“I’d love to.” And they kept talking, catching up on the latest news, on what the future whispered to them. It was good having her, it felt a bit like with Callum. Sofia was another of her homes, a person that made her feel safe. And she was glad life put them together back in the days, when none of them knew that life was more than Sailor Moon’s cartoons or ice creams.
52
CALLUM
Remember to Forget - Passenger
It was tough.Tougher than he expected—listening to his taid lose the threads of conversation, seeing his gaze drift somewhere else, only to return and ask the same questions again.
It was hard. Harder than he’d thought it would be.
As he rounded the corner to grab some wood for the fire, he found his grandfather seated on one of the benches in the backyard, his eyes set on the ocean.
Until now, his mother had been the mediator between them, but it felt right—now that Alejandra was relaxing in his bedroom—that he sat with him. No matter where the conversation went. No matter how painful it might become. He wanted him to know, somehow, that he was there.
“Hello, taid.”
The old man raised his gaze, and for a second it looked clear. Not the cloudy, confused look Callum had seen so many times since coming home.
“Callum. Sit here, son.” He smiled wide. There was recognition in his eyes, and warmth swelled in Callum’s chest.
His taid had been his father figure, the only one. They used to go fishing in Cardigan Bay, back when it was still his job. Even after retirement, he’d looked at the ocean the same way Callum had seen Alejandra look at it, like it was sacred. Pure awe. Pure reverence.
“How do you feel?” Callum asked, sitting beside him. There was a time when he’d been amazed by how tall the old man was. Now, hunched with age, Callum towered over him.
“Good. Calan Mai always makes me happy. Reminds me of your nain.” There was a soft, faraway look in his eyes. “I miss her so much.”
Callum couldn’t say much about her. She died when he was still a baby, no memories beyond a few blurry photos and the stories told by his taid and mam. But she had always sounded like someone he would have loved to know. Someone who could have guided him.
“She loved the ocean passionately. Every time she could, she’d go down to the beach, knitting, breathing in the salt air,” his taid said with a wistful smile. Then he leaned in closer, grinning. “Or to avoid me.”
Callum chuckled. That felt right. That felt like home. That felt like him again.
“How are you, son?”
“Good. Very good,” he admitted. “In love.”
His taid wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “And who is she?”
Right. Short-term memory was unreliable these days.
“Her name’s Alejandra. She’s Spanish. A surfer. She loves the ocean like nain did. Even though… she had a bad experience, and she’s trying to find her way back to it.”
“A surfer,” he repeated, smiling. Then, without warning: “Reminds me of that asshole of your father.”
Callum blinked. “What?”
“Yeah, that Mick. What an idiot.” He waved him off.
Was he serious? Or was his mind playing tricks again? Had he just said that some surfer named Mick was his father? Somehow that name felt familiar, but there could be so many Mick he had met along the years. Callum barely had time to steady himself before his taid turned toward him again. There was something unbearably lucid in his eyes now, as though the fog had lifted just long enough for him to realize it was there. His taid gripped his hand tightly.
“I feel like I’m slipping away, Callum.”
The words hollowed something inside his chest. Callum searched his face instinctively, desperate to understand what he meant, desperate for it not to mean what he already feared it did.
“What do you mean?”
His taid’s mouth trembled.
