Page 29 of Winter Break

But no, it wasn’t him either. It was my parents.

We hardly ever talked, but after I’d settled in above the store and once the holidays were behind me that first year, I’d called and let them know I was okay. I hadn’t told them why I’d left, other than to say I’d needed a change and was staying with a friend. We spoke a few times a year after that, without ever breaking the surface. I called them our proof-of-life calls to Anita, and she said they were better than nothing.

“At least they care that you’re still alive.”

“That’s only because they don’t know the first thing about me.”

“You don’t owe them anything, Turner. You know that, right?” she’d reminded me more than once over the years.

I made my way to the office, sat at my desk, and stared at Anita’s empty chair. When my parents asked how I was, part of me wanted to tell them I was having a wonderful holiday with my new boyfriend. But Anita was right: I didn’t owe my parents anything, not even my anger. Our conversation ended as it always did, with me evading the question as to what church I was attending, and with them promising to pray for me.

I pictured their monotone Christmas tree, imagining one festive rainbow-colored ornament smack dab in the middle of it and smiling at the silly thought as I pulled the curtain and entered the shop. Our tree’s multicolored lights twinkled, reflecting off the window that looked out on the boardwalk, the waning gibbous moon shining bright over the ocean. Atop the tree perched a Santa hat that I had placed just so on the tallest branch after one of our employees and I had decorated the tree before Thanksgiving.

“Merry Christmas,” I said to no one in particular as I leaned down and unplugged the lights.

I saw him as I was rising, a lone figure, leaning on the railing, looking out at the same shockingly bright moon.

The bell jingled as it always did after I unlocked the door and opened it, but he didn’t turn around. I hesitated then, unsure why I’d come out, less sure as to why he hadn’t turned around. I looked up and down the boardwalk; there was one family turning off the beach and a couple further down, walking arm in arm away from us. Other than that, we were alone.

I stood next to him, mimicking his stance, hands folded and draped over the railing, eyes to the horizon. The familiar sound of the ocean calmed me as it always did.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this view.” His comment was shockingly close to my own thoughts.

“You should see it from my room,” I said without thinking, and his head whipped in my direction. I remained facing the sea, a smile crinkling the skin around my eyes.

“Not … No, that’s not what I meant.” I laughed and could sense when Dalton went back to staring straight ahead. He chuckled too, sounding embarrassed although I’d been the one to make the inappropriate comment.

“Just … I couldn’t believe it when Anita offered me what she described as a little apartment over the shops. She took me upstairs and showed me the space.” I turned and pointed, but he didn’t move a muscle. “Those two windows? One is the living room, and the other is the bedroom.”

“I’ve been up there,” Dalton confessed to the horizon. “In fact, she used to keep the holiday decorations in one of those rooms.”

“Still does.” I laughed. “It was a shit show up there when I arrived. We still use some of the living room for storage. I don’t mind. There’s a couch and a chair where I can read and look out at this view, so I’m happy.”

“I’m glad,” he said, and it hung between us. I’d shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans, so for lack of anything else to do, I moved until I was copying him again, looking out over the inky water.

I don’t know how long we quietly stood there. There were so many things I thought I should say. We’d managed to barely see each other since he’d run out the year before, and we’d never been alone. That summer, I’d look out the store windows, hoping for a glimpse of him, embarrassed about remembering him in that lifeguard uniform, or more to the point, my reaction to him in that tight swimsuit.

But I’d barely seen him that summer, and I’d never run into him when I was with Brett or at the Three B’s. I assumed he and Austin had better things to do than hang around older brothers and parents during their last summer together before college. That it also seemed to be their first summer as boyfriends was something I tried not to think about too much.

I sighed, standing there not thinking about it, and Dalton spoke, finally turning and nodding his head toward the upper floor of the building.

“Did you leave Amir sleeping, then?”

“Huh?” I asked stupidly. There are many very good reasons not to lie. For someone like me, the inability to keep track of the simplest of them is a very, very good one.

“Anita said you were busy with Amir tonight, and that’s why you weren’t at the house. I guess … I thought …”

“Amir’s not here,” I said quickly.

“Oh.”

“He left to spend time with his parents.”

“Ah.”

We were quiet again until I felt compelled to confess.

“We broke up.”