Page 8 of Give & Take

Chapter 3

Lana

If it were literally anyone else, I’d apologize for my girls hitting him in the head with a ball. But it’s not anyone else. So instead, I just say, “It’s you!” Which is a real prize-winning response.

But I don’t know what to say to him. My tongue is in an annoying knot, which is unusual for me. My ex liked to say I had a “barb tucked into my cheek for every occasion.”

His lips quirk up on one side. He’s about to say something, but just then the ball smacks him square in the face, making a fresh, new, and deeply satisfying littledoyng!sound. The moment brings me back to myself. I’ll have to buy Chris some flowers.

“Nova!” I say in half-hearted admonishment.

But it’s Aurora who giggles, her little hands on her knees.

I’d like to give her a “good job”, but that would negate the manners I’m trying to teach her.

The guy picks up the ball. “I’ll be right back,” he says, then does that sad excuse for a roar and sprints after them before I can say anything.

The girls flee before I can stop them, laughing and spraying sand everywhere.

I’m about to call out when I hear my name.

“Lana!”

I turn to see my friend Shelby waving madly from her beach chair. She’d been blocked by the spectators. Next to her is her friend Deanie, from Vancouver. Both women are heavily pregnant.

I look over my shoulder at my kids, hesitating.

“It’s okay, we know him,” Shelby calls over the resumed sounds of the beach. Kids squealing. A boombox thudding.

“Unfortunately!” Deanie chimes in.

I’m deeply confused, but down by the water, Nova’s got the ball, and she’s chasing the guy around with it over her head while he runs in figure-eights.

I head over, bare feet sliding in the hot sand, and give each woman a hug. “How—?” I ask, confused.

“That’s Raphael,” Deanie says. “And I swear sometimes he didn’t mature past ten.”

Finally understanding clicks. “That’s yourbrother!” I’m unable to hide my astonishment. Shelby mentioned Deanie visiting expressly to give her younger brother something to do. He was not what I’d been picturing.

“Yup,” Deanie says.

I stare at the man chasing my kids around, feeling all kinds of conflicted. He looks over at me andshrugs, as if in apology for not coming back as promised. I give a tight nod, since the girls are screaming at him to chase them.

“I thought he was a college student?” I ask. I hadn’t given him much thought, but Shelby mentioned he drove Deanie up the wall. I’d been picturing an eighteen-year old kid trying to get his big sister to buy him beer.

“Grad student,” Deanie says. “He’s doing his doctorate in English Lit. Don’t ask me why.”

Shelby shifts her legs aside and pats the end of her chair.

I sit down, digesting this new information. “Oh.”

“Do you…know him or something?” Deanie asks. She gives me an apologetic look. “Was he talking to you? He talks to everyone. He’d talk to a rock if it gave him the time of day.”

“Something like that,” I say, still distracted by how enamored my kids are by him. He runs backwards, moving with the grace of an athlete, his long, lean form hopping easily over a piece of driftwood.

“Wait, Lana,” Shelby says, putting two and two together. “Is he the guy from the concession stand? The d?—”

“He was being…” I don’t want to tell her that her brother was hitting on me, do I?

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