Page 51 of Second Dance
Our food arrived then, distracting us from the conversation. A seagull landed on the railing, eyeing the potato chips. I shooed it away. As it drifted into the ocean breeze, it squawked in protest of my lack of sharing.
We ate in silence, the chatter all around us a good buffer.
After a few minutes, Bella set aside her plastic plate and leaned her shoulder against mine. “Dad, I know you’re the one who wants me. Who’s been here. I’ve been acting awful. I try not to but then it just comes out. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said lately.”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against me. “It’s all right. We’re going to get through this.”
“I miss her so much,” Bella said.
“I know, baby. I know,” I said.
“Don’t just erase her. Please.” Bella pressed her cheek against my chest.
“I’m not erasing her. But she wanted me to keep on living. She said I should be open to a new love should the right person come along. She told me that right before she died.” I chuckled. “She also said if I chose some skank, she’d come back to haunt me.”
Bella giggled. “That sounds like her.” She straightened, looking across the table at Gillian. “She was super tough.”
“Suffered no fools,” I said. “Kept us all in line.”
“What kind of sandwich would she have ordered today?” Gillian asked.
Bella looked out toward the ocean, and then up to the sky. “Cheese and avocado. That was her favorite.”
“With pickles on the side,” I said.
“Yeah, she loved pickles,” Bella said.
“Did you know your mom was the one who suggested Willet Cove,” I said. “Thought I should move you guys to a beach town, where life was quieter.”
“Really?” Bella asked.
“And you know I could never say no to her,” I said. “So here we are.”
Gillian met my eyes from across the table. Instead of feeling threatened by memories of my wife and Bella’s mother, she’d asked about her. A gesture that touched my heart and reminded me of why I’d fallen so hard for her all those years before. This was a woman of character and generosity, without insecurity. Considering the details of her childhood, it was almost hard to believe she’d turned out as she had.
“We should grill tonight,” I said. “You and Grace should come for dinner.”
I saw her glance in Bella’s direction to gauge her reaction before answering.
“Bella, how would you feel about that?” Gillian asked.
“I’d feel fine,” Bella said casually.
“Great. We’ll be there,” Gillian said.
I paid the bill and then we all got up from the table and headed toward the car. I gestured for Bella to take the lead, but instead she grabbed my hand like she used to when she was small, then looked back to smile at Gillian. That small act of openness nearly made me cry. As hard as today had been, it had brought us together. I just hope it stuck.
That evening, I paced around the kitchen, getting in Sonya’s way as she prepared a marinade for the chicken. We had music playing and the French doors to the patio open, letting in the briny scent of the sea.
“Don’t be nervous, Señor Alex,” Sonya said. “Everything will be all right.”
“I just hope Bella behaves herself,” I said quietly, aware that the kids were upstairs.
“She’s humbled after what happened earlier,” Sonya said. “Poor sweetie.”
“I don’t know what to do with her half the time.”
“Don’t worry so much. Teenagers are hard. My daughter was terrible, and look how she’s turned out now.”
