“It’s Navy.” I finished my cereal and rinsed my dish, nearly leaving it in the sink before I remembered the talk I’d just had with my mom. I put it in the dishwasher, confused by my mom’s silence to my answer.
“Navy. As in your Navy?”
“Yes. My Navy.”
I expected shock; I expected at the very least surprise. But my mom just smiled knowingly at me.
“About time, Keane.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s yours. That’s what I mean. She’s always been yours.” She brought her coffee up to her lips. “And you’re hers, too.”
It lightened the weight on my chest that my mom thought so.
I just had to convince Navy of it.
28
NAVY
It was a quiet evening at the store—just Roger and me. My aunt had taken Violet to her doctor appointment a couple hours earlier after an appointment with a health insurance provider. She’d swooped in, doing all the things I hadn’t been able to do for Violet, for the twins. She had interviewed three people to fill in for Delilah, and didn’t blame me for Delilah quitting, saying, “It was bound to happen sooner or later.” Like that’s all there was to say about that. While she didn’t love the idea of Violet living forty minutes from town, even she agreed it was for the best, for the moment. Once the baby came, we’d have to figure out other plans.
I could breathe much better now knowing my aunt was home. I’d been so absorbed in my failures to fully realize that much of it wasn’t my fault.
But there was still that ache in the center of my chest. It was hard to move around it, hard to breathe deeply without feeling its pressure. Not talking to Keane—not being honest with him—had been so very much my mistake. I’d berated him for lying, but hadn’t I been doing that for years? Lying by omission was still lying. As he’d reminded me.
“How ya doing?” Roger asked, leaning over the counter as I pulled small bills out of the safe and replaced the larger ones in the till with them.
“Fine.” I started counting out fives. I was somewhere around fifty-five or sixty-five when Roger interrupted my thought to ask if I wanted a coffee.
“No.” I took a breath and started counting all over again. “Thanks though,” I mumbled when I’d reached one hundred. I pulled one one-hundred-dollar bill from the tray and put it in the envelope we designated for larger bills and closed the safe.
“You just look really tired,” he added, when I hadn’t asked for his opinion at all.
Normally, that kind of remark would cause me smile apologetically and offer up some kind of explanation. But I didn’t need to apologize for appearing tired and I didn’t need to explain myself to Roger. “Word of advice, Roger. Never tell someone they look tired unless they ask how they look.” I closed the register and locked it with my key.
“Sorry,” he said after his shock wore off. I never spoke to him like that. I never cut him off when he was stalling me or interrupting my plans to leave on time—but that needed to change.
“It’s late anyway,” I explained. “I’m looking forward to getting out of here right at the end of work.”
He nodded, and I hoped he understood that meant I didn’t want to dilly dally in the parking lot, talking about whatever weird snack he’d purchased that week. Otherwise we’d have another awkward exchange involving me telling him I needed to go.
Keane had told me I needed to be better about saying yes, but I also needed to be better at saying no. And just speaking up in general.
We hadn’t talked for five days, since the night I’d all but shoved him out of the house. The look that had been on his face had been one that resonated with me still, full of frustration and hurt. I had thought putting off our talk meant putting off the inevitable hurt, but instead it prolonged it. On both ends.
I missed him so much. It crossed my mind only every hour to send him a text. A random gif from one of our favorite shows, or from a movie we’d watched together. Or even a “How are you?” but even that felt impersonal, cold. He was my best friend; I shouldn’t have to ask how he was doing. I should already know.
So many times, I’d considered showing up to the cabin and surprising him. But I’d backed out every time, not wanting to push him if he wasn’t ready to forgive me. He’d given me space when I’d asked, and since he hadn’t reached out to me, I knew he still needed that space himself.
Plus, I still wasn’t the biggest fan of confrontation. And me going to him, initiating it, would feel just like that. But I knew I’d have to set that aside sooner or later. I couldn’t maintain this distance much longer. It was as if Keane held one end of the string that bound my heart and the further he got away from me, the more that string unraveled; the more vulnerable I felt.
I looked at my phone for probably the fiftieth time that day. I had to be the one to extend the olive branch. We likely wouldn’t ever be together the way we had before, but I had to have him as my best friend. I wouldn’t lie about my feelings, but I wouldn’t let them end the greatest friendship of my life, either.
I started to type out something when someone walked into the store.
Hope filled my chest out of nowhere, but the person who walked through the door was just a stranger. I stared at him, wondering if my mind was playing a trick on me somehow. Giving me a smile, he moved toward the back of the store, to the ukuleles. He didn’t give me a second glance, but the sensation that still filled me up confused me.
Where had that hope come from? It had slid into me unbidden but not necessarily unwelcome, filling in the dark spaces. I peered out the windows, but the parking lot was as black as the night sky above it, save for the glint of one vehicle parked near the back. Where Roger always parked his.
We were ten minutes to close and with only one customer in the store, I deemed it safe to begin the closing preparations. After calling Roger to the register to take over, I took my things to the back office and started the prep.
I set my phone down on the table, face up, glancing at it from time to time. The screen was dark, but still it kept my attention as I counted down the register for the day. If the current customer paid cash, I’d just have Roger bring me the amount for the purchase. I wanted to be out of the doors at exactly nine o’clock.
I flipped my phone screen over, hating that it silently taunted me, and resumed my activities.
It only took five minutes for me to flip the phone back over, but the screen was still black.
I needed to text him, I knew. I had no reason to wait for a text from him, especially this late in the day. He was probably settling down after a full day of activity, his body sore. In a way, I envied his current project at the cabin. My days had been filled with closing shifts at the store and while my days were mundane, they weren’t exactly exhausting. I imagined that if Keane was going through any bit of the same emotional turmoil that I was, wearing his body to the point of physical exhaustion probably carried him into sleep each night. I laid in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling until the light from the late spring dawn filled my room.
Roger called the office line to let me know the customer had paid with a check and that he’d start locking the door and begin the front-end closing preparations. His no-nonsense delivery was appreciated, and I couldn’t help myself, I felt bad for my curt remark to him earlier.