Page 79 of Seven Days in June

“Anyway, he chose me, and that was fucking that. I loved him instantly. And I took great care of him. I did all this research on what turtles like to eat, and twice a day, I’d make him tiny fruit salads with live crickets as garnish.”

“Gross!” Audre looked at Eva, delighted.

“Crickets were extremely his shit,” said Shane. “Anyway, he liked to follow me around, and since he moved so slowly, I walked really slowly so he could keep up. We would just shuffle around the house together, like geriatrics.”

“Hmm. Codependency,” said Audre. “Continue.”

“He was my little man, you know? I spoke to him in Spanish exclusively.”

“Why?” asked Audre.

“He was Nicaraguan,” he said simply.

“Hold on,” said Eva. “You speak Spanish?”

“Suficiente para hablar con una tortuga,” he said.

“You’re actually insane,” said Eva, chuckling.

Shane grinned, visibly proud of himself. “Anyway, one day I came home from surfing, and he was gone.”

“Where’d he go?” asked Audre.

“Off to chill with some other drunk writer, I guess. I was gutted. But then one day he came back. I dropped everything. This time he stayed for a good six months before he wandered off again.”

“Very slowly, I assume,” said Eva.

“In the back of my mind, I’m always low-key hoping I’ll run into him again.”

“Well. All will be revealed in the fullness of time,” mused Audre. “Mr. Hall, did it ever seem weird to you that you were so attached to a turtle?”

“Itwasweird. And, like you said, codependent.” Shane shrugged. “But I accepted it. He showed up one day, and we had an immediate friendship. We drifted in and out of each other’s lives, but we were attached, no matter what. Me and your mom are like that. We’ll always be friends, no matter how much time goes by.”

“I see. One second.” Without saying a word, Audre got up from the table and walked out of the room.

“What did I do?” he whispered to Eva.

“Wait for it,” Eva whispered back.

Thirty seconds later, Audre entered the kitchen in a new look. A sensible black sleeveless jumpsuit and horn-rimmed glasses with no prescription.

“Honey,” started Eva, “what is this outfit?”

“Doctorate in Psychology Realness,” she announced, and then slid back into her seat. “Mr. Hall, it’s clear from the turtle thing that you need therapy. Here’s my card. I can help you, if it’s okay with my mom.”

“It’s not okay,” said Eva. “Shane, whatever you do, don’t give her any money.”

“Can I at least ask a couple more questions?” Audre leaned over the table toward Shane, conspiratorially. “What was Mommy like in high school? Did she sign your yearbook? What clubs were you guys in?”

Shane folded his arms across his chest, thinking. “Honestly? She was the smartest girl I’d ever met. And fearless. She’d say anything that came to her head, like you.”

Audre brightened. “You think we’re alike?”

Shane glanced at Eva where she stood at the counter, watching them. Then he smiled at Audre. “Yeah, I do. A lot.”

“No, I was a misfit.” Eva settled back onto the bench, next to her daughter. She slid a glass of lemonade in front of Shane.

“We both were,” he said.

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