“Sorry,” I say in way of explanation for paying attention to my phone. “How are things going with you?” I attempt to change the conversation to what has always been Victoria’s second favorite subject: herself.
My time at Victoria’s is thankfully brief, due to an outing with the aquarium that has me leaving with a scribbled ‘thank you’ note left on her fridge before she wakes up.
I think of Lincoln’s words as I make my way to the visitor’s spot I’d parked in last night, his warning for me to not be alone. The sentiment hasn’t left me, causing me to look over my shoulder at every sound.
Once again, nothing seems amiss. There’s nothing on my car, nothing tainting the day—except Lincoln’s unexplained absence.
I make my way to the marina, my chest growing tighter until it’s hard to breathe as I park in the large gravel lot.
I’ve been mentally preparing for this moment since the first day I woke up in the hospital, and though I’m healed, and my thoughts are beginning to settle, I still feel a sense of unease as I stare across the dark, choppy ocean.
I unlatch my seat belt and grab my coat, locking my car. I walk toward the dock, one foot in front of the other. I think of Maggie and the countless fears she’s faced, of my mom flying home to face her fears, of Lincoln taking the field again after blowing out his shoulder.
The floating dock shakes under my weight, stirring additional fears to life.
“Raegan!” Lois calls to me from a dozen feet ahead. She turns around, walking toward me in her puffy, black coat. “How are you?” she asks.
I smile, pulling in a deep breath through my nose. “I’m good. A little uneasy, but mostly good.”
She nods. “We’re glad you’re here.”
Greg smiles at me in greeting as we reach the end of the dock, my hands tucked into my pockets, my hood up because all my hats and gloves are still at home.
“You look cold,” he says.
“Well, that’s good. Cause I’m actually freezing.”
He laughs, offering his hand to help me come aboard. This feels substantial and equal parts foreign and familiar.
Breathe. Count. Breathe. Smile.
Aside from my nerves that leave my hands and legs feeling unsteady, I know my co-workers are aware of my personal situation. My name isn’t a secret, and they’re all well read, keeping apprised of details and news that I rarely make time for. No one has said a word about the situation to me, however.
The wind blows harshly against my skin, and though it stings, I’m pretty sure I’d be shivering even if it were hot out.
“That’s my girl,” Lois says, her eyes too heavy with sympathy for me to believe she doesn’t know about my dad. Her black coat falls nearly to her knees, a black beanie covering most of her hair. Wide silver rings cover most of her fingers that dig into my arms with a security that feels maternal, making my eyes grow wet. “You still feeling okay?” she asks, handing me a lifejacket that I cling to a moment before being able to move to put it on. I force another smile as my breath leaves me like a short stack of smoke.
Lois nods like she understands the words I’m not able to vocalize. “You know, you’re always welcome to stay with me if you ever need anything.”
The invitation might be a welcomed reprieve if it didn’t threaten to break all the carefully placed lies I’ve constructed to remind myself things are going to improve. I don’t want anything to feel too permanent because I’m not ready for there to be a next because that implies there’s an after, which forces me to consider the before.
“Thanks,” I tell her. “I appreciate it.”
She nods again, reading my answer and biting her lip. She’s always been able to read people so well. She once told me it was because she’s an empath, able to pick up on other’s emotions and feelings—sometimes, even when the people experiencing them aren’t able to recognize them. There have been too many instances where I’ve witnessed her do this first hand not to believe her. I also think that Poppy has the same ability, which is likely why helping people has always been a draw to her.
We go through the checklist, the order offering a sense of comfort as we get everything prepped.
The salty air cleans my lungs and mind, making everything seem father away and smaller as the turquoise water laps at the boat, and though I once found the sound to be soothing like a familiar lullaby, I have to remind myself more than once to breathe, keeping far from the edge.
“Raegan, look!” Lois calls once the engine has been cut and the others begin moving around, gathering tools to run tests and recordings.
I look out where she’s pointing in time to see Blue crest the surface. Tears blur my vision and make my entire body feel too warm. I knew he was okay, but I didn’t realize until now how badly I needed to see him.
I stay several feet back, too far for him to likely see me, but he and the other three members of his pod restore another piece inside of me that I know I’d never be able to fix alone.
“He sees you,” Lois says confidentially, perched at the opposing corner of the boat. “Look at him showing off. He’s missed you.”
I don’t know if there’s any truth to what she says, but something in my heart prays it is.
When we arrive back at the docks, we’re all soggy and cold, and Kenny is making references to “soggy bottoms” with a thick British accent because each staffer seems to spend their evenings watching The Great British Bakeoff. The joke is often used, yet we still laugh, cleaning the boat and completing the checklist of items we complete with each outing—the rhythm and routine feeling more familiar.
“You want to grab a bite to eat?” Lois asks as we step onto the slick dock.
“I would, but I have a shift at the coffee shop soon.” Soon being relative since I technically have three hours, but with the way Lois is so fluent at reading my thoughts and feelings, sitting across from her without an ocean full of distractions would leave me without a single defense. “Raincheck?”
She nods. “Definitely. My offer stands. Always.” She hugs me, tightening her grip rather than loosening it like so many do.
We take short, careful steps to keep from sliding until we hit the concrete where we avoid the puddles forming throughout the parking lot.
“Is that a friend?” Lois asks, her gaze directed in the distance though mine’s still on where to step. I glance up to see a black truck parked beside my Honda. The driver’s side door opens, and Lincoln unfolds from the seat, stepping into the fine mist that seems to be hanging in the air rather than actually falling. He’s wearing a gray sweatshirt covered in a lightweight black jacket and a pair of jeans that look like they were made for him cover his long legs.
“My brother’s best friend,” I explain.
“Is he doing okay?”
I shrug. “This has been hard on him.”
She presses her lips into a thin line, her eyes reflecting the painful words she hears with my silence. “I’ll see you next weekend?”
I nod, and she reaches to hug me again.
I wish she’d continue walking me to my car, buying me an easy excuse to avoid Lincoln as well. I tuck my hands back into my pockets, making a mental note to stop and pick up some gloves tonight after my shift. Lincoln kicks forward, his gaze sweeping across me. “Are you okay?”