Page 77 of Seven Summers Ago
“What happened to those kids?” I ask before thinking, studying the younger versions of us.
“They grew up.”
I glance at her and see my life flash by. “Did we? Because how come we’re still having the same arguments?”
“What arguments would those be?”
Her expression is tired. She’s probably having another flare day and I’m making it worse by pressing these conversations. But if not now, when?
“If two people love each other, is that enough?” I ask, holding eye contact even as emotions and questions glaze over hers. “What happened to those promises we made each other?”
“Again, we were kids.” She finally tears her eyes away from mine and shuffles the photos into a stack. “What did we know about love?”
“A lot,” I mumble, and her fingers still for a moment.
“What did we know about the real world? About life?”
She has a point there. Maybe we’d been naïve to promise we’d stay together forever. We were eighteen. But we did stay together for a few years. Made it through some difficult times together. Got married at twenty. Even when she left three years later, I never doubted that she was the one.
“That’s fair.” I toss the photo back onto the table while she continues stacking them. “That was a fun trip though.”
She glances at me and her lips pull up, her green eyes sparkling. “It was. Especially when Dottie searched for that bottle of wine then asked the organizers to give her another one, all the while knowing full well we’d been the ones who drank it.”
I smirk. “Yeah, she was a cool lady.”
“She was.” She taps a finger against her chin. “Speaking of…” Her voice trails and when I glance up to meet her gaze again, she gestures her chin in the direction of what looks to be an urn on the edge of the kitchen counter.
I swing my attention back to Rosie. “Is that…?”
“It is.” She presses her lips together.
“When did you get those?”
“At the reading of the will when I was here last. I knew most of Dottie’s wishes after she died, so I had to do a lot of the decision-making from Seattle before I came. I knew she wanted to be cremated but I didn’t know until then that she wanted me to spread her ashes in the ocean.”
There’s a silence between us. Charlie’s soft voice is muffled from upstairs while she talks to her stuffed animals.
“You haven’t done it yet?”
She shakes her head and puts a stack of albums into a box.
“Did you want some company? While you do it, I mean?”
She gives me a smile despite her eyes glistening. “No, I should do this on my own. I’m gonna spread them Saturday morning.”
“Do you want me to stay with Charlie? I was going to go fishing with my dad, but I can reschedule.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ve already asked Stella.”
“It’s no problem, I can go fishing with my dad anytime.”
“Beck, it’s okay. Besides, Stella and Max want to see Charlie too.”
I glance down at my fidgeting hands in my lap, my breathing quickening. The desperation to help her but the inability to do so is paralyzing me.
“Hey,” she hedges, forcing me to focus on her calming eyes. “You can’t fix everything.” Her smile is forced, but more importantly it’s pained.
All of this is painful.
