45

On a Sunday morning in early May, Ma and I drove out to Whitefish Bay on Lake Superior. It was a beautiful day, clear and calm, with only a few puffy clouds high up in the dark-blue sky. We parked near the lighthouse and walked to the beach.

Ma had called ahead, and the man we were renting the boat from was waiting at his dock when we got there. We stepped into the small green rowboat, and Ma took up the oars. I let my finger run through the freezing water.

When we were far enough out, Ma put down the oars, and we stayed still for a moment. I had brought along Dad’s fountain pen, because the night before, I’d wondered if it was the same one he’d used to write love letters to that other woman. He had lived with this big fat lie — by cheating on Ma, he also had cheated on me.

“We should put the pen in the box,” I said.

“Don’t you want to keep it?” Ma asked.

I shook my head. “It’s better to let it go.”

Saying those words made me think of Randle. For a moment, I felt guilty about letting my mind wander to him while we were saying goodbye to Dad. But then I looked at Ma holding the box over the water. She smiled at me and opened it so I could add the pen next to the stones we’d put inside to make sure the box would sink.

“It would be better if we had his ashes,” Ma said.

“I know,” I said. “But this is all we have.”

“We also have our memories,” Ma said. “We’ll hang on to those as well — the good ones at least.”

“So can you think of him now without getting mad?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes. As long as I think of all the good times that we shared.”

I looked out on the water and quietly said, “I love you, Dad. Goodbye.”

Ma whispered goodbye too and then slipped the box into the water. Together we watched it sink beneath the surface, out of sight.

After a moment, Ma bent forward to touch me, but the boat swayed dangerously and she had to catch herself. “I guess I’ll hug you later,” she said, and we had to laugh because it felt so clumsy.

We rowed back to shore, and when we were in the car again, Ma opened her purse, pulled out a folder, and put it on my lap. “I spoke to a realtor, and she gave me this list of possible houses for us. Want to go and look at them when we get back?”

“I sure do,” I said.

Ma smiled and reached over to put her hand on mine. She started the car, and we drove east along Lakeshore Drive. Soon we passed a sign announcing: Pyramid — 8 miles.

Ahead, I saw an osprey take off from her nest in a tall pine tree and soar out over the bay, light and free. Watching the bird made me think of Theo. I was planning to meet him later at the boulder by Pete’s Pond. He’d want to know about our morning at the lake, and I’d ask how his father’s date with Mrs. Russo went. Then we would start birding.

I looked forward to getting home.