A subtle spark, a gentle hum, ran through his veins, mixing with his ocean.
Cal stood on the deck of the yacht, leaning his elbows over the railing, watching the sun set. The cool wind blew strands of hair near his eyes, but the chill didn’t reach him. It couldn’t.
The orange and yellow bled into the horizon, pacifying him for a moment, allowing him to make peace with his very existence, the reasons for his loneliness. The shit he’d been consumed with at dinner burned off with the setting Santa Barbara sun. It disappeared faster than his mind could keep pace, enveloping him in darkness, shrouding the only light left on his person.
“Are you okay?” Michelle joined him, much later, touching Cal’s back, surprising him. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
Cal corrected his posture and glanced at his cousin. He took in a couple shallow breaths. “It’s over,” he finally exhaled, observing the water while loosely gripping the metal bar.
“What do you mean?”
“You heard me.”
“I thought you two were just having another fight.”
Cal refused to look at Michelle, but he still felt her eyes combing his jawline, his face. He gripped the railing and let go, gripped and let go, continuing to gaze at the ocean.
“What happened?”
“Michelle...”
“I’m sorry.”
They both peered out to sea, Cal searching for the something he’d been looking for since turning sixteen.
“I thought she loved me.” He continued to stare ahead.
“She does love you.”
“No.” He rejected the idea of love looking like this, always rejecting love no matter its form. “No,” he repeated, dropping his head.
“Cal, she’s thirty-six years old. You know what she wants.”
“Don’t you start with me too.” He glanced up. “We went into this with open eyes. She knew who I was. She changed her mind.”
“A woman can change her mind.” Michelle turned her head, then remained silent a moment.
“What is it?” Cal asked seconds later, trying to meet his cousin’s gaze. “Why are you upset?”
“It’s nothing.” She scrubbed a hand under her nose, and Cal stepped on her foot, gently tapping her blue suede cowboy boot. “Abe left,” she finally muttered and sighed. “He already found his own place.”
“Oh, Mishy.” Cal pulled her against his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
“Great timing, right? Both of us. Alone.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I am. This is me saying something. We’ve had trouble for years. I’ll be okay. It was amicable.”
“You don’t sound amicable.”
“I am,” she retorted.
“I am, I am,” Cal whispered.
Both of them looked out to sea again, the tranquil current bucking against their restless souls. Cal released her shoulder and inhaled the moist, salty air.
“I think I’m going to move in with Aunt Constance.”
“Michelle…”
“I want to.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit rash?”
“She did so much to help my mother when she was sick. I want to move in with her.”
“Are you sure?” He raised his brows.
“Yes.” She smiled. “I’ve thought about it. A lot. It will give me purpose. I need this. It will be good for her, and I think it will be good for me too.”
“Is she sleeping now?”
“Like a baby.” Michelle yawned, then covered her mouth. “Sorry.”
“I’ve heard that fucking word enough to last a lifetime.”
She bumped his shoulder. “They’re not so bad.”
“You’re amazing,” he interjected, glancing at her, smiling a little, relieved one of the evening’s issues had been put to rest. His mother would have someone to care for her. Constantly. Someone Cal trusted completely. The other “issue” had supposedly also gone to sleep.
“Go to bed.” He gazed at the water but felt Michelle’s eyes dissecting him again. “I’ll be fine.”
“You go to bed.” She feigned a smile. “Let her know you love her.”
“I have.” Tilting his face away, he gripped the railing again. “I’m tired.” He paused. “I’m tired…”
“You look old too.” Michelle smirked, then kissed his temple. “Tired and old, Cal.”
* * *
Cal stayed out much longer, gazing at the trail of moonlight reflecting off the water, certain a little boy dragged the luminosity along behind them with a fishing pole.
Maybe Cal was the boy. He used to be. Years had passed, though. That was a long time ago. Michelle had been right — he was old.
But the moon was still his friend, the ocean an even greater one. The panacea he couldn’t summon at dinner found him now. He was light, airy, without the need to fix anything. A subtle spark, a gentle hum, ran through his veins, mixing with his ocean.
And the sounds.
The water lapping against the stern.
The purr of the yacht engine.
The voice of his mother.
Cal smiled. Sleeping and sick and she couldn’t be silenced. No disease could take away her sharp tongue. She was hard to quiet even when dreaming.
Tilting his head toward the sky, Cal blinked against the sheath of wind. The clouds sparse, his mind full, thinking of Constance. For years, he’d taken her for granted. Looking up at the stars, he shook his head. Now, Cal would gladly take his mother exactly as she’d been — a million times stronger, bolder in fact — if it meant she wouldn’t suffer.
If it meant she could remember him…
Constance Prescott. All her ways, all her life lessons, had imprinted onto Cal’s very existence, his very soul, deeper than any other woman on this godforsaken planet probably ever would or could have. The impression she made like the light from the sun against the moon during an eclipse. Or like the phenomenon he observed now: the light from the moon reflecting over the ocean.
If he stayed out long enough, perhaps that little boy — the one pulling the moon by the string attached to his fishing pole — would lead Cal home.