I wouldn’t have minded. I wish he’d known that.
Restless, weepy, lost, I wander out to the patio. The air is still and warm, and smoke makes the sunset deep pink and orange. A lone surfer is silhouetted against the shimmery light, and I shoot a picture with my phone, then another, and another. It’s quiet. Some bird I can’t see is singing, a pretty sound like a recorder.
Without thinking, I strip off my clothes and dive into the pool, gasping a little at the cool water on my body, then surfacing to breathe. I kick into laps, letting the day and the revelations slide away. It’s only me, in the water, in this house I love so much, swimming in the dusk.
A year ago, I was sweltering through a Boston summer, unsure of my prospects, breaking up with a guy I should never have allowed into my life. On a whim, I’d written to Meadow to ask if I could interview her. Instead, I reached Augustus, and he invited me to come to California.
When I’ve worked out the tense exhaustion in my muscles, I turn over and look up at the sky, watching stars emerge.
I will never see Augustus again. The knowledge is a purple ball of sadness in my gut.
But I also know I wouldn’t trade the time with him, not for anything. For all his philandering, he was sincere. He sincerely adored me and I felt that. He held me in high regard. He loved my hair and my body, but he also loved my wit and our long conversations over longer meals. I made him feel young and vigorous, and he made me feel valued beyond measure.
Most of all, he gave me tenderness, which I’d never in all my life known from anyone. The tenderness of brushing my hair and rubbing my feet and listening, very intently, when I talked about . . . anything. Everything.
He loved me and I am better for knowing him.
For loving him.
Chapter Forty-Three
Maya
My father left me a letter, which Meadow brings to me two days after they released his body. She apologizes for holding on to it, but I get that she was protecting me.
When she brings it, I’m sitting in the living room to avoid the bright, hot sun of midday, and Cosmo is asleep, his soft paws folded on the arch of my right foot, and even when I wiggle my toes, he doesn’t move. We’ve been working on swimming lessons every morning, and he adores it, but it also wears him out. A tired puppy, Meadow always says, is a good puppy.
“Knock knock,” she calls from the patio doors. “Is this a good time?”
“Sure.” Our relationship has been strained since her meltdown at Rory’s house, but I’m trying to give her space to be herself. Deborah coached me on letting other people be who they are, and it’s hard but I can have boundaries but also give her room to figure things out.
This morning, she’s dressed in work clothes—jeans and a V-neck T-shirt and bright yellow tennis shoes—and her hair is tightly braided away from her face. The circles under her eyes are still deep, but I know this time it’s more about the fire, which swept west and all too close to Ojai last night. “The farm okay?” I ask.
She drops into a chair. “The wind shifted,” she says with a sigh, and rubs her face. “It never came over the ridge, and with a little luck, it’s finally under control.”
“Good.”
“I brought you something. I picked it up after your dad died, but I kept forgetting to give it to you.”
“Forgetting?” I echo.
She hands me a thick envelope. “I wanted to make sure you were okay before I gave it to you.” I start to speak and she holds up a palm. “Let me finish.”
I look at my dad’s handwriting, elegant, almost calligraphic, and wait.
“I went to an Al-Anon meeting this morning,” she says, and claps her hands together. “I . . . guess I have a lot of things to work out myself, and I don’t want to make things worse for you.”
Something like relief spreads through my lungs, soft and light. “What did you think?”
“I liked it, oddly enough. I thought it would be a bunch of sad people in a sad little room telling sad little stories, but it wasn’t.” She looks at me with her cornflower eyes, the light hitting them just right so that she looks like a seer. “It was a relief, honestly. I could . . . I don’t know. Let down my guard.”
I blink tears away. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
“I know I’m still going to screw up and say the wrong thing and make you mad, but I’m trying, okay? I’m going to do what I need to do to heal, too.”
“Thank you, Meadow.”
“Anyway. Your dad left you the letter and I just wanted to make sure you had it. Do you want me to stay while you read it?”