Despite the weekend fishing, or maybe because of it, our time together didn’t feel quite the same. Oh, we kissed and Bryce told me that he loved me, he still held my hand when we sat on the couch, but he wasn’t as…open as he’d seemed to be in the past, if that makes any sense. Occasionally I got the feeling that he was thinking of something else, something he didn’t want to share; there were even moments when he seemed to forget I was there at all. It didn’t happen often, and whenever he caught himself, he would apologize for his distraction, although he never explained what was preoccupying him. Yet after dinner, when we were on the porch saying goodbye, his demeanor was clingy, as though he was reluctant to let me go.
Despite my general aversion to leaving the house, we went for a walk on the beach on Friday afternoon. We were the only ones out, and we held hands as we strolled near the water’s edge. Waves rolled lazily toward the shore, pelicans skimmed the breakers, and though we brought the camera with us, we hadn’t yet taken any pictures. It made me realize that I wanted a photo of the two of us together, since we didn’t have a single one. But no one was around to take it, so I remained quiet and eventually we turned back toward the truck.
“What do you want to do this weekend?” I asked.
He took a few steps before answering.
“I’m not going to be around. I have to go fishing with my grandfather again.”
I felt my shoulders sink. Was he already pulling away from me, so things would be easier when the time came to say goodbye? But if that was the case, why did he continue to tell me that he loved me? Why were his embraces so prolonged? In my confusion, I was able to force out only a single syllable.
“Oh.”
Hearing my disappointment, he gently stopped me. “I’m sorry. It’s just something I have to do.”
I stared at him. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No,” he said. “There’s nothing at all.”
For the first time since we were together, I didn’t believe him.
* * *
On Saturday, bored again, I tried to study for my tests, thinking the better I did, the more protection I would have in case I bombed the finals. But because I’d done all the reading and assignments and I’d already studied all week, it felt like overkill. I knew I wasn’t going to have any problems and eventually drifted to the porch.
Feeling fully prepared with all my schoolwork behind me was an odd sensation, but it also made me realize why Bryce was so much farther ahead academically than I was. It wasn’t simply because he was intelligent; homeschooling meant cutting out all the nonacademic activities. At my school, there were breaks between classes, minutes for students to settle down at the beginning of every class, school announcements, club sign-ups, fire drills, and longish lunch breaks that were akin to social hours. In class, teachers often had to slow their lessons for the benefit of students who struggled even more than I did, and all those things added up to hours of wasted time.
Even so, I still preferred going to school. I liked seeing my friends, and frankly, the thought of spending day after day with my mom gave me the chills. Besides, social skills were important, too, and even through Bryce seemed perfectly normal, some people—like me, for instance—benefited from mixing with others. Or that’s what I wanted to believe, anyway.
I was pondering all of this while I waited on the porch for my aunt to get back from the shop. My mind wandered to Bryce and I tried to imagine what he was doing on the boat. Was he helping to drag in the net or did they have a machine for that? Or was there no net at all? Was he gutting fish or did they do that at the dock, or was someone else responsible? It was hard to picture, mainly because I’d never been fishing, never been on the boat, and had no idea what they were trying to catch.
It was around that time that I heard crunching in the gravel drive. It was still too early for my aunt to be home, so I had no idea who it could be. To my surprise, I saw the Trickett family van and I heard the sound of the hydraulics being engaged. Grasping the rail, I slowly descended the steps, reaching the bottom when I saw Bryce’s mom rolling toward me.
“Mrs. Trickett?” I asked.
“Hi, Maggie. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“Not at all,” I said. “Bryce is out fishing with his grandfather.”
“I know.”
“Is he all right? He didn’t fall off the boat or something like that?” I frowned, feeling a surge of anxiety.
“I doubt he fell overboard,” she assured me. “I’m expecting him back around five.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, coming to a stop at the foot of the steps. “I went by your aunt’s shop a little earlier and she said it would be all right if I came by. I wanted to speak with you.”
Because it felt funny towering over her, I took a seat on the steps. Up close, she was as pretty as ever, the sunlight illuminating her eyes like emerald prisms.
“What can I do for you?”
“Well…first off, I wanted to tell you that I’m really impressed with your camera work. You have wonderful instincts. It’s extraordinary how far you’ve come in such a short time. It took me years to get to where you are.”
“Thank you. I’ve had good teachers.” She moved her hands to her lap and I sensed her unease. I knew she hadn’t driven here to talk to me about photography. Clearing my throat, I went on. “When is your husband coming home?”
“Soon, I think. I’m not sure of the exact date, but it’ll be good to have him back. It’s not always easy raising three boys alone.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. At the same time, your kids are pretty extraordinary. You’ve done an incredible job.”
She glanced away before clearing her throat. “Did I ever tell you about Bryce after my accident?”
“No.”
“Obviously, it was a very hard time, but thankfully the army allowed Porter to work from home for the first six months, so he could take care of me and the kids while we got the house retrofitted for wheelchair access. Eventually, though, he had to go back to work. I was still in a lot of pain and I wasn’t moving nearly as well as I do now. Richard and Robert were four at the time, and they were a real handful. Tons of energy, picky eaters, messy. Bryce pretty much had to become the man of the house while his dad was at work, even though he was only nine years old. In addition to having to look after his brothers, he had to help take care of me, too. He read to them, entertained them, cooked for them, got them in the tub, put them to bed. All of it. But because of me, he also had to do things that a kid should never have to do, like helping me in the bathroom or even getting me dressed. He didn’t complain, but I still feel bad about that. Because he had to grow up more quickly than other kids his age.” When she sighed, I noticed her face seemed to be creased with lines of regret. “After that, he was never a kid again. I don’t know whether that’s been a good thing or a bad thing.”
I tried and failed to come up with an adequate response. Finally: “Bryce is one of the most extraordinary people I’ve ever met.”
She turned toward the water, but I had the sense she wasn’t really seeing it.