Page 46 of Give & Take

A generous read was that he took more pleasure watching us unwrap ours. Probably because he was just as surprised as we were at what we got, given mom did all the present buying and wrapping.

But I think now it was a cruel kind of lesson.

He knew we watched him with big envious kid-eyes as he unwrapped each of his presents with excruciating slowness. He knew how painful it was seeing him get totake all the time he wanted on his when we were all done.

But even if his reasons weren’t kind, the result was a huge lesson—the absolute power of self-restraint.

Even though I didn’t care about his socks or ties or deeply boring golf-related presents, I saw how by waiting—and then by savoring what he had—he was always the winner.

The challenge of holding back to sustain my pleasure, or to receive all-new, betterpleasures on the other side, is something that’s never served me wrong in life.

I was the one who paced myself at the bar in college, and I was the only one able to carry on a conversation with a girl while my friends mushed their words and stumbled outside to pee on their shoes.

Now, it’s easy. I know how to hold off. And I know how to stop when it feels like it’s just getting good.

This is a skill these girls haven’t yet learned. One I need to teach them. One that today, I’ve been too self-absorbed in my own personal woe to notice is lacking until it’s too late.

Thirty-six mini-donuts in, Nova looks slightly queasy, while Aurora looks downright unwell.

This is very not good.

“Nova,” I say, concern pooling in my stomach as I come back to the present and fully into my giant lapse in judgment. “Can you give me the donuts please?”

Her hand falls limply open as I take them.

“I never thought I’d say I had too many donuts,” she says. “But I think that’s too many donuts.” She slumpsdown into the sand next to Aurora, who’s already on all fours.

Oh my God.

I wasn’t paying attention. All I could think about was Lana. All I could do was stare at the Rusty Dinghy, praying for a glance of the girls’ mom as her daughters stuffed donut after donut into their mouths.

Now I pray she doesn’t come out to see this.

I reach for Aurora’s hands. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll carry you to the car.”

“I can’t move,” she moans.

I’m just trying to figure out the best way to pick her up without jostling her clearly tender stomach when I hear a voice behind me.

“Raph?”

Panic spikes through me. It’s a woman.

But when I turn, it’s not Lana.

Two women around my age stand side by side, beach towels tucked under their arms. The blonde one in a flowery sundress looks familiar.

When she smiles warmly at me, I place her. It’s the girl from the ferry the other day. Jenny? Jenna? I think it’s Jenna. I should be happy to see her. She has kissing feelings for me. Or at least, she handed me her number unbidden.

But Jenny-Jenna’s timing couldn’t be worse.

“Hey!” I settle on. I look back at my girls, who stare at the ocean like forlorn and deeply seasick sailors.

“I thought you were just here for the weekend,” Jenna says, oblivious to what’s happening.

“Oh. Yeah, well, I took a job for the summer,” I say, distractedly.

I realize our stuff is still everywhere. Keeping an eye on Aurora, I begin to cram toys and towels into our beach bag.

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