This Is What Happy Looks Like(42)
Author: Jennifer E. Smith

Graham touched the corner of the packet, sliding it closer. He suddenly understood how desperate he was for whatever was inside it, whatever scrap of knowledge about Ellie O’Neill was available to him, no matter what it was, or what it might mean.

The envelope stared back at him, enigmatic and official.

It looked like a secret.

It was probably a mistake.

But after a moment, he reached out and took it anyway.

From: [email protected]

Sent: Wednesday, July 3, 2013 1:21 PM

To: [email protected]

Subject: white flag

Any chance we can call a truce? I know you’re still upset with me, but I could really use a friend right now. (And not just any friend…)

Chapter 15

It was too hot to do much of anything. Once they’d finished rearranging the window displays, Ellie pulled a stool over near the fan and sat there with her face pointed at the blades, but it did little more than move the warm air around the shop. The only customers who were brave enough to venture inside all day had left before making it too far past the doorway, the stuffiness of the place proving even less tolerable than the sun-baked streets outside.

Finally, around two o’clock, Mom stood up. “I feel like I’m sitting inside a furnace,” she said. “Let’s close up and get out of here.”

Ellie spoke into the fan, her words vibrating. “Where should we go?”

But she already knew the answer. They would go where they always went.

Half an hour later, they were on their way to the beach. Not the one in town where all the tourists went to sun themselves on the rocks like seals, or the kiddie beach with the lifeguards and the roped-off swimming areas, or even the sandy one by the fishing pier.

They went to the cove.

After hanging a sign on the door of the shop—FULLY COOKED; BACK TOMORROW—they’d stopped home to change into swimsuits, grab some towels, and pick up the dog, and now they were headed to the little spit of water not far from their house, a beach so private they’d come to think of it as their own. Ever since Ellie was little, this is where they’d escaped together, bringing sunblock and towels in the summer or cider and blankets in the winter. They’d spent countless afternoons wading in the surf, collecting rocks, and spying on the birds. It was their place, and until she’d met Graham here a couple of weeks ago, Ellie had never before invited anyone else. Not even Quinn.

Now, as they made their way down toward the water, she found herself scanning the layer of stones that cobbled the beach, wondering if it was possible to find more than one heart in a place like this. Mom was laying out the towels in their usual spot, and Bagel had gone crashing into the water, bold and brave and full of bravado, only to be chased right back out again by the most pathetic of waves.

Ellie kicked off her flip-flops and waded in, shivering happily at the chill of the water, which lapped around her knees. Her feet were frozen and her shoulders were warm, and she tipped her head back and closed her eyes, the events of the morning melting right off her.

“Three whole weeks,” Mom said as she joined her. “I’m going to miss this.”

Ellie didn’t need to ask what she meant. In her whole life, she’d never been away for longer than a few days, and Mom still assumed she’d be leaving soon for the poetry course on a scholarship that didn’t exist. But it wasn’t just that. This was her way of preparing herself for something much bigger. When she drove down to Boston and dropped Ellie off in that empty dorm room, it would be a preview of the next summer, when she would go off to college for real. This trip, this August: it was like the beginning of the end. It marked the start of their last year together.

And so she knew what it meant when Mom said three whole weeks, and she knew she should reach out across the surf and take her salty hand and say I know or I’ll miss this too. But some small and hardened piece of her heart kept her staring straight ahead at the invisible seam where the water met the sky.

“Three weeks isn’t that long,” she said finally, her words crisp and unforgiving.

Mom nodded, her eyes far away. She couldn’t have known what Ellie was really thinking: that three weeks was everything, and that she might not get that chance. She’d saved up $624.08 so far, and if she kept working at this pace, she’d have just under a thousand by August. But it wasn’t nearly enough, and the thought of saying no—of giving up this opportunity, or possibly even worse, asking for help—twisted at something inside her, made her feel miserable and hopeless and mean.

On the shore, Bagel was dashing back and forth, distraught at being left behind. When Ellie whistled, he plunged into the water with a little whine, keeping his nose high as he paddled toward them.

“Listen,” Mom said. “I know—”

But Ellie didn’t want to hear it; she took a deep lungful of air, then dove into the water, the slap of cold making her whole body vibrate, right down to her teeth. Through slitted eyes, she could see Bagel’s churning paws as he circled her in alarm, and she used her arms to push away the water, propelling herself forward several strokes before bursting back through to the surface.

To her surprise, Mom was at her side, shaking water out of her ear. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she said, and Ellie used one hand to wipe her eyes. The ground beneath them had sloped sharply away, and both of them were treading water, their feet busy beneath the surface.

“I wasn’t trying to,” she said, leaning back so that she was floating, the waves loud in her ears, the taste of salt on her lips.

“I know you’re still mad at me about Graham,” Mom said, and Ellie looked over at her. There were beads of water on her eyelashes, and her face looked very pale against the water. “You’ve been so quiet the last couple of weeks, and I know you must be upset, so I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

A wave lifted them gently, then lowered them again, and a few seagulls wheeled overhead. The sun off the water was uncomfortably bright, and Ellie squinted against the glare, unsure what to say. It was true that she was upset about Graham. She thought she’d been managing just fine from a distance. But seeing him today, being near him—it was like the pull of a magnet, powerful and inevitable. Even now, treading water under the high globe of the sun, she felt her equilibrium had disappeared. She’d walked out of the deli hours ago, but some essential part of her—something too important to lose—had been left behind.