Page 11 of Ship Happens

“Okay, how about you? How’s Stanford treating you?”

“Absolute hell!” Kevin replies. “Every day is a battle not to throw myself off the roof of the library.”

“I’m just going to assume you’re joking,” Owen tells him, playing along.

“If you’re okay with having that on your conscience, be my guest!” Kevin cackles as he slides open the utensil drawer, haphazardly grabbing spoons, forks, and chopsticks.

And only when it’s too late does Owen realize that Kaitlyn has been hovering around the rice cooker, making herself look busy. “Isn’t that the third time you’ve refilled the sugar jar?” she asks, eying the container that Abigail made in one of her ceramics classes.

Owen had hoped he’d been a bit more subtle. But he’d run out of things to keep himself busy with once the cobbler was in the oven. So he’d settled for pouring sugar back and forth.

“No,” he tells her.

“Uh-huh,” Kaitlyn sings, not believing Owen for a second. “So are you going to eat dinner with your friends? Or should I make a plate and bring it in here for you?”

“I was going to join everyone.”

“Then let’s go,” Kaitlyn says with plenty of sass, nodding for Owen to walk out ahead of her so she knows he won’t just slip away.

“Okay, then!” Owen matches her tone.

“Hey, Owen!” Kevin calls from the living room. “Can you get me three chopsticks?”

“Three sets of chopsticks?” Owen specifies.

“Nah, just three chopsticks. And another spoon!”

Wordlessly, Owen grabs the utensils, closing the drawer with his hip as Kaitlyn continues to stare at him. “Just let me do things in my own time, okay?”

“You can’t avoid him forever.” Kaitlyn grabs a few bowls of rice, balancing three on one arm, her days as a waitress peeking through. “Now, help me carry these?”

Dinner is fine. Everyone’s either got their mouths full of food, or they’re playing catch-up, given that it’s been a few weeks since most of them were last together. Kaitlyn retells the story of the lab intern who dropped not one, not two, but three of her samples in the span of a single afternoon. Abigail vents about her students and being buried in grant paperwork with this dead look in her eyes as she considers her life choices.

Kevin’s buried under his own workload, being the last of their friend group who’s still in school, thanks to the year he took off before he started to pursue his doctorate. He entertains everyone with a story of helping to reset a classmate’s arm at a party he went to last weekend.

Ravi’s been taking care of Pari, working from home and spending most of his days chasing around a baby who isn’t a fan of wearing pants, and Hailey’s still adjusting to being back at work, already missing being at home with her husband and daughter. And of course they both have hundreds of photos of Pari to show the group.

“She’s just so beautiful . . .” Ravi says, near tears as he shows Owen photos of his daughter in his lap. “And every time I get the guitar out and play for her, she strums it with me. I think she’s got a real talent.”

“She’s eight months old, Ravi,” Owen reminds him, unable to keep the smile off his face. He still remembers going to see Hailey and Ravi in the hospital the day Pari was born, how tiny she’d been, head already full of thick black hair like her father, the new parents staring at their daughter with a sort of love they were getting to feel for the first time.

During a moment when none of the focus is on him, Owen grabs a few of the now-empty containers from the table, making his escape to the kitchen without anyone noticing as Jacob begins to talk.

“It’s been amazing,” he says. “We’re actually in the middle of packing the lab up, moving things to Belgium. And once I’m there, I’m going to be spending a lot of time on the boat.”

“Like a middle-of-the-ocean kind of boat?” Ravi asks, clearly terrified at the idea.

“It’s not that bad.” Jacob chuckles. “Besides, we want to make sure our squid make it to where they need to.”

“Well, I’m sure you don’t mind all the moving,” Hailey offers, finishing her glass of cider. “You were never all that good at sitting still.”

“It’s been fun,” Jacob says. Owen’s not sure that anyone else picks up on the hesitation in his words, the quiet weariness that Owen recognizes from when Jacob used to work late nights. Maybe he’s the only one who ever heard it. “Belgium is gorgeous, remind me to show you some pics later.”

Owen’s dinner threatens to come back up as he tries to shut out what Jacob’s saying, scraping food down the garbage disposal before he slips into his bright red gloves. Might as well do the dishes now.

“Owen—” Ravi speaks through the serving hatch. “A friend of mine found a listing that’s got some promise, don’t let me leave tonight without showing you.”

“Oh . . .” Owen feels like a deer caught in the headlights, especially when he realizes that Jacob is also looking at him, his gaze curious. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”