Page 33 of WASP

“I have chairs.” Her dad’s voice was warm and low as he tilted his head to the stack of chairs piled next to the tiny riverside shed.

“Too much effort required for chairs, but I’ll take the hot chocolate,” Max joked, curling her body up into a criss-cross position. “C’mon, pull up some dock.” She patted the ground next to her. “Watch out for the seagull shit.”

Her dad chuckled, handing her a mug as he took a seat next to her, taking a large bite off the top of the fluffy white whipped-cream mountain.

“That can’t be healthy,” Max muttered, her dad grinning like a little kid.

“It’s not, but it sure is fun.”

They sat like that for a moment. The sun warmed their faces as they sat cross-legged on the dock looking out over the water. They each watched as a bald eagle swooped down onto the dock across the way, a fresh hunt clutched in its talons.

“It’s like you have your own private viewing of Animal Planet,” Max muttered, bringing her mug to her lips, the creamy chocolate liquid coating her tongue.

When Max was younger, the only child of two lifelong members of the Navy, she’d kept a notebook full of the descriptions of the weather and the animals from all the various places they had lived. There had been Southern California (not the fun part, but the part out in the desert that she remembered being incredibly hot). From there, they had moved to North Carolina, Florida, and a brief stopover in Rhode Island before landing in Maryland ahead of her senior year of high school. But this place had never really felt like home to her. Especially after her mom passed away.

“I’ve got a bird guidebook upstairs I can grab. We can get the binoculars out like when you were little.” A tiny, hopeful smile lit up her dad’s face, and Max couldn’t help the twinge of guilt in her chest. She really should visit more. They were, after all, the only family they each had left.

“I’d like that.” She smiled, taking the mug from her dad’s outstretched hand as he got to his feet, disappearing up the wooden staircase.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She grinned, seeing Annie’s name and a new message from her.

Annie 11:34 AM

Hope you’re having a good Christmas! Did you decide what to spend your pickle winnings on?

Max 11:35 AM

Merry Christmas. I did indeed. My pickle winnings were enough to purchase one way’s worth of gas to drive down to Maryland. Inflation’s a bitch.

Annie 11:35 AM

Truth. What are you doing in Maryland?

Max 11:36 AM

Visiting with my dad for a few days. We’re about to log some solid bird-watching hours. You?

Annie 11:37 AM

Sounds relaxing. I survived Christmas with my family so far, and now we’ve all kind of spread out for the usual Dillinger post-Christmas morning crash. If you see anything fun, take a picture and send it to me?

Max leaned forward, grinning as she braced her weight on her forearms, typing out a snarky response while getting an idea. She opened up the camera app, fixing her hair in the mirrored view, snapping a photo of herself: sun on her skin, the dock and hillside behind her as a backdrop. But it was the smile looking back at her in the image that stopped her. It wasn’t forced; it wasn’t fake. It was her real, genuine smile reserved for only those closest to her. When had she decided Annie crossed that threshold?

She sent the photo off without a second thought as the dock jostled, her dad returning with a guidebook and binoculars in hand. Her phone buzzed again.

Annie 11:38 AM

What’s this? A rare sight to behold. The elusive species Maximus Martinus spotted in the wild. Truly glad this moment was documented. ;)

“Uh oh,” her dad said, sitting down on the dock beside her. “What’s her name?”

Heat rose in Max’s cheeks at her dad’s insinuation. She shoved her phone into her pocket, ready to explain. “It’s not like that with Annie.”

Her dad shifted, setting the items down before he picked up his mug. “Okay, sure.” He nodded. “And why isn’t it like that with Annie?”

Max let out an exasperated sigh. She and her dad weren’t the closest, but there had always been one thing that bonded them together. Her dad, a US Navy Admiral and Commandant of Midshipmen at the Naval Academy, was a sucker for gossip.

“It’s not like that because Annie is a serious person. Like, she wants to get married and settle down with the white-picket-fence-and-two-point-five-kids type of girl. And I still haven’t really even figured out a career yet.” Max shrugged as if that settled that, but a part of her knew that wasn’t the full truth.