Page 132 of Promise Me Sunshine

“I told you I was okay!”

“Yeah…but youactuallylook okay.”

I laugh and shake my head at this conversation. “I really am. Hey.”

“Yeah?”

He’s leaning elbows on the railing the same way that I am, so when the ferry kicks forward, away from the dock, I use the momentum to lift one of his arms and slide into his negative space. We’re nested together, both looking out toward the water now. “You learned an entire choreo for Ainsley.”

He hums a low, vaguely proud, vaguely humiliated noise. “Yeah.”

“And Reese saw it.”

“Yeah.”

“Miles, this is huge!”

“Yeah.”

I tip my head to the side to see him. “Hey. Be excited.”

“Okay.”

I shake my head at him and we both laugh. His hands slide over each other on the railing, enclosing me, and I’m in the safest place on earth. His stubbly chin grazes my cheek. “Iamexcited,” he says low as we watch Ellis Island slide past. He gives me a squeeze. “When we got back to the apartment Reese asked me to take the trash out.”

My eyebrows fly upward. “She asked you for help?”

“Yup.” He gives one happy nod.

“Wow.”

“Wow,” he agrees.

A tanker, dinosaurian and dimly lit, cuts a path toward the ocean and we watch it in silence.

“Hey, Lenny?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you on the Staten Island Ferry if you’re okay?”

I consider this. How much of my personality is grief and how much is me?

I am who I am because of Lou, but am I also who I am because Lou died?

Is it possible that I’m herebothbecause I’m grievingandexperiencing a near-perfect happiness?

“You know, I never mentioned this, but when it was time to move Lou to hospice, we picked a facility out on Staten Island.”

“Oh,” he says, surprised.

“I stayed there with her as much as I could, but sometimes I’d go home and shower and sleep and what not. So…now whenever I’m on the ferry, I guess part of me feels like I’m headed toward her.”

His arms tighten even more. “I didn’t know that.”

“Hey…you wanna see something cool?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

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