The Wish(92)

“Are you supposed to know any of it?”

I shook my head. Then, “I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

“I think you probably do.”

You, she meant. “But he knows I’m leaving,” I protested. “He’s known all along. We’ve talked about it lots of times.”

She seemed to consider her response. “Maybe,” she said, her voice soft, “he didn’t like what you said.”

*



I didn’t sleep well that night and on Sunday, I found myself wishing I could have done the twelve-hour church-marathon thing as a distraction from the churn of my thoughts. When Gwen came over to check on me, I could barely concentrate, and after she left, I felt even worse. No matter where I went in the house, my concerns followed, raising one question after another. Even the occasional Braxton Hicks contraction didn’t divert me for long, as inured as I was becoming to the spasms. I was exhausted with worry.

It was April 21. The baby was due in eighteen days.

*



When Bryce came to the house on Monday morning, he said little about his weekend. I asked him about it in a conversational way and he mentioned that they’d had to go farther offshore than they’d originally planned, but the season for yellowfin tuna had heated up, and on both days, they’d had a decent haul. He said nothing about his reasons for vanishing the previous two weekends, nor about his college plans, and unsure whether to go on, I let the topic pass.

Instead, it was business as usual, almost like nothing was amiss. More studying, even more photography. By then, I understood the camera like the back of my hand and could make adjustments blindfolded; I’d practically memorized the technical aspects of every photo in the file box and understood the mistakes I’d made when taking my own photos. When my aunt got home, she asked if Bryce had a few minutes to help her install more shelves for the book section of the shop. He willingly agreed, though I stayed behind.

“How did it go?” I asked when she returned alone.

“He’s like his father. He can do anything,” she marveled.

“How was he?”

“No strange questions or comments, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“He seemed okay with me today, too.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I guess.”

“I forgot to mention it earlier, but I spoke to the headmaster and your parents today about school.”

“Why?”

She explained, and although I was in accordance, she must have seen something in my expression. “Are you doing okay?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. And even though Bryce had acted as if everything was normal, I think he was unsure as well.

*



The rest of the week was much the same, except that Bryce ate dinner with my aunt and me on both Tuesday and Wednesday. On Thursday, after I’d taken three exams and my aunt had returned to the shop, he asked me on a second date for the following evening—another dinner—but I quickly declined.

“I really don’t want to be gawked at in public,” I said.

“Then why don’t I make dinner here? We can watch a movie afterwards.”

“We don’t have a TV.”

“I can bring mine over, along with the VCR. We could watch Dirty Dancing or whatever.”

“Dirty Dancing?”

“My mom loved it. I haven’t seen it.”

“How can you not have seen Dirty Dancing?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, there are no movie theaters in Ocracoke.”

“It came out when I was a little kid.”

“I’ve been busy.”

I laughed. “I’m going to have to check with my aunt to make sure it’s okay.”

“I know.”

As soon as he said it, my mind suddenly flashed to his mom’s visit the previous weekend. “Does it have to be an early night? If you’re going fishing on Saturday again?”

“I’ll be here this weekend. There’s something I want to show you.”

“Another cemetery?”

“No. But I think you’ll like it.”

*



After I completed my exams on Friday morning with satisfying results, Aunt Linda not only agreed to the second date but added that she’d be happy to spend the evening at Gwen’s. “It’s not much of a date if I’m sitting there with you. What time do you need me to be out of here?”

“Is five o’clock okay?” Bryce asked. “So I have time to make dinner?”

“That’s fine,” she said, “but I’ll likely be home by nine.”

After she left to head back to the shop, Bryce mentioned that his dad would be returning home the following week. “I’m not sure exactly when, but I know my mom is happy about it.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” he affirmed. “Things are easier at the house when he’s around. The twins aren’t so wild.”

“Your mom seems to have it under control.”

“She does. But she doesn’t like always having to be the bad guy.”

“I can’t imagine your mom being the bad guy.”