Page 32 of Sea La Vie
It’s just Lainey.
I walk down the stairs and find Lucille sitting behind the counter. “You’re making her drive?”
“Well, yeah. I don’t have my car back,” I explain.
“Kids these days. Chivalry is dead,” she mutters.
“What? It’s not even a date,” I protest.
“Better not be.” She takes a thumb and drags it along her neck, then closes her eyes and lolls her tongue out the side of her mouth, looking ridiculous as she threatens me.
I wait for her to open her eyes back up, but she doesn’t, and I’m momentarily concerned until I hear Lainey beep again. I back out of the house quickly, then jog the few yards to Lainey’s truck.
“Lucille gets weirder every day,” I say as I buckle myself in. I catch a whiff of the chicken Lainey has made for dinner, and my stomach rumbles. “Thanks again for cooking. I owe you one.”
Lainey chuckles, then pulls out onto the sandy road. Her window is down, and the warm summer wind blows her tangly waves around her face. If it wasn’t for the crease between her brows, she’d look carefree and relaxed with one hand on the wheel and the other out the window.
“You okay?” I ask.
She glances toward me. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Because your forehead says otherwise.”
“My forehead?” Lainey turns down an old country song, then scrunches her eyebrows together, making the crease deepen.
“When you’re stressed, the crease between your eyebrows shows up. It’s been that way since we were kids,” I explain.
Lainey rubs her forehead with her finger then sighs. “I’ve got to do something about the fishing business,” she says. “We’re running on fumes.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer.
Lainey shakes her head. “No, the weather has just been so weird this season. I haven’t been able to get out much at all, and on top of that, we lost a motor. But we’ll make it through. We always do.”
“How’s your dad doing?” I ask.
“He gets a little stronger everyday. The doctors at Duke want him to come do physical therapy once a week, and he’s made sure to tell me more than once how ridiculous that is. But honestly, I think he’s excited to get out of the house and spend some time with Henry. He offered to take him before I had a chance to.”
“You’ve got a lot going on already. I think it’s great that Henry offered to help,” I say.
“It should be me,” Lainey grumbles.
“Why are you afraid to ask for help or say no every now and then?” I ask.
Lainey huffs. “I’m not.”
“You are,” I challenge.
Lainey chews the inside of her cheeks and flips on her blinker. Theclick click clickfills the uncomfortable silence.
“The morning my mom died, she asked me to help her fold the laundry, and I said no,” she says quietly. “I know that’s stupid. It waslaundry.But I said no because I wanted to watch TV instead. And because of that, I missed out on twenty more minutes I could’ve had with my mom. All for a TV show I can’t even remember the name of. And who knows? It may have even delayed them from going out on the water for a few minutes. If she hadn't been standing on the back of the boat at that exact time, she may have never died.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek again and focuses on the road. “I shouldn’t have told you that,” she mumbles.
“Lainey, what happened to your mom is not your fault. You were a kid. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen,” I say softly.
“Even still, I missed out on that time with her. That was one more chance I could’ve had to tell her I loved her, hear her laugh, see her smile. And I said no.” She flips on her blinker again, and pulls into the nursing home’s parking lot. She turns the engine off, and the quiet is suddenly deafening.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. I reach a hand over and lay it gently on her knee. “I know that twenty minutes would’ve done so much for you in terms of healing.”
