Page 73 of Sea La Vie
“She didn’t mind it,” he corrects. “But she didn’t love it. And I will never forgive myself for not recognizing that until it was too late. She had so much potential to do whatever she wanted, and she wasted it all on me and my dreams of running this fishing business.”
I frown, my eyebrows a mirror of dad’s that are drawn together in a deep V.
“I don’t want you to do what she did, Lainey,” he says softly. “You’ve spent too much time helping everyone but yourself. I think it’s time you do whatyouwant to do.”
“I don’t mind helping you,” I say. “Or Huck, or anyone else, really.”
“You don’t mind it, but you don’t love it,” Dad says.
“What would I do?” I ask. “This town is so tiny, there’s really no place I can imagine working that I haven’t already.”
Dad’s eyes sparkle, and another smile slips out from behind his beard. “You’ll figure it out, just like you’ll figure out how to say ‘no’. Try it with me…”
“Nnnoo…thank you,” I spit out.
“Close enough,” Dad laughs with a shrug.
“I can’t believe you’re finally retiring,” I murmur.
“I can’t believe you’re twenty-eight years old. You were just three, bouncing on my knee, begging for me to take you fishing.” I smile, broken flashbacks passing through my mind like a slideshow.
“I’m ready to retire. Four generations of this fishing business was more than enough. I think we’ve made my great-grandparents very proud.” He squeezes my shoulder, then lets his hand drop to his knee with a loud smack. “I better get to the living room. The game isn’t going to watch itself after all.”
I smile and shake my head, never knowing my father to be a football fan in all the time I’ve been alive. As if he can read my mind, he says, “I’ve got all the time in the world now to try all these hobbies on for size, you know? See what fits me best. Tomorrow, I’m quilting with Lucille.”
My eyes bug out of my head, trying to picture my large, stocky, mostly grumpy father with a teeny tiny needle poised between his rough thumb and forefinger. He stands and shuffles to the living room, flicking the light out on the way. After he passes through the doorway, he turns over his shoulder. “Did you see the paper today?”
“No,” I say. “Why?” I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve read the paper since I was thirteen and desperate for a dog, and even then it was only the Morehead City Humane Society’s ad, not the entire paper. I’ll never forget tearing out the ad and drawing hearts and circles all over Midge. I slid it into Dad’s line of vision every chance I got, under his pillow, in the fridge, next to the coffee pot. In fact, the last time I read the paper, I found the fishing competition. So no, I haven’t picked one up lately.
“Paul, you know, fromA-Fish-Ionado, died a few nights ago. His obituary said he had suffered quietly from lung cancer for a while.”
I gasp. “You’re kidding me.”
“Wish I was,” he replies. “I developed a bit of a soft spot for him after he saved you. I called him up last week and thanked him, and we chatted for a while. Turns out he wasn’t so bad.”
Realization settles over me like an old quilt spread onto the grass on a warm summer day. Paul donated that money to us. Paul, our arch nemesis for as long as I can remember, who saved my life no less, is the reason Dad can finally retire and I don’t have to worry about his safety on the water anymore. I open my mouth to let dad know this revelation when I think better of it and snap it shut. I flash back to that morning on the boat, where he said my parents were proud of me, and it’s the only memory I have of his soft side peeking through. If he donated anonymously, he obviously didn’t want us to know. This can be our little secret.
“That’s terrible,” I murmur instead. Dad nods in agreement, then continues shuffling toward the television. I poke my head in a minute after he’s settled. “You know, you might have to upgrade your TV, if this football hobby becomes serious.” The tiny box’s TV screen crackles in the corner and dad waves his hand. “There won’t be enough room for one when my new sewing machine comes in.”
I giggle, unsure if he’s joking or not. This side of my dad is nice. He’s been the best dad—performing the role of two parents for years—but he’s always had a dullness to his eyes, a lack of any emotion other than the bare minimum needed to raise three kids. Even all those times cooking together and dancing around the kitchen when I was a kid, his shoulders were a little high, his smiles tight. Seeing this carefree side of him makes my heart swell.
“The Coast Guard found Sea La Vie, too,” Dad says gently. “They’re bringing her back sometime tomorrow.”
Relief floods my veins, the thought of that little fishing boat with so many memories stored in her floating around the Atlantic was too much to bear.
I step into the late morning sun, letting it warm my bones from the frigid air conditioning inside. “Lainey! Hey, Lainey!”I turn around and find Annabelle from the general store walking toward me, the heels of her clogs smacking against the pavement.
“Good morning,” I offer a wave and turn in the other direction.
“Lainey, I’m so glad I found you! Do you think you could help me this morning? Our freezer went out again.”
“You know, Annabelle, I actually can’t this morning.” I wait for the scolding, the harsh reprimanding of my terrible excuse as a contribution to this community. Instead, Annabelle smiles and says, “No worries, hun. Enjoy your weekend.” She strolls past me, whistling as she goes, and leaving me shocked that the world hasn’t ended. The liberation that fills my chest is consuming. I feel unstoppable. I feel like I could kick a door down.
“Lainey!”
“No, thank you,” I holler over my shoulder, not even bothering to see who it is.
“Ouch.” Tate’s voice grows louder, mingled with Cara’s laughter as they near. I turn around, my cheeks red.
