Everyone did the same, and then looked to Ammalie, as if she was meant to say something. So she cleared her throat and breathed in. “Uh, so, well…” she started. Then she straightened her spine and faced them all. “So, here’s the deal. A few months ago, I piled a bunch of stuff in my car and started driving west. I left the three keys of my life behind—Powell, Apricot, and Mari—but only temporarily, so that I could make new friends, new keys, such as Rita, Lulu, and Aroha, all of you here. I’ve had three adventures in three places. I’ve felt three times as if I might die—once getting hurt in the desert, once being unimaginably cold in a snowstorm, and once of a body gone haywire. But I have never felt more alive. I feel so very alive. I found the key to my life; I’ve unlocked my life. With the help of you all.”
As they cheered, she handed out necklaces to everyone, so that they could all wear some frosted sea glass around their necks. She’d never found her old greenstone necklace, so she replaced it with a long green sea glass oval on a black cord, similar to the one she’d just given Powell. She’d miss the old one, but also, attachment to things…Well, the time for that was over.
When she found herself standing next to Lara near the end of the party, she said, “I happen to know a few people who should be in jail. I daydream about it all the time. Won’t you please arrest them for me?”
Lara looked confused. “Who?”
“You know those people who make first aid kits with nothing that’s actually helpful?”
Lara paused for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Yes. You think they should be put in jail for stupidity? Yeah, I’ll agree with you there.”
“And those who make videos on how fun it is to live in your car?”
Lara’s eyes lit up. “Okay, yes, and those who tell non–New Zealanders that it’s okay to come and freedom-camp wherever you want!”
“Okay, sure!” Ammalie said, laughing, and then wincing, because her abdomen was still tender.
Aroha, who had come over to listen, chimed in. “American drivers on the wrong side of the road!”
“Snotty divorce lawyers,” Mari said.
Powell made a noise of surprised hurt. “You’re getting divorced?”
Mari reached over and touched him on the shoulder. “Naw. Maximo and I almost did, but decided it was true-if-sometimes-bored love. And that we can do better. And we will.”
Powell nodded, then bounced onto his feet, full of energy. “Grocers who leave spoiled fruit out on purpose, hoping you don’t notice, which you don’t, and you get home to find your plum is gross! And also, an economy that makes it impossible for young people to get a start in life.”
“Ooof, that’s a biggie,” Ammalie said.
Lara elbowed her teasingly and said, “Lots of people should be in jail. But not people who break into other people’s houses to make jewelry.”
“Absolutely not! Not them,” Ammalie said, to which everyone cheered again.
—
Later, she caught Apricot’s eye and signaled with her head to a corner of the room. She braced herself for an impatient sigh or a roll of the eye, but on approach, Apricot said only, “I’m glad I came. A good adventure for me too. You inspire.”
Ammalie felt her eyebrows shoot up of their own accord. “Well, that’s a nice thing to say. But, Apricot, you look…so thin.” The moment she said it, she winced; surely, Apricot would be annoyed.
But her sister only frowned and turned to look out the window. “Okay. Yeah. It caught up with me.” The look on her face was grave, but she brightened a little and added, “There’s still a lot they can do. It’s not the end-end, but I do need to get serious.”
“Damn.” Ammalie’s eyes burned with tears. “Damn, damn. Damn. I’m so sorry, Apricot.” Then she reached out to hold her sister’s hand and swung it, just as she had done so often as a child. “You have so much living to do! And what about me? Selfishly, I need you! You are the person who has known me the longest, and Vincent was the other one, and I just lost him. No, it’s not fair to you. It’s not right. You deserve…”
Apricot sighed a calm exhale. “Don’t I know it. I think it all stinks, frankly. Cancer. This mortality business. But that’s just how it goes.”
Ammalie pulled Apricot into a hug.
“Come back, spend some time with me,” Apricot said, and then, pulling away, held Ammalie’s shoulders. “This adventure of yours reminds me of that game we played as kids. Remember? How we’d pretend we were being chased by bad guys, and had to hide out? But at the end of the day, we always went home.”
“I’ve thought of that often.” Ammalie then took both of Apricot’s hands in hers. “Thank you. For those games. For being such a wonderful big sister back then. And yes, I’ll come.”
“And then you can do Cave Valley.”
“Yes.”
“Is it a cave or a valley? I don’t get it.”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe I’ll come visit you.”
“I’d love that.”
“I want to see one of those things. A…ringtail?”
“Yes. There are ringtails and there are coatimundis. And cactus!”
“I want to be of more use. In whatever time I have left.”
“Excellent. And Scrabble. I want to play one game of Scrabble with you.”
Apricot looked confused, but shrugged. “Sure thing, sister. Whatever strikes your fancy.”
—
She had talked with Mari and Apricot—and now, Powell. He broached the topic bluntly and without preamble as they walked slowly down the black sand beach the next morning. “So it sounds like Dad stayed in touch with the Sis family here and never told you about it?”
Ammalie bit her lip. “Your dad was a good man and he loved you an insane amount.”
“I know it.”
“And I don’t ever want to dis him. He was your father, and a good one. But there were lots of things, really, that he never included me in on.”
“Or me.” He stopped and kicked at the sand and looked out at the waves crashing in. “You don’t think I noticed all the nights in the basement? All the times he was reading about geology or stars or Vikings and not, ya know, upstairs doing homework with me? Doing dishes with you? You don’t think I noticed how much time he seemed to need to himself?” Now Powell was as angry as Ammalie was surprised. “That’s the thing about this that’s hard, Mom! I grieve him and he’s dead and yet I am also angry. Or maybe sad. And it’s weird having so many contradictory emotions!”
His voice was bitter, but Ammalie couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said right away. “I only laughed because what you say is so true. That’s exactly what I’ve been having a hard time with myself. Exactly. Exactly.”
“No one really talks about that!” Powell said. “What the hell am I supposed to do with all that?”
Ammalie turned and looked at the waves, so steady as they unfolded and glided to shore, one after the other. “I dunno,” she whispered. “Feel it all. Talk to me about it, I guess. Also, look at those waves. They’re like the regular heartbeat of the planet, no? Let them be soothing?”
Powell turned too and seemed to seriously consider the waves for a long time. “It’s not like Dad was a bad guy,” he finally said. “He was a good guy. But night after night after night…the basement. I hate it down there. I hate that I hate it. And then I want to walk down there and talk to him. I miss him. It’s so fucked.”
She reached out and hugged him, rocking him back and forth. “Me too. Me too.” She almost told him the full truth—that she had come to hate the basement and the silence so much that she’d been ready to leave Vincent, was only waiting for Powell to be established, was still trying to wrap her brain around the logistics of a divorce. But she let the words die in her throat. Maybe someday. What would they help now? It sounded as if they both had to struggle with grieving someone while letting some anger dissipate. It was complicated enough.
When they quit hugging, Ammalie reached out and scratched Powell’s scruffy cheek and then put her arm around his shoulder as they continued walking. He was taller and broader-shouldered than she was, but she could still manage, the zings and plings of joy lighting her heart with every step.
—
