Page 85 of Spindrift

“Fuckable?”

“Besidesthat. What’s the word?”

“Ihave no idea.”

“Real.”

Emiliastared at her sister and tried to make sense of the lines creasing herforehead. “Real how?”

“Realin a way I’m not sure you’re ready for.”

“Doesn’tmatter.” She pasted a smile across her lips. “We’re just friends.”

AnnaMaria searched her face, then shrugged. “I’m glad you found good people. Comeon. Let’s put you to bed.”

Real,she thought as she lay in thedarkness of her father’s house. Real was a good word for Morgan. Real. Solid.Grounded. Everything that was missing from her own existence. Was that why shewas so drawn to her? Hannah had been real in a different way—never stopping,always moving, creating the universe she wanted around her. Emilia had beensucked in like a satellite. What, she wondered now, would life be like inMorgan’s orbit? It occurred to her suddenly that she knew very little aboutMorgan’s past. Far less, in fact, than Morgan knew about her own. The disparitywas disquieting.

Butdo I want to know?She’d had to tell Morgan about her recent past because it informed so much ofher present—including the unspoken matter of her imminent departure. Falling forMorgan would complicate that and make it even harder to decide what to do abouther father’s house. And falling was a very real danger.

AnnaMaria was right. She wasn’t ready for someone like Morgan, nor was she capableof pushing her away.

“I’mso fucked,” she said into her pillow.

AnnaMaria stayed another day, helping Emilia minimize the rest of her father’spossessions. For now, she’d settled for stripping the furnishings down to what she’dneed if she decided to rent the house out for a few years.

“Iknow Mom’s pushing you to sell, but I say keep it and run an Airbnb. Or paysomeone else to manage it. You don’t need to make any big decisions right now,and probably shouldn’t, anyway.”

Whatshe really needed to do was deal with the yard. She’d mown it, but the flowerbeds looked, as Anna Maria put it while getting into her car to leave, “likemoldy dog shit,” and the vegetable garden had been overrun with weeds andweedier tomato plants and squash vines left over from last year’s fallenfruits. She figured it was probably too late to do much with it besides make thebest of the volunteer crops, but she decided to take Lillian up on her offer ofspare seedlings. Gardening would also dispel some of the tension that shiveredbeneath her skin in all the places Morgan had touched her. A short textexchange confirmed the availability of all things green and growing, and Lillianinvited her to stop over that evening. She stared at the rioting mess of agarden at her feet, then texted Morgan.

ER:I’ll be at your place to get plants from Lillian later. Will I see you?

Thereply was instant.

MD:Wouldn’t miss it.

Shedug a shovel, rake, and garden hoe out of the disorganized shed—a project foranother day—and proceeded to do her best to remove the worst of the weeds. Hermuscles burned with the unfamiliar abuse. Nell lay in the shade and chewed on astick. She looked up each time Emilia swore at a particularly entrenched weed treebut made no move to help.

Byfive o’clock she was sweaty, sunburned, and exhausted.

“Iam not a farmer,” she told her dog as she slumped on the porch. She’d tendedhouseplants in the apartment she no longer shared with Hannah. Most hadprobably perished by now. She doubted Skylar would care for them, and Hannahhad no time for things that didn’t serve a purpose. Air purification and décordidn’t count.

Still,it would be nice to have fresh vegetables and herbs, assuming the effortinvolved to get them didn’t kill her. She glanced at the flower beds, wheremore weeds staked territorial claims over the faded mulch.One day at atime.Starting with the beds visible from the driveway probably would havebeen smarter than focusing on the vegetable garden, but she’d always hated the waymulch managed to wedge itself underneath her fingernails even with gloves.

Thehouse felt empty without Anna Maria. Peaceful, but bereft, as if anotherdeparted human presence amplified her father’s absence. Floorboards creakedunder her feet more loudly than usual when she got out of the shower, and shewiped the steam from the mirror to remind herself that she wasn’t a ghost.

“Whatare you doing here?” she asked her towel-clad self.

Amessage blinked at her from her phone.

MD:Running late today. Stay for dinner?

Thecrush of doubts dissipated, replaced by what was, without a doubt, pure andunadulterated lust.

ER:I’d love that.

MD:Bring Nell.

Nellcurrently sprawled across the bed with all four legs in the air. She snapped aphoto and sent it to Morgan.

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