The weight of her own words hits her. She’s not going to Charter Village. She can’t.
After a deep breath, she goes on. “We must say goodbye, friend. But I’m glad Terry saved you, because you saved me.”
Slowly, she tips the bucket. It’s about three feet down to the water. For a moment that seems extended in time, before gravity catches up, Marcellus’s arm remains wrapped around her hand as his strange otherworldly body hangs in midair, his eye fixed to hers. Just as she’s about to be pulled down with him, he releases, and lands with a heavy splash in the night-black water.
Every Last Thing
My sweet boy,” Tova says, gazing out from her usual bench on the pier next to the aquarium. Under the silver moon, the water sparkles back.
The events of the last two hours hardly seem real, to say nothing of the events of the last two months. Marcellus is gone. Cameron, her grandson, is gone. As of tomorrow, her house will be good as gone. But she won’t be moving up to Charter Village.
Tova will not be gone.
What will she do? She hasn’t a clue, so she sits on her bench, staring at the water for some length of time that’s amorphous, immune to ordinary laws of the world, like a huge octopus reshaping its body to slip through a tiny crack. At some point, she checks her watch. It must be very late by now. Quarter to midnight.
It’s almost a new day. Her first day as a grandmother.
Erik didn’t know he’d fathered a child. How could he end his own life with a child on the way? He couldn’t have. And he didn’t. She clings to this theory, her thin fingers gripping tight on the bench. It had to have been an accident. Drunk kids. Impaired judgment.
He would’ve been a wonderful father. Yes, he was only eighteen, but look at Mary Ann’s granddaughter, Tatum. She did just fine. Erik would’ve loved Cameron to pieces. Everything—every last thing—could have been so different.
“Excuse me? Hello?” A woman’s voice rings out across the pier, startling Tova from her reverie. Who else could be out here at this hour?
Someone wearing short athletic shorts and a bright pink sweatshirt is running up the pier at an urgent clip. Tova realizes it’s the young woman who owns the paddle shop just down the boardwalk, next to the realtor’s office.
“Hello.” Tova wipes her eyes and adjusts her glasses, then rises from the bench. “Are you all right, dear? It’s quite late to be out for a jog.”
The young woman slows to a trot as she nears the bench, out of breath. “You’re Tova.”
“I am.”
“I’m Avery,” she says, panting. “And I wasn’t out for a jog. I was finishing up paperwork at my shop down the road and I saw lights on, figured someone was at the aquarium.” There’s a quiet desperation in her eyes that Tova recognizes all too well. The look of someone trying to hold it together.
She follows Avery’s gaze back to the aquarium building, where the lights are indeed still on. The yellow mop bucket is back in the closet. Tova had planned to turn everything off and lock up on her way out, whenever that may end up being.
Avery swallows. “Anyway, I was thinking it might be . . .”
“Cameron?”
“Yes.” A look of relief washes over her face. “Is he here?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Do you know where he is? I’ve been calling him all afternoon, but he’s not answering his phone.”
Tova shakes her head. “He left. Went back to California.”
“What?” Avery’s mouth drops open. “Why?”
“That’s a rather complicated question.” Tova’s tone is measured. She sinks back into her spot on the bench, and the girl sits at the other end, tucking her bare legs underneath her. Tova goes on, “I suppose, in his mind, too many misunderstandings.”
Avery’s eyebrows knit together. “Misunderstandings?”
“His words exactly.” She raises a brow at the young woman. “I’m quite certain he thinks you are . . . oh, how did he put it . . . ghosting him?”
“What?” Avery leaps up. “He stood me up! And then sent me some message saying he needed to talk. When has that ever meant anything good?” She leans on the railing. “I’m the one who should be pissed. I only came over here because I was worried about him.”
Tova recalls Cameron’s diatribe in the hallway at the aquarium, and is poised to tell Avery about it, but hesitates. She ought not to meddle in his business. But, well . . . he’s family, and isn’t this what families do? The thought almost makes her laugh. Perhaps against her better judgment, she finally says, “I believe he did try to let you know he couldn’t make it.”