In which things are a little boring but we get through some information, and also I need an actual computer chair
3:30 the next day found Andie out on the beach playing with Turtle. As she turned in the wind to pull her hair out of her face, she saw Gryphon approaching, carrying a picnic basket. “Do they make sunscreen for cats?” he asked as he stopped.
“Actually, white ones can get skin cancer from the sun,” she answered, looking at her grey tabby. “Where’s your passel?”
“I got the rest of the day off. Are you up for a picnic?”
She walked closer. “Sure. What’re you offering?” He opened the lid to reveal sandwiches and salads and fruit. It looked heavy.
“There’s a nice park just up the beach,” he said.
“Just let me get Turtle indoors.”
They walked to the park and settled under a tree on some beach towels Andie had grabbed before leaving. After a while Gryphon asked if she’d ever been married. The sadness he’d seen behind her eyes spread across her face. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No, no,” she sighed. “It’s OK.”
“I’ve just seen something in your eyes, a long-ago sadness or something.”
She sighed and began to tell him then about Alex, from the day they’d met in high school to the day he let out his last breath. He felt pain for her loss and her subsequent years of solitude.
“I’m so sorry, Andie.”
“It was a long time ago now. Sometimes I can’t believe how long.”
“You’ve been alone ever since?”
She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t want to be around anyone. Or know how to anymore. I wasn’t able to care about anything. Sometimes I don’t know why I got up in the morning. I don’t know why anything happened these past seven years.”
“But now you do want to get up in the morning?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what happened. It’s like something brought me back from a long, long way away. I think my landlady is responsible, actually. It seemed to start when I was here with her a few months ago.”
“She sounds like a great lady.”
“She is.”
They packed up the picnicky remains and headed into town, ostensibly for ice cream. “What about you? You’re great with your sister’s kids. Have you been married?”
“Now you get to hear my story,” he said soberly.
They were walking slowly home when he finished. “So, I do and I don’t have a daughter.”
“I think you do.”
“By now, cripes, he’s her father now. She was far too young to remember me.”
“Maybe. And maybe you’d be surprised.”
2 comments:
Nice! Except I might have to re-read some of the older chapters, it's been a while!
I hope you do get a computer chair soon! I use a salvaged kitchen chair myself.
Yeah, after I posted I thought I shoulda opened with a recap.
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