Page 12 of The Backtrack
“You know I’m right,” Pearl said through a mouthful of toast, and the two Leto women ate until they’d cleaned their plates of the buttery perfection.
It was just after nine in the morning when Sam and Pearl took the last cups of coffee out to the beach. The sun was already high—Septembers on Tybee were just as hot and humid as the dead of summer—and the air had warmed to a point where sweat started to form along the line of Sam’s spine. Sam briefly stopped when she saw three Adirondack chairs fitted into the sand underneath a generous overhang that provided some shade. There was one for Sam, Pearl and Bonnie. She’d assumed her grandma would’ve at least gotten rid of the third chair by now, which had always sat like a ghost next to them.
When Pearl sat in her designated chair, she tilted her head back and let the warm morning sun cast her face in a healthy glow. A small smile spread across her lips as she closed her eyes. “Isn’t this the most amazing feeling?” Pearl asked. “The heat and the waves. I come out here every morning.”
Sam stared out at the waves gently rolling in, and then quickly getting sucked back out to sea. A handful of terns dotted the shoreline and their spindly legs ran from the water as they searched for their morning grub. Was this the most amazing feeling?
Grandma Pearl saw paradise when she sat on this beach, but the waves crashing into the shore stirred up a kind of restlessness in Sam. Being in the blinding sunshine, but feeling a ball of dark dread in her stomach, made her feel off-kilter. Tybee Island was the place her mom had run from, and where she’d abandoned Sam.
But still, this was her grandma’s home.
“That retirement center is not on the water, you know.” Sam settled herself into the chair. Pearl loved the ocean, and this house and her Adirondack chair. There was no reason for her to leave. “Are you sure you want to move?”
Pearl squinted through her sunglasses. “I’m getting old, Sam. And you’re all the way in Paris.”
Old people wore muumuu dresses and ate applesauce for dinner at three in the afternoon while watchingYellowstone. They did not go for daily walks and drink beer and make jokes about their best friend’s obsession with painting naked women. “Eighty is not that old,” Sam said.
“A lot has changed since you’ve been gone. I can’t keep up with this place.”
And Sam couldn’t help notice the small tremor in Pearl’s good hand as she raised the cup of coffee to her lips. Then she remembered the layer of grime she’d found on the living room table. And the fact that her room was still fully intact, and perhaps not just because Pearl was sentimental.
Sam had to squint to look over at Pearl, who’d had the good sense to put on a hat. “We should just explore all of the options.” She leaned back in the chair and dug her toes in, letting the sand swallow them whole.
Pearl raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want you to think everything is on you to handle. I called Bonnie.”
Bonnie. Sam’s mom. “You called her? Why?”
“I’m leaving the house she grew up in. I figured she might want to know.” Pearl sort of half shrugged, but also wouldn’t meet Sam’s eye. Probably because she didn’t want to see the flames burning there.
“Well, what did she say?” Sam finally asked.
“She didn’t pick up. I left a voicemail. Told her to come get her things. But you know Bonnie.”
“No, I don’t know Bonnie. I haven’t seen her in eighteen years.” Sam’s fingers fisted her ponytail in frustration. She knew Bonnie wouldn’t show up—she never did—but her mom didn’t deserve a phone call from Pearl.
“You okay?” Pearl asked. “If I’d known you’d get so upset, I wouldn’t have told you.”
Sam gave her a hard look. “Yes, you would’ve. You’re terrible at keeping secrets.”
“That’s true.” Pearl settled back into the chair.
Sam tried not to fixate on the fact that Pearl had called Bonnie, and she stared out at the ocean and did her best to find the sound of the waves soothing. Her attempt at calm, though, was short-lived.
“Morning to ya, Pearl!” a high-pitched voice called out.
Sam squinted at the lean and tanned figure close to the water’s edge. “Is that...?”
“Alligator Alice.” Pearl finished her thought and gave a wave to Alice. “Can you believeshehasn’t dropped dead yet?”
Alligator Alice was nicknamed such because she was constantly out for a walk in the sun and, as a result, her skin was leathery with just as many cracks.
“Not really, no,” Sam said, genuinely in awe that this person from her childhood was still around and mostly unchanged, save for some updated wardrobe.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Pearl asked. “I know you’ve probably made a list already.”
Sam was the kind of type-A organized that meant she had a physical and digital running log of her to-do list. But she’d put off coming up with any firm plans for cleaning out the house, mainly because she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to. “I’ll start going through my bathroom,” she eventually said.
“Don’t touch mine unless I’m there. I don’t want you throwing everything out.” Then Pearl perked up. “Hey, do you still have those Beanie Babies? Aren’t they worth money now?”
