“I know,” I said.
“I don’t even start school for another three weeks,” he went on, rubbing at his face. “What am I supposed to do all that time? Sit around and watch them get divorced?”
“Benji.”
“I don’t have anything there,” he sputtered, tears filling his eyes. “Not like this.”
Oh, man, I thought. I forced myself to take a breath. “I know how you feel.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “You get to stay here.”
“For about two more weeks,” I replied. “Then I have to move to a totally new place, with totally new people, and start a totally new life. I’m terrified.”
“Luke will be there,” he said, sulkily.
I stretched my legs out in front of me. “Yeah, but I’m not exactly his favorite person these days.”
“But he’s here, though. Isn’t he?”
I looked down at him. “What’s your point?”
He shrugged. “Just that he said he had plans, earlier. That he was missing the party, too.”
“He just saw me looking for you and could tell I was worried,” I said. “Look, I know you think you’re all grown up and all, but you can’t run off like that. Your dad is freaking.”
“He’s just mad because I’m not doing exactly what he wants,” he grumbled, picking at the floorboard beside him. “He hates that.”
I had to smile at this, although I quickly damped it down, as best I could. “I don’t think anyone likes that much, actually.”
“Are you still mad at him?”
“Who?”
“My dad.”
It was not what I was expecting, so it took me a moment to answer. “No. Not really.”
I was surprised, hearing myself say this, that it actually felt true. Was I sad about the way things stood, and did I wish, still, the spring and even this summer had gone differently? Yes. But the anger, somehow, had lifted, leaving behind a sense that I could deal with whatever came next for us, even if it was nothing at all. Which sounded bad, I knew. Having no expectations for some people in your life can be depressing, if not devastating. But with others, it’s what is necessary. The hard part is not just figuring out which one applies, but accepting it.
“He’s really bad at saying he’s sorry or wrong, even when he knows he is,” Benji said now. I raised my eyebrows, and he explained, “That’s what my mom always tells me when I get mad at him. Sometimes it makes it better.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I can see how it would.”
We sat there for a minute, side by side, the sky still blue above us. I thought of the party still going on at the Pavilion, and wondered if Clyde had already made his big announcement, anointing Theo as he expected. By tomorrow, the show would be over, Ivy would start packing up, and Benji would be gone. All this thinking—consciously not thinking—about how things would end, and now, just like that, they were about to. It was the very nature of summer. So many long, lazy days when blissfully, nothing changes, and then everything does, all at once.
I heard a car approaching and I leaned over to look out a crack in the wall behind me. My father’s Subaru was pulling in, parking beside the truck. Luke walked over, and my father rolled down the window. After a moment, they both looked over at the sandbox.
“Your dad’s here,” I told Benji. His shoulders sagged, his face reddening. “I know. But maybe just tell him what you told me.”
“He’ll still make me go,” he grumbled.
“Probably,” I agreed. “But at least he might understand why you don’t want to. And sometimes, that’s the best you can ask for. Okay?”
He nodded, and I pushed myself to my feet. My father was out of his car now, Luke standing nearby, both of them looking at me as I left the sandbar and walked over to them. As I got in earshot, my father said, “What? He wants to be forcibly removed now?”
“He’s upset,” I told him.
“I’m upset,” he shot back. “We’ve got half the town looking for him. He needs to stop this nonsense and get in the car. I don’t have time for this.”
“Then make time,” I said. Luke raised his eyebrows. I stepped closer to my father, lowering my voice. “He’s your kid, he’s scared, and he needs you to tell him everything is going to be all right.”
“He’s not a baby,” he said. “He can handle the truth that is the world.”
“He’s ten, and he needs his dad.” I could feel my throat get tight. “Please just make sure he gets that, if for no other reason than I’m standing here asking you. If you do, I swear to God, I will never trouble you for anything else.”
“Hey,” he said, sounding surprised. “I’m your dad, too.”
“No, you’re my father,” I said. “I have a dad, and right now, Benji needs his. Not a lecture. Not fixing, because he’s not broken. Just your attention and your patience and your time. Just you.”
“Emaline,” he said quietly.
I shook my head. “Go. Please.”
I was crying now, why, I had no idea. The tears just came, carrying with them all the strain of these last few crazy days, this year, this summer. As my father looked at me, I knew, this time with certainty, that it was too late for us. But with Benji, he had so much time to do better. And it started right here, right now.