I chuckle. “Sorry, Call, but those dogs look like they’d switch sides the second someone throws a sausage over the fence.”
Calvin bursts out laughing. He hugs both dogs as they happily lick his face.
“You’re probably right. But they’re still lovely. Aren’t you? Aren’t you?”
I rub my eyes and I can’t help but smile.
I’m not sure if I still fit in this scene, but I don’t mind watching it play out.
Calvin heads back inside and returns with two bottles of water. He tosses one to me and we sit down in the lounge chairs.
“So, Arcadia,” he begins. “You like it in that cult of calm? What do you even do all day?”
I twist the cap off my bottle, taking a slow sip.
“The place is alright. Honestly, most of the time, I do absolutely nothing.”
Calvin raises a brow mid-sip. “Wait, what? Aren’t you supposed to be doing… something? Work on yourself, getting sober?”
I give him a look, flicking both hands up.
“Mate, I haven’t had a drink in three months. That’s a quarter of a year. Have you looked at yourself lately?”
He laughs. I don’t.
I huff under my breath. Getting sober. Everyone thinks I'm like my father, drunk by sunrise so he could keep his hands steady enough for dock work.
Sure, I had my patterns, but I’d always been careful not to become like him. Well, physically addicted, at least. As for everything else? Fine.
Dad got himself thrown off the pier, I ended up face-down on the filthy floor at Tarik’s Shawarma.
Maybe the people around me had a point. But then again, Calvin and plenty of other McKennas are heavy drinkers too. Yet somehow, I’m the only one who got an intervention.
Whatever. At least I’m in a better place now.
Calvin looks at me with a flash of regret. I pat his knee to let him know it’s all fine.
“I have daily meet-ups with Yosh,” I begin, feeling a little awkward bringing him up to Calvin. “Usually in the morning, an hour or two at most. Nothing too intense. We just… talk. Not always about heavy stuff. Sometimes we just have conversations, and things come up naturally. If they don’t, that’s fine too. We hang out, he listens. And then he sort of nudges me toward things I haven’t looked at before. Makes me think. He helps me see things differently.”
I smile, thinking about the time we spent together.
That horrible first sit-down. The night I cried my eyes out on the beach. Surfing. Flamingos. Hanging out with his friends. That charming ruin of his place. All our conversations.
And then it all starts coming out.
“Yosh is really good at what he does. He’s smart. He reads these boring books every day and then dumps weird facts on me, and somehow we end up philosophizing about it.” I scoff, shaking my head. “Just…talking. Proper conversations. Not surface-level shit.”
I laugh a little.
“He’s patient. I mean, you have to if you need to handle me, right? He teaches yoga and meditation, and he’s insanely curious—about people, ideas, the way things work. He asks questions most people wouldn’t even think to ask. Oh, and he does acupuncture. You know, where tiny needles go into pressure points to help rebalance your body. It’s so fascinating, Cal.”
I don’t know why I’m still talking, but I can’t seem to stop.
“He’s got a sharp tongue too. Like me, I suppose. Difference is, he actually thinks before he speaks. And he surfs. We both do. He grows his own herbs for healing and teas. And did you know he has this huge collection of colorful crystals that he—”
Calvin cuts me off with a grin. “Yeah, I know. The guy is a weirdo.”
My fist immediately finds his shoulder.
