinner, he didn’t say much to me other than “Can you pass the corn?” Tired from their trip, or maybe just stressed out of their minds, my parents left for their hotel not long after dinner was over.

When they returned the following morning, they saw Bryce and me working at the table. After a quick introduction—Bryce was his normal charming self while my parents studied him with reserved expressions—they sat in the living room, speaking quietly while we went back to work. Even though I was ahead in my assignments, their presence while I was studying made me nervous anyway. To say the whole thing felt weird was an understatement.

Bryce picked up on the tension, so we both agreed to make it an early day and finished by lunch. Aside from my aunt’s shop, there were only a few places to eat, and my parents and I ended up at the Pony Island Restaurant. I’d never been there, and though it served only breakfast food, my parents didn’t seem to mind. I had French toast, as did my mom, while my dad had eggs and bacon. Afterward, they poked around my aunt’s shop while I went back to the house to nap. By the time I got up, my mom was talking to Aunt Linda, who’d already returned to the house. My dad was drinking coffee on the porch and I went out to join him, sitting in the other rocker. My first thought was that he looked as low as I’d ever seen him.

“How are you doing, Dad?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t noticed.

“I’m okay,” he said. “How about you?”

“I’m kind of tired, but that’s normal. According to the book, anyway.”

His eyes flashed to my stomach, then up again. I adjusted myself in the chair, trying to get more comfortable. “How’s work? Mom says you’ve had a lot of overtime lately.”

“There are a lot of orders for the new 777-300,” he said, as though everyone shared his expertise in Boeing aircraft.

“That’s good, right?”

“It’s a living,” he grunted. He took a sip of his coffee. I shifted in my seat again, wondering if my bladder would start screaming at me, giving me an excuse to go back into the house. It didn’t.

“I’ve enjoyed learning photography,” I ventured.

“Oh,” he said. “Good.”

“Would you like to see some of my photographs?”

It took him a few seconds to answer. “I wouldn’t know what I was seeing.” In the silence after his answer, I could see the steam rising from his coffee before quickly vanishing, a temporary mirage. Then, as if knowing it was his turn to move the conversation forward, he sighed. “Linda says you’ve been a big help around the house.”