Page 6 of Here & There

Alone.

Except for stupid Richard.

“Bryony,” Richard says. “You…tried. I guess. I really don’t get why you didn’t just do brunch, but come on. Can you blame them for being upset?”

“You said it was a good idea,” I say quietly.

He scoffs. “I did not.”

“No, I remember. Youwerelistening. I asked you to please put your phone away and tell me exactly what you were thinking. You said it sounded nice. You assured me it wasn’t ridiculous.”

“Bryony, sweetie. Ridiculous is kind of your thing.”

He reaches for me, but I back away. “No.”

Richard props his hands on his tan slacks. My eyes take in the man in front of me: thousand-dollar sunglasses hooked into the collar of his pin-striped button-down. Beige cashmere sweater knotted over his shoulders. Blond hair combed into a perfect swoop back from his face, somehow untouched by whathad to be a strong sea wind on the way up here. But his worst accessory? That smirk. It’s the same one my dad wears when he’s talking to anyone he believesbelowhim. Service workers. Clients with regular green Amex cards. When did Richard start taking that on? He probably practiced it in the mirror to get it just right. I feel suddenly ill.

“Come on, Bryony,” he says. “Let’s just?—”

“No,” I repeat. “I need you to take a break from all the ‘let’s.’Let’s calm down. Let’s be serious.”

He’s so surprised by my sudden lack of acquiescence, he blinks. “What?”

I notice then that his nose is a little sunburned, and there are little indents on the bridge where his sunglasses pressed into his flesh.

I frown. “I think, actually…thatIneed a break.”

“Yes. Good.” He pulls his sunglasses out of his collar like the matter’s settled. “Let’s take a breather, and we’ll meet you back on the boat. We’ll just go home a little earlier than we planned.”

“No, Richard. I mean I need a break from us.”

Richard laughs midway through unfolding the arms of his sunglasses, then sobers. “Bryony?—”

“Just go back to the boat, okay? Take my parents. Go have a date with them. Date that woman at the coffee shop. I see the way you look at her. Just…leave. We’ll talk later. Right now I need…I need some air.”

I head for the doors. Then I pause, turn around, and grab a fork from the table of food I so carefully arranged.

I walk up to the camel, grab it around the midsection, and stab the fork into its hump.

Richard jumps, gasping so loudly it’s almost a scream. I kind of wish I could stick a fork in him too.

The camel wheezes helium as it lowers slowly to the floor. I feel bad for thinking that about Richard. But not that bad.

I push through the doors and walk down the path. Then I pick up speed, running as fast as I can until I realize it’s the heels holding me back. I kick them off and sprint the rest of the way down the path in my stocking feet, the cold, damp forest floor barely a thought on my feet.

I stop at the end of the dock, chest heaving, tears streaming down my face. The water taxi’s there, moored at the dock on the mainland maybe half a mile away. I could call him.

Water laps against the pilings. A bird titters in a bush behind me. The world goes on like I’m not on the precipice of flipping my life upside down.

I breathe the cool, damp salt-tinged air and consider my options.

Behind me is heavy, bone-crushing pressure. In front of me is ocean; trees; mountains.

And maybe someone who knows who I really am.

I think of the blue camel in my pocket. The woman who loved my mother in a way Iknewhad to be better than the way my mother loves me.

What if she’s right there? I look up into the mountains, to the town of Redbeard Cove.

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