Page 91 of The Last Time

“Ah,” she says with what sounds like understanding. “How did it go?”

“I mean, the house is definitely in good enough shape to sell. She did tell me I could get a lot more money for it if I upgrade the kitchen and bathrooms.”

“Well, that’s good. I’m proud of you for getting it in good enough shape for resale this summer. Do you want to stay and finish the rest before you sell?”

“I don’t know, Mom. When I thought about getting rid of this place in the beginning, it felt good. To be honest, I couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. Now, when I think about selling,” I trail off, struggling to find the words. “I just don’t know if I want to sell it anymore.”

“What do you think changed?”

I look around, taking in the feel of warmth in my body that it creates.

“It just feels like home. You know? It always did for me. That’s why it was so hard for me to lose this place. That’s why I was filled with so much anger when it was ripped away from me. Now that I’m here, now that I’ve healed from it all, it just reminds me of how happy I’ve always been when I was here.”

“You did always shine your brightest those summers we were there,” she says with reverence.

“You noticed that?”

“I did. Your laugh was always a little louder, your smile a little bigger. Your energy was different there.”

“So, you think I should stay?”

“I can absolutely understand if that’s what you decide. I’ll support any of your decisions. But you need to make this decision on your own.”

I let out an audible breath. “I know I do.” I glance out the window from the kitchen to the dock. My favorite spot in the entire world. If there’s any place I can make this decision, it’s there. “It helps just knowing that you’d support my decision. Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course. Let me know when you decide. You’ll know the right decision. I’m sure you already do.”

We chat for a bit more about how things are going with family back home and what she’s been up to this summer. When I hang up with her, I make myself a cup of coffee. Am I ready to leave behind an entire life I’d built back in Cincinnati? It’s not at all what I had planned when I decided to spend my summer here.

I walk outside and down the rocky steps built into the grass until I reach the dock. As I walk down to the end, my body settles. All my nerves and uncertainty begin to fade away.

The warmth of the coffee soothes me as I sit down and take in the view.

I try to let myself think back to all the feelings I initially had on the way here. The anger in my body was so fierce, so consuming. The way the neglect of the house signified the neglect I felt all those years from my father.

Maybe repairing the house was also my way of repairing our relationship.

With each paint chip removed, I made room for a new coat—a new feeling to come through.

But was this summer about healing and not staying?

That’s the question.

I try to imagine what it would feel like to officially hand over the keys to this place, to know I would never be able to come back.

One thing is for sure: whatever my decision is, this summer was meant to be.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Asher

Therehasn’tbeenanovercast day in weeks. And yet, here I stand outside of my car, looking at the grey skies. It matches my mood as I look out at the vast green land in front of me.

I haven’t been here since the day my wife was buried.

Does that make me a bad man?

But how could I when the truth of her unfaithfulness was revealed to me onlyafterher death?

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