“Sure, okay, but Hayes is also sweet, and loving, and okay-looking, which balances out the fact that he’s British.” I hear a shout in the background and she stifles a laugh. “What balances out Six’s many, many negative qualities?”
I shrug, though she can’t see me. It’s as if I’m trying to convince myself the answer doesn’t especially matter. “He’s laid back.”
“He isn’t laid back,” she says softly. “He’s careless. There’s a difference.”
“Not everyone is going to be Hayes,” I reply. “But if he’s not here by the time we leave for Lanai, I’ll just go back to California.”
“Or you could spend more time with hot Josh who doesn’t get along with his girlfriend and just saved your life in a dramatic sea rescue.”
“Even if Sloane’s generally an asshole, I would never move in on someone else’s boyfriend, nor would you,” I reply. My hair has soaked the pillow. I reach over and grab one from the other side of the bed. “And besides, this is Josh, who also accused me of potentially stealing their silver, Tali.”
She laughs. “You are never going to let that go, are you? Cut him some slack. Maybe Six’s previous girlfriend stole the silver. Maybe there’s someone online claiming you’re a klepto.”
Except, even if there’s some outlandish reason he was such a dick last summer, he’ll still be Six’s brother who lives in Somalia. Clinging to my dislike, at this point, seems…prudent.
That night, at Six’s suggestion, we have dinner “together” though we aren’t even on the same continent.
We convene at nine PM my time, four PM his, me in my room while he sits at the hotel bar with his phone propped up on the center of the table.
I’m yawning even as the conversation starts. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night and I can’t fall back asleep after.”
He grins, raising his empty glass to someone I can’t see. “As long as you don’t wake me up once I get there. You know how pissed I get when my beauty sleep is interrupted, and apparently Sloane is cranky enough for all of us.”
“They don’t seem all that thrilled to see each other again,” I venture.
He shoves a piece of salmon in his mouth. “Probably because long-distance relationships never work,” he says.
That statement sits poorly, given that it’s in the nature of our jobs to be apart more often than not. “You seem to be forgetting,” I reply with a disgruntled laugh, “that you invited me on this trip because you wanted long-distance with me.”
“It’s totally different,” he argues. “Under normal circumstances, Josh only gets to leave once a year. How the hell do you even make once a year work? He was only home last summer because they were all forced to evacuate.”
I set my drink down. “Evacuate?”
“Some explosion at the camp,” he says, already bored by the topic. “A lot of the staff didn’t return but Saint Joshua, of course, had to go back.”
There’s a weird twist in my stomach. I knew Josh’s work wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t the height of luxury, but I didn’t think it was a place where things explode. “So…it’s dangerous there? He could get hurt?”
He groans loudly, taking a drink from the waitress and chugging half of it in one go. “Please, Drew, do not join the Joshua Bailey fan club with everyone else. He’s totally safe, and I really need just one person in my life who isn’t taking his side, okay?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” I reply. “You make it sound like there’s a battle going on and you’re not even here.”
“Exactly,” he replies. “I’m not there. And you know what my mother wants to talk about? Poor Joshua and Sloane, and how she wishes they were getting along, while my dad basically just reams me out and then tells me how glad he is Josh turned out well. I’m the one who just toured the world and is about to play at South by Southwest, but shit’s the same way it’s always been: nothing I could ever do will equal what Josh does.”
I know what it’s like to be the kid who isn’t as good, who can’t quite win a parent’s heart no matter what you do. Scrambling for my mother’s approval and failing is such a constant in my life I almost can’t imagine there’s another way.
I tap my finger to the screen as if I’m touching his face. “Your parents love you,” I tell him. “And I’m sure they’re proud of you. Maybe it’s just that your dad and Josh are both doctors, so they have something in common.”
For a moment, Six’s eyes are so bleak it breaks my heart. For all his bluster, I’ve seen this lost boy in him—the one who wishes his father cared—more than once. “He doesn’t even try with me, though.”
Until his father comes around, nothing is enough for him. And trying to prove yourself to someone who’s written you off is like trying to prove an algebraic equation using geometry—it’s never going to work no matter how much effort you expend.
I want to solve it, for both of us. But I also wonder if he doesn’t need someone a little more complete, a little less damaged, to fix it. I wonder if I don’t need that too.
13
JOSH
January 25th
“I like running here,” Drew says the next morning, once she’s done gasping for breath outside the hotel entrance. The gasping no longer amuses me, now that I know about the asthma. Slowly, she stands up and we walk, side by side, toward the pool. “I’m gonna miss it when we leave.”
I like it too. These early mornings with her, which I resented so much at first, are now my favorite part of the trip. And honestly, after experiencing dinner without her last night, I’m wondering just how unbearable this entire vacation would be if she hadn’t come.
We all felt the difference. Without her, my mother’s attempts to remain buoyant never quite succeeded. The strain between Sloane and me was palpable, as was the strain between my dad and me, and I’m not sure what’s worse—my mother’s endless attempts to pretend things are fine, or my father’s failure to pretend anything at all.
“You can still run on the other islands,” I reply as we take our seats by the pool. “I don’t think there are laws against it.”
She kicks my leg. “Yes, I’m aware that no one has outlawed running on the other islands. I just meant I like the scenery here. I like seeing the moon over the water, the palm trees, the surfers heading out to certain death.”
I laugh and rise from the chair to find a waitress for the towels and cappuccino Drew will need any moment now. I wish to God she’d stop taking off her bra when I walk away, however, because even with it on, I can see way more of her anatomy than is good for me—the soft curve of her breasts, tight nipples reacting to the cold. I picture leaning over, tugging on one through the fabric, before I can stop myself.
This has to stop. I honestly don’t know who the fuck I am around her at times. I think about amputations all the way to the towel bin, trying to rein myself in.