Page 9 of This Kind of Forever
When she walks away, Pops returns his focus to me. His gaze is assessing. If I had been the kind of kid to get into trouble, I wouldn’t have been able to get away with it under his watchful eye. He seems to see everything. But luckily for both of us, I did everything in my power to actively avoid breaking any kind of rule.
“Are you planning to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks. “Or do I have to guess?”
I roll the rook between my fingers as I debate what to say. “Gabe Bowman visits you,” I decide on.
Pops nods. “Yes. We’ve had some nice chats over the years.”
I swallow as I place the rook back in the box. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here.”
I used to visit as much as I could. Between school and work, it wasn’t a lot. Pops’s retirement home is on the mainland, so I didn’t even have to set foot on Kip Island when I’d come up from Toronto. Yet the proximity always felt oppressive. Like I was being strangled with my own past.
He grabs my hand. “You have a life, Hallie. I want you to live it. As much as I love spending time with you, I don’t expect youto be here every day to keep me company. I’m in a good spot, I promise.”
I know he is. Even when I couldn’t convince myself to make the trip, I’d call often. He’d tell me stories that he’d heard from his friends, the latest drama on his floor. He is still Forty Acres Retirement Home’s reigning bingo champion. By all accounts, he has a better social life than me.
“I got a job,” I tell him. “Carole offered me a position at the gallery. It’s not a lot of hours, but it’s something, and it means I’m staying.
Pops gives my hand a squeeze before letting go. “You’ll be phenomenal.”
I finish squaring away the chess board as one of my grandfather’s friends comes over. They get into an animated conversation about a book they both read recently, and I smile to myself.
“Bye, Pops,” I say when there’s a lull. I lean down and kiss his cheek. “Try not to cause too much trouble. I’ll be back soon.”
Now that I’m home, I plan to make use of every second I have with him. To make up for the time I missed.
He smiles up at me, and his eyes crinkle at the edges. “I’ll be here.”
When I settle into the driver’s seat of Clara’s Volkswagen Beetle, which she has affectionately named Marv, out in the parking lot, I blow out a heavy breath. Then I force myself to put the car in gear and drive.
Boarding the ferry that will take me from Tobermory to Kip Island is a familiar dance. How many times in my life have I done it? Hundreds, if not thousands. I often went shopping with Clara and her mom on the mainland; Pops would take me down to the city to see a play or visit a museum.
Coming back to the island after a long day was supposed to bring with it a sense of relief, like your head finally hittingyour pillow when you’re tired beyond measure. For me, the ferry pulling away from the dock was like the lock on a cage engaging.
Today, as I watch the late afternoon sun reflect off the water, I know it still feels the same. Trapped for another day.
When I push through her front door, Clara looks up from the romance book she’s reading. “Hey,” she calls. She’s curled up on the couch in her usual spot. “How was your visit?”
I paste on a smile, not ready to divulge to her all of my worries. They’re my burdens to carry. “It was really nice. I’ve missed him.”
“Who won today?”
I roll my eyes. “Pops. But you know he cheats!”
Clara laughs as she stands, setting her book aside. “I was thinking of going to Haven House to eat dinner with my parents. Wanna come?”
Once upon a time, I felt like part of their family. But distancing myself from this place meant distancing myself from them, and now I’m not sure where I stand. As much as I love Maggie and John, the thought of sitting down to eat with them while my head is such a mess leaves a sour taste in my mouth. One look and they’ll be able to suss out that I’m feeling off.
Not to mention, there’s no telling whether a certain brother of Clara’s will be there, and I’m not quite ready to face him again. I’m not sure I ever will be.
“I’m actually feeling pretty tired, so I think I’ll just stay here. Tell everyone I say hi, though.”
“Are you sure?”
Maybe I’m being entirely too dramatic. Maybe Clara is right and I need to rip the Band-Aid off. Face the music. See the hurt in Gabe’s eyes once the shock of seeing me has settled.
I think, more than that, I’m scared of what I won’t find. What if he doesn’t care? What if he’s forgotten all about me—us andall of our almosts? I know I should hope that he has, but the prospect of being the only one still hung up on our past hurts.
“I’m sure.”
