Page 108 of Every Chance After

Marnie

For all its casual awkwardness,the ceremony has the beautiful finality of a funeral. Wren, wearing a long black cape and jeweled everything, including sparkly flecks around her eyes, shares a few monotone words about how decay is needed for growth and letting go of past pains will do the same for us that it does in nature—she’s very profound for a seventeen-year-old.

She tells us to speak or not, however our hearts guide us. Then, she releases her boat first after showing us how to fold it. It drifts into the almost stagnant water, finding a little breeze to travel on.

She lights a thick stick of sage, running the smoke clouds over herself, which she does for each of us in turn after we release our boats.

Wade goes next, saying nothing, eyes glassy with tears—he claims allergies, but we all know better. I imagine guilt over Maureen makes his list, but I hope he also includes the grudge with Mack. It’d be such a joy to bring the Tripp family back together.

Christie clears his throat and says, “I’m letting go of insecurities for having a sensitive soul and liking pretty things. My wife, Wren’s mom, would say I wasn’t ‘man enough’ for her, and that was long before I wore what I wanted. She also dressed Wren in pink hair bows and frilly dresses, so she didn’t know us at all. She could never know us or love us truly, if she refused toseeus as we are.”

He pulls Wren close to his side, and she leans her head against his shoulder.

“Wren and I have been exactly ourselves since she left,” he says, “and we’re happier for it. So, goodbye, Jessie Dean, and all your hate talk and narrow-minded judgments. I will never again apologize for being myself.”

“Neither will I,” Wren says, “and that’s entirely thanks to you, Dad.”

“Love you, Moonbeam.” He sets his boat free, his long, floral kimono flapping as he wishes it away. Wren puts her black lace arm over his shoulders before cleansing him with the sage’s smoke whisper.

Roy steps into the dock’s center. “I have a statement prepared.” He sets down the paper plate of chicken wings he brought with him, still holding the drum he’s in the middle of eating. BBQ sauce covers his lips and drips into his unkempt, patchy facial hair.

“I deeply regret my actions in buying the babydoll nightie,” he says, eyeing me between glances at his paper, “and any discomfort it caused. My heart is bigger than my brain. That said, I’m letting go of certain ideas about women—Wren helped me make a comprehensive list.”

He holds up the BBQ-stained page that contains dozens of listed items.

“When I fell off the pole—the electric pole, not the stripper’s pole,” he goes on, “and had to take disability after being a lineman for twenty-five years, I felt depressed and found comfort in things that weren’t good for me. But Marnie’s helped me see that I still have a life and a purpose… although that purpose is not to get her laid.” He breezes through the chuckling. “I let go of feeling lost over what I’ve lost.”

My heart pitter-patters over his profound statement and how it’s what I need to hear, too.

He clears his throat and reads, “Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.”

I gasp, taking in the imagery, and feel tears threatening to fall. “Oh, Roy.”

“Those aren’t my words. A guy named Merwin wrote it. But, you know, Google’s a wonderful thing.” He sticks the wing in his mouth, roughly folds his boat, and sets it, lopsided and stained, on the water, setting the chicken bones inside. Then, he pushes it away from the dock, where it mingles with the others.

That’s how I felt after the accident—lost over what I’d lost and everything shadowed by the absence. My hand goes to my stomach, missing what will never be, and my head falls softly on Grady’s shoulder, standing beside me.

His hand circles my waist, pulling me closer. Softly kissing my forehead, he whispers, “Ready?”

We say nothing as we set our boats adrift. Though it’s only paper that will soon be saturated and vanish into the murk, sending them off feels freeing and necessary—like these delicate, little objects hold the heavy weights we’ve all carried for far too long.

The tiny paper boats bobble, causing small ripples in the water underneath them and changing the surface reflection into something more unique. It’s lovely in the strangest way. One tear slips out that I quickly brush away, and Grady tugs me closer like he knows what I’m feeling.

I take in the occupants of this rickety swamp dock as we stand in silence. I’m surrounded by people who defy expectations.

Wren, for being a teenager who chooses to be herself over fitting in.

Christie, for raising Wren to be a free spirit, and showing me what a father should be.

Roy, for simply being Roy and for his big heart.

Wade, for giving me a chance at the expense of his comfort and letting me change everything.

Grady, for giving up his solitary life, his time, his everything. For me.

Now, I’m counted among them—The Queen of Lost Causes and Second Chances, spared from an expectant life for one that will be whatever I want it to be.

And Grady Tripp asked me to dinner! At his place!Eep!Every time I think about it, I feel butterfly wings in my stomach and tingles everywhere else—all those lovely things I thought were over for me. I’m flushed and flustered with excitement. To be there. To see how he lives. To meet his dogs. To eat his food. To be with him on his dock as the sun goes down on the lake. And maybe…

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