Page 22 of Tides That Bind

Nate knows this too, of course. But I say it anyway because I know if it were me, I’d want to hear it.

From my side, Tides breathes uneasily, the rise and fall of his chest thumping quickly against my leg. I reach down to sooth his anxiety through a head pat, but it does nothing to change things.

There is nothing that can change this.

“Harper?” Silas comes up beside me. He offers his arm. “Can I help you back to your seat?”

I stare at his pristine uniform. He’s so official. It’s a stark contrast from how he showed up at my door in sweats, his eyes swollen from sleep. But like I didn’t want him there that night, I don’t want him now either. I’d prefer to never see him again.

“You can sit. I can walk back on my own when I’m ready.”

I just don’t know if I’ll ever be.

Silas’s mouth hardens into a line. I don’t care if I’m being impolite. I’m sure Nate would tell me to be easy, the way he would with Riley.

I take a deep breath and wait for Silas to leave before I pat Tides again and finally return to my seat beside Claire. The dog doesn’t follow, but I let him be. He deserves a final goodbye in peace too.

For a minute, Tides walks the length of the coffin, dragging his leash before he finally lays down. And for the next twenty minutes, he doesn’t even twitch an ear as our families and community bids farewell to our hero.

After the line thins, Lucas slides into my lap and clicks his tongue. Tides lifts his head before he stands and walks toward us, sitting at my feet.

My heart shatters, threatening to burst out of my chest. But instead, the broken pieces make their way up and sneak out through my eyes in what feels like an undammed river of tears.

The only times Tides ever left my husband’s side so easily was when Lucas called him away from the coffin. And now it hits me.

Nate is gone.

I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath so my cries and shaking don’t scare Lucas. From beside me, Claire brings her hand to my back and I wish so badly I can comfort her too, but I can’t. With one arm wrapped around Lucas, I let my other hand fall, finding comfort in Tides’s thick fur.

I hold on and wait for it to be over—the crying, the funeral, all of it. I only loosen my hold on the dog when he stands and Lucas gasps in such amazement, I wonder if all this has been a nightmare and if I look up, we’ll find Nate standing in front of us.

“Riley!”

I take in the silhouette of his body, his broad shoulders and slender build. He wears dark blue pants and a shirt that’s torn at his elbow, making room for the cast that covers his left hand and forearm.

Riley doesn’t make it to the coffin. He hangs his head for a minute, standing just steps away from a goodbye. Lucas shimmies in my lap since he hasn’t seen Riley since…before.

There’s now a before and after.

Before, Riley would find Lucas in a crowd of a thousand. He’d probably make some stupid, silly face, sticking out his tongue. It’s something I might think Lucas has grown out of now, but Riley always manages to keep him a kid just a moment longer.

And now—in the after—when Riley turns, he walks right past Lucas as if he’s not even there.

We’ll never be the same.

“Mom?”

Tides wags his tail frantically as if Lucas has been gone days instead of minutes, the enthusiasm sparking a giggle from my son I wish I could bottle up so I can remember the sweet sound when I go without it later.

When we head back onto the sand, I unclip Tides’s leash and he runs alongside Lucas back toward the blanket, not leaving his side.

It will have to be enough. This dog and I will have to be enough.

I know I’m about to eat shit and hit the floor.

Sometimes, just knowing is a saving grace though, because I manage to grab a handful of fabric as I untwist too fast, which saves my head by an inch, but doesn’t do much to stop the side of my thigh from taking most of the hit.

“Shit,” I hiss, turning onto my back. I know if I look I’ll findthe exposed skin below my shorts beet red, a collage of tiny, burst blood vessels below the skin. I curse again and throw myself onto my back. The hammock hanging from hinges anchored to the ceiling sways. I’d normally find beauty in this movement. But really, if I had the strength, I’d rip it from its hinges and forget all about the aerial yoga program I was once so excited to now offer. After all, it’s why I took the place next door to my studio that had higher ceilings. It’s why I knocked down the wall to connect the spaces so they flowed together.

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