I’ve lost Jason. One second, he’s next to me; the next, he’s gone. He’s like a dog—short attention span, throw a Frisbee and it’s see-you-later.
I don’t much feel like mingling, so I snag a cup of hot cider and find a bench to sit on. I can see Hannsett Island from here, the twinkling Christmastime town it is this time of year. The Lighthouse Medical Center is the brightest spot on the island, a castle on a cliff.
I know a lot of people resent the small towns they grew up in. Not me. Hannsett Island holds some of the worst and best years of my life inside of it. I might be a Scrooge who scowls at the capitalist trap of holiday tradition, but I like routine. I like predictability. I like knowing that, every year, the Hannsett Island Ferry is going to look like Rudolph barfed all over it, and Mrs. Prichard is going to make the same watered-down cider, and Jeff Goins is going to belt carols like his life depends on it just so he can remind everyone later about that time twenty years ago when he almost got into Juilliard.
My parents passed on—my mom when I was a teen, my dad almost five years ago—but Hannsett Island, in its own way, adopted me. It takes care of me, and I take care of it.
I sip the cider. Sure enough, it’s watery, and it burns the roof of my mouth, but I’ll probably grab another before the night is over just so Mrs. Prichard can waggle her eyebrows and go, Can’t get enough, can you?
Another loner orbits nearby. Otto has broken away from the festivities. He’s leaning against the railing, pressed up on the fake garlands and red ribbon. His bulky helmet slides forward a little as he gets on his toes and peers over the edge to watch the water churn below.
“That’s how the mermaids get you,” I say, because I’m an asshole, but he’s also leaning pretty far.
Otto startles, as though he was doing something wrong, but when he sees me, he gives a shy smile. “I was just looking.”
“Wanna keep me company?”
“Okay.” He sits down beside me. He tucks his hands in his lap, looking small.
“You like the water?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. I love swimming.”
“You’d like this place in the summer.”
“That’s what Mum said.” He rocks in place. “My last birthday, we had it at the community swimming pool. It was really fun. I can hold my breath longer than any of my friends.”
“Aquaman, over here.”
He beams. Fuck, he’s a sweet kid.
“When’s your birthday?” I pry, because I have a nagging that won’t leave. My Miss Clavel senses are tingling, and they have been ever since I first ran into Kenzi and Otto at the medical center.
“May 12th,” Otto says.
It doesn’t take me long to do the math.
A May birth means he was conceived August or September, probably. And if we roll it back to August, thirteen years ago…
Kenzi isn’t in college, like she said she was. She’s on the floor of a tattered sailboat, losing her virginity with her two best friends in the same room.
That jet-black hair. Those ice-blue eyes. It all makes sense now. Why Kenzi left in a rush. Why she never came back. Why she lied over the dinner table about Otto’s father.
He’s a mini- Jason King.
My brain is going into overdrive to process this information. But Otto is a kid—just a kid—and so I try to reel myself back in and have a conversation with him. “May 12th,” I muse. “Let’s see…that makes you a Taurus.”
Otto’s eyes get wide. “What’s a Taurus?”
“It’s the star sign you were born under. Everyone has one. Taurus is a good one. It’s a bull. It means you’re strong. Your emotions are powerful.”
Otto seems to think about this. “Are you a Taurus?”
“No. I’m a Virgo.”
“What’s a Virgo?”
“A pain in the butt.” I nudge his attention toward the drink cart, where Pearl is glancing around, clearly looking for him. “I think your grandma has another hot chocolate with your name on it.”
He gets up but stops after taking a couple of steps. He turns and asks, “Are you going to still be here?”
My chest cinches. I nod. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay.” Satisfied with that answer, he takes off toward Pearl.
Cute kid.
Good kid.
Fucked-up kid if he’s got any of Jason in him.
Speak of the devil…
Jason and Kenzi reemerge from…wherever they were hiding, walking up the deck. Jason, who can’t lie to save his life, looks not like the cat that ate the canary, but more like the canary that ate the cat.
“How’re we hanging?” Jason asks, tossing himself beside me and throwing his arm over the back of the bench and, consequently, around me.
Jason has a habit of taking up enough space for three humans.
“This is a family event,” I inform him, “and your breath smells like pussy.”
As quickly as he settled, he retreats—Jason pushes off of the bench and starts toward the bathrooms. “I’ll be right back.”
“Good idea. Wash your beard.”
Kenzi takes his spot. Now it’s the two of us. The carolers finish their mournful rendition of “Ave Maria,” and everyone claps because it’s over. Now, the band—the real band, some guys from Brooklyn that they had to pay the LIRR fare for, probably—starts up. It’s a brass band, and they launch into a jazzy version of “Santa Baby,” immediately livening up the audience.
“Are you having fun?” Kenzi asks.
“Living the Christmas spirit,” I respond acerbically.
Her eyes are distracted, glancing around worriedly. “Have you seen Otto?”
“Yeah. He’s with Pearl.” The dim twinkle lights that hang from the ship give Kenzi’s skin a soft glow. She rakes her fingers through her thick raven hair, taming it a bit.
I hug my arms over my chest. “About Otto. Anything you want to talk about?”
She blinks at me. “What do you mean?”
I purse my lips. “Jason is crap at math. I’m not. You want to change your story about his father?” She squints at me. I expound. “At dinner. You played with your earring. It’s always been your tell.”
“Jesus.” She exhales the word. “You have the memory of an elephant.” She rolls her hands over her thighs uncomfortably as she looks everywhere except at me. She’s looking for an exit.
“I get it,” I say, because I have to say something to keep her here. “Eighteen. Pregnant. I’d run, too. Does he know?”
She looks back at me, and I see it now—the fear in her eyes is raw. Palpable. “You can’t say anything,” she says, her voice a rushed whisper. “Please. It’s complicated, you wouldn’t understand—”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Her lips seal at that. The look in her eyes, it’s that of a cornered animal.
“Please, Donovan,” she repeats. The urgency in her voice is sharp, metallic. It’s that feeling of having a razor pressed to your skin—not deep enough to draw blood, just enough to make a dent the flesh. The chilling anticipation of pain.
She thinks I have her heart in my hand. She has no idea that the opposite is true.
“I won’t tell him.”
Her eyes brighten a little bit. Or maybe it’s the Christmas lights twinkling in her irises.
“But…” I add, “as…lovely as the other night was, I think we should stay just friends while you’re here.”
The light in her dims. But her smile remains intact. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
“That’s what I need.”
She extends a hand. “Friends?”
“Friends.”
We shake on it.
“Also. Whatever is going on with you and Jason…”
“It’s stupid,” she says quickly. “Insane. With…you know. Otto. It makes no sense. I know I need to step away.”
“Don’t,” I tell her. “I haven’t seen him this happy since Nadine. I think he needs this as much as you do.”
“Right.” She’s looking off to the water again. That ten-mile stare.
“Anyway,” I add, “maybe Jason and his big dick will convince you to stay.”
She laughs at that. It’s a beautiful sound. “Asshole.”
“Slut,” I retort.
She rests her head on my shoulder, and the both of us look out into the limitless inky black of the ocean, the smattering of stars.
“I missed you,” she says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.
My heart kicks. “Missed you, too.”
A flurry of movement lands in Kenzi’s lap. “Mum!” Otto grabs at her arm, tugging her. “I got to steer the ship!”
Kenzi gasps audibly. “What? That’s so cool!”
I can’t lie—seeing her in mom mode makes a smile tug at my lips.
Pearl and her fur coat step beside Kenzi and lean over. “It has Fireball in it,” Pearl whispers fugitively as she extends a paper cup.
“Pearl, seriously?” Kenzi complains.
“Whoa!” Jason dramatically bursts into the scene—he splays his arms out suddenly, as though he’s catching himself from falling, and his whole body sways as if we’ve hit an iceberg. “Do you guys feel that?”
“Feel what?” Otto asks, entranced.
“The music in your bones!” Jason grins—a dopey fucking grin—and starts snapping his fingers to the beat. “C’mon! Let’s dance.”
A grin splits across Otto’s mouth. Jason—the ball of cheese he is—has gotten everyone excited now. He gets Otto dancing, and Pearl, and takes Kenzi’s hand and gets her to her feet as well.
I cross my arms and dig my hands into my armpits. But it’s no use. Between the four of them, they manage to drag me off the bench and pull me into their dance circle.
