Page 63 of Good Half Gone

Chapter20Present

I Am Practicedin the art of acting indifferent. But when Leo says those six words to me—“I know why you’re really here”—I cannot control my breathing. I open my mouth to say something, but instead I draw in a jagged breath I then have to blow out through my nose. I’m lightheaded with panic and so dizzy I’m sure I’m going to pass out. Of course, he figured it out. He is a therapist trained to figure it out. Words pile on top of each other in my mind; I try to find something to say, but I’m too flustered to make sense.

“I’m here for the same reason,” he says. I stare at him blankly.

“You couldn’t help her, so you’ve dedicated your life to helping…”

“Yes.” I sound strained, but I am collapsing on the inside, falling to a mental floor in relief. Leo cannot know why I’m really here…even though he’s right about that part—the part about me wanting to help—I’m not here for that this time.

“Wanna hang out later?”

His voice is just for me.

“Yeah, I kinda do…” I say, surprising myself.

His eyes travel my face slowly like he’s sipping me up. I feel the look from my fingertips all the way to my toes.

“Good.”

I stare at his mouth since he’s staring at mine.

“Good,” I say back.

He hands me his phone and I put in my number.

We part ways in the woods near the back door of the staff kitchen. It’s more cheerful than the courtyard behind the patient kitchen where the men gather to smoke. As soon as the door closes behind him, I follow Leo’s directions, walking through the woods around the side of the building until I reach the security gate. This one has space for an actual key—which he took off his key chain.

“Give it back to me later,” he said when he handed it to me. “There’s a plum tree just outside the gate, sweetest plums you will ever taste.”

I unlock the first gate and then relock it behind me. A fenced corridor leads to another fenced corridor. I’m in a maze of wire. I let myself in and out of one more gate. I see the plum tree but I don’t stop to pick fruit. I cannot miss the water taxi. I walk along another portion of the building, and then I’m on the front lawn of HOTI, at the bottom of the hill that leads to the dock. I am surprised to see Bouncer standing outside the door, wearing her red parka and smoking a cigarette. She barely looks at me when I pass by, her attention on the dirt at her feet. I go to the dorms to pack up my things. There are a bunch of people stripping their beds, calling out to each other to hurry up.

“The sea boat waits for no one,” a male voice says.

“Bet it would wait for Grayson…” another voice says back. I dump my linen in the chute and grab my bag from the foot of my bunk. It’s the first time I’ve not wanted to leave Shoal Island since I started the job. I find a seat inside. I’ve barely sat down when Leo texts me a playlist.

He likes music from the nineties—Matchbox Twenty and Third Eye Blind will still be good decades from now, I think. Aside from his stellar taste in music, Leo is also naturally interested in people. And he is considerate.He’s also at least sixteen years older than you, I remind myself.That’s sixteen years more mature than any man you’ve dated.

At the center of Seattle’s waterfront are nine historic piers, built at the turn of the 1800s to serve the railroads and the Alaskan Gold Rush. I park across the street and make my way toward the aquarium where we agreed to meet. Cal texts me a picture of his friend Luke’s golden retriever puppy with a praying hands emoji. He is at a playdate at Luke’s house..

Nice try, I send. Then, He’s cute.

I dodge dopey-eyed men and their enthused wives, almost trip over toddlers as they dart around and then abruptly stop. The pier is lined with shops and food. I walk past the ticket booth to the Ferris wheel and the signs advertising sailing trips around the sound, asking myself what exactly I thought I was doing meeting him here. I feel stupid and foolish, until I spot him. He hasn’t seen me yet, but he looks nervous too, glancing up every time someone walks near because he thinks it could be me.

He’s waiting for me in front of the aquarium, wearing a gray coat and a black scarf over blue jeans. His face lights up when he spots me.

“Hey, stranger…” He smiles.

We walk back the way I came, toward the restaurants. Leo suggests we eat at one of the fast-food restaurants that serve fish and chips and world-famous chowders. It’s dark outside and cold, but the pier is busy. People mill about taking photos of the wheel as it changes from neon pink, to blue, to yellow. We make our way over to a table, our breath visible in the cold.

“This was a dumb idea.” He sets the bag of food on a picnic table and looks around,rubbing his hands together for warmth. “The temperature has dropped ten degrees in the last half hour.”

Despite trying not to think of Piper, I think of Piper—about how close we are to the trash can where the homeless woman found her bag. He’s a handsome distraction to my dark thoughts. Producing two cans of Coke from his pockets, he slides in next to me.

“I’ve seen you eat those nasty cafeteria fish sticks, figured you had to like real fish and chips.”

“I didn’t know I had a dinner audience,” I tease.

“You’re hard not to look at.”

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