Page 16 of Finding Jack
I wondered if I could convince Grizzled Andrew to take a picture of Paul and me doing the Titanic pose on the boat. Except I’d have to convince Paul first before I could even take a crack at Grizzled Andrew. Oooh, maybe I could convince ANDREW to do the Titanic pose with me. Yessss.
He wouldn’t go for it. But maybe…I sat up and pulled my phone from my beach bag and snapped a few pictures of the bay, then the boat, then subtly worked it around to point it at Grizzled Andrew. If I could get a good shot of him, maybe Jack could do something—
Oh. Wait. Jack? Jack had no business on the boat with us. I deleted the picture of Grizzled Andrew and put my phone away.
For the next hour I did my best to be the poster girl for Most Relaxed Slooper Ever. I tried. But all I could think about was that Paul was crowding me and the shore was too far away and...
I recognized the feeling. It was the same feeling I had when Josh Greeley invited me to his fifth grade birthday party, and it turned out I was the only guest because he wanted to proclaim his love for me.
Trapped.
I felt trapped.
As soon as I put a name to the feeling, a giant metaphor rose out of the bay in the near distance. We weren’t far from one of the most famous islands on the West coast. “Hey, look,” I said, straightening and pointing to it as an excuse to create some space between me and Paul. “That’s Alcatraz.”
Paul blinked back to the present and smiled. “That’s where we’re going next.”
“Cool,” I said, meaning it.Anythingto get off this boat right now. “It’s one of those things I’ve meant to get around to but just haven’t yet.”
Grizzled Andrew guided us into the dock and gave us simple instructions to help him tie up the boat. I stared at the prison where it squatted atop the highest point of the island, and a little buzz of energy hummed in my chest. It was the signal of an adventure to come, and I grinned. I loved poking around in history, and I couldn’t believe I’d gone this long without poking around the history in my own backy—er, bay.
Paul helped me climb onto the dock then hefted out the picnic hamper he’d lugged onboard from his car, and we started up the main trail. It forked here and there, but the primary path to the empty prison was wide and paved with clearly marked signs, so when Paul took one of the forks, I stopped and pointed to the sign ahead.
“The prison’s up that way.”
“I know, but we’re not going there.”
“We’re not?”
“No. I thought it was weird enough to bring you to a prison island. It’d be going a little far to drag you through it.”
“I mean, sure, but only if you actually dragged me through it. I’m going willingly, and I’m sure there are tours.”
“Yeah, but then we’d have to figure out what to do with the food. And I didn’t book Andrew long enough for lunch and a tour. We’ll come back and do the tour sometime, but I think you’ll like this.” Paul pointed further up the hillside toward a side trail. “A conservancy society restored the gardens the old wardens’ wives planted over the years, and I heard it’s a great photo op.”
Photo op. You know what would make a great photo op? A prison. I could just imagine what Jack would do with a—
Ugh.
Dear self: you are not currently responsible for finding stuff for Jack to Photoshop. The whole internet does that for him already. You are on a date with Paul. Your boyfriend. Pay attention.
And I did. Paul had brought some of our favorite foods, and the botanical society had created an oasis of native plants and heirloom flowers on a bluff with a gorgeous view, and we took it all in as Paul looked up the different flowers.
A light cloud cover drifted over the sun, muting the colors of each blossom he named, but I felt it even more keenly in my mood. Little wisps of cloud collected in my chest and filled in a growing hollow in my stomach, and no matter how many words Paul said or flowers he told me about or times he asked me if I wanted more hummus, I couldn’t clear the fog inside me.
Dang it.
No. Dang it wasn’t a strong enough word for the disappointment that crept up the base of my neck on the way to forming a full-blown headache. All the while, I smiled at Paul as he gave me word after word about flowers and shrubs and Alcatraz.
And as I wondered how to find the words I would have to say to him next, I finally recognized the feeling, and what it meant.
I had to break up with Paul.
Chapter 7
“Hey, you okay? You’re awfully quiet.”
I glanced at Paul, softening at the concern that touched his question. Grizzled Andrew had maneuvered us out of the slip and sent us back across the bay.
