“Lolly, listen to me.” Rory put his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him, his eyes searching my own. I looked at him long and hard, etching him in my mind. All those years of loving Rory culminating in this moment. Root beer and shiny pennies, Daphne’s baby belly laughs when he’d toss her above his head, the length of his lean body against mine, the smell of him, bourbon and oak and sweet tea. The feel of his mouth, so tender and strong it broke my heart.
“I can’t let you go,” he said, and the words were broken, a plea. “We can try long-distance. We’ll figure it out, make it work.”
“Maybe. Maybe we could limp along for another few years long-distance, but what then?” I asked gently, looking him in the eye. “What happens after you’re all done? What if you can’t get a job in Seattle? You know how slim those odds are. Are you willing to do all those years of school and possibly never get to do the thing you love? Rory, this isn’t going to work.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but the words shriveled on his tongue. I saw the light go from his eyes. He was glimpsing that future; he was glimpsing the truth.
“I don’t want to live without you,” he said again simply. He was crying. I watched him, feeling a strange detachment. Inside I was hollow and cavernous, just echoes where my heart had been beating seconds before.
“I know,” I said gently. “But I can’t let you ruin your entire life trying to keep me.” I wrestled off my engagement ring, holding it out to him, insistent. Tears made silver tracks down his cheeks and mine. The emerald solitaire caught the light of a rising full moon. It flashed dark and brilliant, a fleeting spark swallowed by the darkness.
“Don’t do this, Lolly,” he pleaded. “I can’t let you go.” He held out his hands, palms up, refusing to take the ring, refusing to do what needed to be done.
I looked out over the water, away from him, steeling myself for the rest of my life. Almost without thinking I drew back my arm and in one smooth motion tossed the ring as far out as I could into the water. It glinted for an instant in the light of the moon, arcing down toward the waves, and then it was gone.
“The truth is, we’re already done.”
36
“Julio, where’s Dad?”I walked back into the Eatery from making soap at Eve’s just in time for lunch to find Julio manning the grill alone. Dad was nowhere to be seen. That was unusual.
Julio didn’t hear me as he flipped a half dozen Danish meatballs in a skillet while some sort of terrible screaming heavy metal music pulsated faintly from his headphones. I poked my head into the dining room. There were a few customers seated in booths, and Aunt Gert, wearing a sixties block-print shift and giant bug-eyed white glasses, appeared to be coercing a group of bird-watchers into dessert. The bird-watchers all wore khaki vests and had binoculars around their necks and were nodding halfheartedly as Aunt Gert extolled the virtues of our pie. I returned to the kitchen and tapped Julio on the shoulder.
“Where’s Dad?” I yelled, trying to be heard over the music he was listening to. Julio pulled off his headphones and jerked his head toward my office as he plated the meatballs and added a heaping scoop of potato salad.
“I saw him go in there.”
The office door was closed. I was sure I’d left it ajar when I left.
“Dad?” I opened the door and poked my head inside.
He was sitting in my office chair, his head bowed, his entire posture one of defeat. My desk drawer was open and in his hand was the devastating amended tax bill for King County.
He looked up. “Hey, girly.” His face was haggard, voice a little hoarse. It looked like he’d aged ten years in the few hours I’d been gone. “I was looking for a pen. Found this.” He cleared his throat. “That’s a pretty big number. Sort of a shock to the system.”
My heart sank. “I was going to tell you,” I said quietly, slipping inside and latching the door behind me. “I just hadn’t found the right time. I wanted to have some sort of plan in place before I told you about the tax increase.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to figure out what I could say that would sound reassuring.
He laced his fingers and rested his arms on his knees. His hands were shaking. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad. I don’t know how we’re going to get through this one.”
“I don’t either,” I admitted, perching on the edge of the desk. I still had absolutely nothing concrete to offer. “Maybe we can do a crowd-funding campaign. Like GoFundMe. People like those. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
He sighed. “You’re right. But there comes a time when a man has to face facts, no matter how hard he tries. This might be that time.” The resignation in his voice alarmed me. He looked lost.
“Hey, don’t give up yet,” I urged. “We’ll think of something.”
He sat back and winced, rolling his shoulders and massaging his left bicep.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “Just getting old. I was cleaning a bird’s nest out of the sign in front this morning, and I think I pulled a muscle in my shoulder. It’s feeling a little numb and tingly. Nothing a little Advil won’t set right.”
“Be careful. You’re not a spring chicken,” I chided, feeling like a mother hen. I took the tax letter from him and tucked it back in the drawer, out of sight. “Let Julio get up on the ladder next time, okay?”
“Speaking of Julio, I’d better get back to the grill.” He got to his feet slowly and cast another worried look at the drawer. There was something alarming in the slump of his shoulders. Was it only fatigue or did it spell defeat?
“Dad, why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off? Julio and I can manage for a few hours.” I paused, eyeing him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He waved off my concern. “I’ve been carrying the weight of this place on my shoulders for a lot of years. I’m not about to stop now. Just feeling a little tired is all, can’t seem to clear my head today. I’ll just pop an Advil and have another cup of coffee and be right as rain.”
