Page 31 of The Last Thing You Said

“Yep.”

“Her name is Joellen. She’s married with a couple of kids. They live out on Papyrus Lake.”

“That’s nice.”

“She can’t work Monday nights during the summer, so I need you to pick up another shift.”

Monday nights. Ben will be there.

“No.” It’s more of an exhale than a word.

“Look, Lucy, this isn’t a request. I need you to do this.”

“Can’t you ask Jeannie to do it? Or Rosemary?”

“Rosemary works the day shift. And Jeannie’s working five days.”

“What about Patty? Or hire another part-timer.”

She sighs. “Patty already works the Monday night shift. You know how hard it is to find good staff. Look how long it took me to find Joellen.”

“Mom. I can’t do it.”

“Lucy, please. We’re stretched pretty thin this summer as it is. I can’t hire another part-timer, especially when I had to hire someone to take Clayton’s place.”

I swallow hard and tell myself it’s not just about Ben.

“Mom,” I start, and my voice cracks. “It’s my only day off. The only day I get any time to myself, you know? This summer—this summer has been so hard already . . .”

She sighs and there’s a pause. Then, in that tender voice I’ve heard so much over the last ten months, she says, “It’s been almost a year, sweetheart. I know that Trixie was a good friend, the best friend, and we all loved her, but at some point you have to let go of this sadness. It’s time. It’s time to move on, to get on with your life.”

She reaches across the center console and squeezes my hand.

She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t, the counselors at school don’t, the ones who said that it was okay to be sad, but we had to learn that life goes on, that we need to move on, carry on.

I hated them for saying it.

“No,” I whisper into the window. Tears slip down my cheeks.

The car fills with a cloud of uncomfortable quiet that settles around us for the rest of the drive. When we get home, I run to the backyard to my escape, the lake. Shay won’t be down there at this time of night.

But Simon is.

He’s dragged two of the Adirondack chairs down to the beach. The sky is a dusky blue, not quite dark.

I’m surprised to see him here, but I’m not unhappy about it. He won’t tell me that it’s time to move on.

I wipe a hand across my cheeks to check for lingering tears. I sit down in the empty chair. “Hi,” I say.

“Hey,” he says. “Feels like I haven’t seen you for days. I’ve missed you. Are you feeling better?”

Last night, after my morning out on the boat with Emily and Ben, I’d been exhausted. I ignored Simon’s call and texted that I wasn’t feeling well, and I wouldn’t be able to go to the movies like we’d planned.

“Mm-hmm.”

He takes a long drink from his glass. “Sun tea. Mom made it today. You want some?”

He offers me his glass, but I shake my head. His fingers are stained sky blue.