Page 79 of Summer After Summer

Fred sits next to me, his own plate piled high. “You want a bib?”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m serious. I have some in my backpack.”

“I’m good.” I kiss him. “Thank you for this.”

“My pleasure.”

I dig in and it’s honestly one of the best things I’ve ever tasted in my life. The simplicity of it—fresh seawater, the only seasoning—is what I love, I think, but it’s also the company, the night, the light from the fire, the darkening sky above.

We eat mostly in silence, all of us greedy with our food. There are other parties down the beach, and maybe when we’re done, we’ll join one of them and watch the fireworks pierce the sky, but for now I’m content with my small crew, Fred next to me, and Ash across the fire, eating more than usual and sharing small jokes with Dave.

“You all done with that?” Fred asks when my plate is mostly husks of seafood and corn.

“I don’t think I could put another thing inside me,” I say, and he raises his eyebrow suggestively. “Yikes, that came out wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He takes my plate and puts it in a black garbage bag. He puts his own mess inside too, then rises and passes it to Dave. Then he reaches into the cooler and pulls out a bottle of champagne and four plastic flutes. “Everybody want?”

We all say yes, and he pops the cork and fills the glasses, then passes them out. I take mine and he sits next to me. He holds his glass toward mine. “Happy birthday, Olivia.”

“Everything was wonderful.” I click my glass to his, but they’re plastic, so there’s no sound, only a soft thud, and then I take a sip. It’s good champagne, not the cheap brand that gets passed around my college dorm sometimes after we win a big match.

Fred sips at his, then makes a face. “Still don’t like this stuff.”

“Don’t drink it then.”

He smiles at me, then takes another sip.

“This all must have cost you a fortune,” I say. “I want to contribute.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’d feel better if I did.”

“Ash and Dave split it with me, and that’s enough. I want to do this for you.”

“Thank you.”

“I got you a present too.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Stop. It’s your birthday.”

“Okay,” I say as I feel the echo of conversations past. I reach for my wrist, to the charm bracelet he gave me five years ago that I put back on after our first night together. I’d almost thrown it out after the breakup, the idea of collecting memories without Fred more than I could take. Instead, I’d tucked it into the back of my jewelry box and tried to forget it was there.

Fred catches my hand and starts to play with the tennis racquet, a mini version of the one I’ll need to pick up again soon.

“When I was in the Navy, I went to a lot of places.”

“That sounds great.”

“It was, mostly. I don’t recommend sleeping in a ship’s hull with five hundred guys, but when we’d go into port, I always saw everything that I could. When I could, I collected memories, mementos.”

I look up at him. “You have a charm bracelet?”

“No, Olivia. For you.”

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