by Jolene Perry
Jay’s looking at me with that perfect expression so completely filled with love, I’m still not sure what to do with it. “How do I not know this about you?”
“I guess I kind of forgot.”
Summer squeals as a wave gets close to her toes.
“And right now, I feel like I’ve jumped ahead in this big line with you and with my life outside of this place, but still I ended up back here and with Summer, so I’ve also gone in a circle. That doesn't seem like much of a straight path.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth. “I don’t think journeys always move forward in the way we think. Geographically, we’re back here, but in reality, in your heart and your head and your life, you’re a thousand miles ahead of where you were when you were in high school and pregnant with Summer.”
I poke him in the side. “You’ve gotten smart, Jay.”
He touches his nose to mine. “Learned from the best.”
I tuck myself into his side, both of us already slanted toward Summer and where she’s playing in the edge of the ocean. Already we’re shifting toward her. Toward making her a part of our life.
“I don’t think we should go to Gem Cove,” I tell him as we watch her jump up and down on a large piece of seaweed. “I think if my mom wants to see me, she can come here. I don’t want to run into Gunnar, and I think we need to spend time with Summer so she’s not scared when we leave.”
“Okay,” he says. And this okay is relaxed. There’s nothing forced or sad or frustrated. “Let’s have Summer do a sleepover at your dad’s tonight, so if there are any problems, your aunt is still close. Does that sound good?”
Something about the way that he’s already thinking ahead and planning ahead wells up water behind my eyes. I’m blinking before I realize I have tears, and all I can do is nod. He’s changed and grown up so much since we first got together. And I liked him then, a lot, but now I love him. How amazing will he feel in three more years? In ten? I can’t wait to find out. “Yeah. Okay.”
“This morning your dad told me about this great fish and chips place along the river walk. Why don’t we go grab a bite?” he offers.
I’m just nodding again, and pulling away from him to get Summer. “Fish and fries?” I ask her in the most excited voice I can find through my happy tears.
“Fish and fries!” She spins to face me and smiles my smile back at me.
We’re doing this, and we’ll be okay.
It took about an hour of bribery to get Summer to close her eyes for bedtime, and only about a minute for her body to drag her into sleep once her eyes were closed.
Sky collapses next to me in the hallway outside of the sewing room where Summer’s sleeping. “This is exhausting.”
“This is all new for her. It’s going to be exhausting for a while.” I only hope that the newness is part of what kept her running until ten at night.
“I need you to take me to bed and let me fall asleep on your chest, okay?” she whispers.
I quickly lift her in my arms and walk to the room next to Summer’s. Setting Sky down on the bed always makes me want to kiss her, touch her, or feel her skin on mine.
Tonight is different. I strip down to my boxers and then slide a clean t-shirt over my head. When I flop into bed, Sky is already in her tank and pajama shorts. She snuggles against me almost immediately.
Her head rests on my chest, and her arm rests over my stomach. So much is changing for us so quickly. But we have each other. I really need to focus on that.
Mom is even quieter than normal. It might be age. There might be some things about her that I’ll never understand.
Summer squirms on my lap at the small restaurant. Mom didn’t want to go to Dad’s house.
“I’m sorry we didn’t make it to you,” Jameson says for the fifth time.
I want to kick her under the table because Jay is being so nice, and she’s being so quiet. Maybe she’s always been this way; I’m only noticing it more now that I've been gone so long.
“Is okay,” Mom says softly. “I sometimes need to be in Ketchikan.”
Jay nods again and Summer plops another bite of taco in her mouth.
It’s hard to know that some parts of my life might not ever feel as resolved as I’d like. I guess that part is up to me.
“Isn’t Summer getting big?” I ask.
Mom nods and smiles a little. “Looks just like you. I’m glad you’re taking her.”
I cock my head to the side. “Are you sure?”
“It will help my sister. She is your daughter.” Mom’s tone is so stoic, I don’t know what to say. I’m never sure how to take her words. She’s even harder to decipher over the phone.
“I’m glad you made the trip,” Jay says. “I hope that once we figure out when and where we’re getting married, you’ll make it there too.”
Mom nods. “Of course.”
I’m partially surprised by her answer because I figured she’d come if it were convenient. Maybe that’s the answer behind her answer, I’m not sure.
Just as I open my mouth to ask Mom about where Gunnar is, I close it. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to look over my shoulder and wonder if he’s here. I never want to see him and Jameson in the same room. I release a slow breath.
I catch Jay’s eyes across the table, and he’s giving me a look that screams – I don’t know what to do. Am I doing okay? Is it always this weird?
“Yes,” I mouth to him. “It’s always this weird.”
He grins.
Summer shifts in her seat again and stares out the window. She’s being incredibly patient with our very quiet restaurant sit.
Jay holds his hand out for Summer. “Want to walk with me while we wait for them to finish?”
He’ll pay the bill on his way out because that’s what he does. Works hard so he can.
Instead of talking to Mom I watch Jay hoist Summer up so she can see the assortment of cookies on the counter. His muscles flex as she taps her finger in indecision. I breathe in deeply and the scent of the ocean and the wet and the trees fills my nose, but that smell doesn’t feel like home anymore. The salty air feels like history, and I’m okay with that.
Jay laughs as he sets her down and makes a joke with the guy manning the cash register. He pays our tab like I knew he would, but I can by how his body shifts and how he’s looking around, that he’s already putting Summer first. Watching for her. Just like he watches for me.
“Do you think you two will move back home?” Mom asks.
I don’t peel my eyes from Jay. Summer immediately reaches toward him with her small hand and he takes it. I wonder if she gets as much comfort from that as I do? It would feel so different for her, of course, but still…
There’s a little sun today, but Jay still shrugs deeper into his hoodie when he and Summer step outside onto the boardwalk.
I know why it was easy to say yes to Jay, and why him and Summer and me feels so doable.
“I’m home with Jay,” I tell Mom.
Now her smile widens. “I’m glad you’re in love with someone so warm.”
I catch a sliver of a glimpse of him and Summer through the window. She’s already back on his shoulders. “Me too, Mom.”
She pats my hand. “I’m sorry your visit was so short, but I’m happy to see you.”
“Always happy to see you, too.”
Jay was right about so many things. We’re starting a whole new part of our life, and I’m looking forward to it. And I came back to Ketchikan, but it doesn’t feel like home anymore. It feels like history, and now I’m ready to be with Jay and leave history where it belongs.
I readjust the lapels of my tux and let out a slow breath. My best man, Matt, gives my shoulder a soft slug, and Dad winks at me from the front row. Mom’s already dabbing at her eyes.
With them working at the Paris Hotel, getting access to the small chapel was simple. And free. And it feels old and is the kind of beautiful place that Sky deserves to get married in.
> Sky’s dad and his wife are here for the wedding. Her aunt is home and recovering from the chemo. She’s in remission. We talk to her often, but everyone agrees that Summer’s in the right place. After having that girl in my life for the last year, I can’t imagine sending her away. Sky’s mom sits in the front row, quiet and stoic. But she’s here. Our friends from college are here.
I let out another slow breath as the door opens and a five-year-old Summer steps onto the aisle with her basket of flower petals.
Her small brows are furrowed in concentration, and her dark skin glows against her light pink dress. Sky was so perfectly right in using the word ferocious when she described her love for Summer. I feel it too. The adjustment was so much easier than we guessed. By the time we’d re-arranged the apartment to suit Summer, we’d already established a routine, and her days at school gave us time to stay on top of college. Our movie nights turned to cartoons, and we have more Goldfish crackers in our house than I thought I’d see in a lifetime. I wouldn’t change any of it.
Summer pauses when she reaches the front. I don’t even remember where she’s supposed to go, but I give her a smile anyway. Her serious face breaks and she grins, jumps toward me, and throws her small arms around my waist. I swear my heart explodes.
My mom is waving frantically and I point to Summer. “Go to your grandma.” And then give Mom a wink as she throws me a look. She loves being a grandma, she just doesn’t like the word.
When I stand back up, Sky is at the end of the aisle with her dad.
I stop breathing.
She is absolutely, utterly, perfect.
Her cream lace dress hugs her body. Her bare shoulders show off her toned arms, and her long hair is pulled on top of her head, leaving her neck exposed. I’m swiping my cheeks before I realize tears are falling.
How… How did I get to be this guy?
I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing I’m going to have to speak at some point.
Sky knows me and gives me a smile that says—I know you love me. I love that you’re crying right now. I might use this against you later. And she can. And I won’t care.
She is everything.
Her dad gives her a quick squeeze before taking his seat and Sky puts her hand in mine. “I love that we’re here,” she whispers.
I love it too but I can’t speak. My chin trembles.
Sky presses a finger to my chin, smoothing the tremble away.
The pastor speaks words I’ve heard a million times before. Sky and I can tell each other in our own words how we feel anytime we want. Every day. But there’s something about promising her the things that people have promised each other forever that felt right for today.
“I do,” she says with a smile that relaxes my body into the moment.
I listen and take in the words when the pastor says them again. Sickness. Health. Richer. Poorer. Good times. Bad Times. Forever. “I do,” I say, and those two words are so simple but say everything.
I finally get to slide the band on her finger that goes with her diamond, and my ring gets stuck on my knuckle. Sky makes a face, gives a good shove, and gets it on.
I’m chuckling when she finishes and then we’re pronounced man and wife, and I kiss her like I’ll never get to feel her lips again. There’s no way this is wedding appropriate, but she’s mine. I’m hers. This all started because I was sad and alone and driving my dad’s Porsche in the middle of the night when she was close to home and wandering lost. I offered her a ride and she took it. And she’s followed me through so much since then. And I’ve followed her, and now I guess we move forward together.
When she finally breaks the kiss, I take her face in my hands. “I’m so glad you said, yes.”
“To what?”
It takes me a minute to find the words, and her smile turns to something more serious.
“To everything.”
She blinks, and I have her. Her chin trembles and she blinks faster.
I kiss her cheek this time and let my hands slide down her arms until our fingers intertwine.
“Forever,” she whispers.
“Forever,” I whisper back.
And this is it. Sky and Jameson forever. Because we are perfect.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you author Nyrae Dawn for your love of “boy books” that helped prompt this story. And thank you to Taco Bell for staying open so late at night, because NIGHT SKY started in the drive-thru line on Valentine’s Day in 2011.
I had in mind exactly what I wanted to happen to Sky and Jameson after Night Sky, and every time I sat down to write it, no words came. Once I let them take over, they brought me to Alaska, and created a family.
Jolene Perry
To my parents, whose love of sailing must be hereditary…
One
Mom shuffles in the door of our apartment and by the sound of paper bags, she’s brought home food.
“Need help?” My laptop’s on my lap, and my feet are stretched out on the coffee table. I click refresh on my email, just to make sure I don’t have anything new before jumping back into writing.
“No, thanks, Antony. I got it.” She steps around the corner from our hole of a kitchen.
Mom’s wide smile spreads across her angled face. She flicks her short, dark hair back as she walks into the room. “I brought Moroccan.”
“Awesome.” I set my laptop on a chair, and clear my home school crap from the top of the coffee table, shoving it onto the shelf underneath. “What’s the occasion?”
She hates picking up food, and they don’t deliver. It’s a shame, really. Almost every restaurant in New York delivers…well, except the ones I want to.
She sets the large brown bag on the table and moves toward the kitchen, where we keep our coats. “No occasion. I got a assignment offer the other day that I wanted to talk to you about.”
Mom comes around the corner, and flops back onto the couch. “When did my son get so grown up?” She ruffs my dark brown hair.
“Last year. I think it was October.” I smirk. “And watch the hair.” I point and scoot away, but we’re both smiling. Looking into Mom’s dark brown eyes is like seeing my own. I look a lot like her—same hair, same angled face. Most guys might hate that, but I don’t mind.
“Very funny.” Her hand reaches up and touches my hair more softly this time, playing with the ends. “You need a haircut.”
The way she’s staring at me puts me on edge. “I do not need a cut. And since when do you care what I do with my hair?” I try to tease, but the intensity of her look keeps my chest pounding.
Her smile falls.
Yep. Something’s up.
My stupid heart beats even harder, which sucks, cause it means something big’s about to happen.
“Next assignment is in Africa.” She pulls her short legs up on the couch.
I’m speechless. This isn’t a definite “Antony comes” kind of place. Mom has this idea that there are countries in the world that are safe enough for her, but not for me. I’m not sure yet which way this one’ll go. It sucks cause I almost always get to go.
Mom’s worked on the Today show forever, but she also does stuff for the other news networks in the same media group. She’s on TV often, but has the cool advantage of traveling all over the world. I get to follow most of the time—hence the home schooling and tutors.
“Cool, how long will we be there?” I ask, even though part of me is just waiting for her to—
“I’m going alone.” Her shoulders fall.
Dread edges its way into my gut, creating a black pit that weighs me down.
She turns to face me, bringing a knee to her chest. Whatever’s coming, I know I’m not going to like it. This is one of those moments when I wish I could stop time or something, or maybe jump ahead—that might work too. Anything to avoid what she’s about to say.
“Look, I know you barely know your father…”
My dad? What on earth could he have to do with this? Oh. Wait. “No,
no no no no.” I shake my head. “He’s like, I mean…we’re not…” No way would she send me there without her. Would she? But the weight in my stomach just doubled in weight and size.
“He’s a good man, Antony.” She’s using her mom-voice. One she doesn’t pull out often.
“That’s…in dispute.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. Dad bailed about the time Mom was picked up by NBC. I was three. Who does that?
My stupid heart keeps sending me the same message—told ya this was big.
“No.” She shakes her head. “That, is not in dispute. Your dad has always been a good man.”
“Right, which is why you two stayed together for so long.” I can feel it coming. Feel it. It’s just not like her to make big decisions without talking to me.
“We were very different.”
“Yeah. And I’m like you.” And want to be like you. No one has a cooler Mom than me. Every time a musical guest comes on she knows I like, she’ll bring me to work. And it’s never—this is my cute little boy, stuff. It’s like Hey, this is Antony. He knows New York better than anyone, so if you need any help getting around, he’s your man.
“And I love that you’re like me.” She kisses my forehead. This means its bad, because she feels bad. “But you should know the other half of your parentage.”
“My parentage?” I stare. “But that’s not it, Mom. He’s weird. He lives on a boat! And not like a huge boat, either.”
“It will only be for three months or so.”
“Three months!” This is crazy. Panic starts to set in. Spending three months on a boat with my weirdo father sounds like torture. Every nerve is precariously balanced on the edge of some sort of cataclysmic abyss. “I’ve been to Africa before. Why is this so different?”
We sit and look at one another for a moment. I’m not sure if she’s trying to think of something to say, or if she’s trying to remember something she has prepared. Either way it sucks.
