I stand and turn away, but it’s too late, he’s walking toward me, hurrying toward me, in fact, so quickly that I can’t even wipe the tears and snot from my face before he’s there.
“Jesus,” he says. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Except I’m not, because I can’t stop crying and my voice is shaky and my breath catches in my throat and I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate. And I’m so mortified that Griffin is here witnessing this that when he puts his arms around me and pulls me into him, I don’t resist. No, I just stand there and sob and I feel one of his hands go to the back of my head and he strokes my hair and says, Shhh in my ear, which sounds just like the ocean. I don’t know how long we stand like that, but it’s long enough for my tears to have totally soaked the front of his shirt. Finally, I can draw in a raggedy breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say, lifting my head. I twist away and he lets go.
“Turning twenty-three really isn’t all that bad,” he says.
I smile, despite myself. My hair is sticking to my face and I brush it back, trying not to envision how grotesque I probably look. “That’s not what I’m upset about.”
“I know it’s not. But still, you’re not supposed to be sad on your birthday. Come on; let’s take a little walk.”
He holds his hand out and gives me a half smile. It would be easy enough to just turn away, to say I was tired or wanted to be alone, but I reach out and take his hand and let him lead me down toward the beach.
We walk a little ways without saying anything. His fingers are intertwined in mine and he moves his thumb in a circular motion over my wrist bone. He’s humming a song, something that sounds familiar but I can’t quite place. I tilt my head a little closer to try to hear it better.
“You ever come down here before?” he asks as we approach the jetty that marks the end of Fulton Beach. He hops up onto one of the rocks and then holds his hand out to help me up.
“I’ve been here a few times,” I say, hoisting myself up. The jetty stretches thirty or forty feet into the water and gets almost completely engulfed at high tide. It is that time of year when the sun will set exactly in line with the rocks, so for that moment before it dips below the horizon, if you stand at the beginning of the jetty it looks like the sun and the rocks are connected.
But he walks out, toward the end, where the waves crash against the lower part of the rocks, surf spraying in the air. He sits on the largest rock and pats the spot next to him. Straight ahead, the sky is a brilliant palette of orange, red, and pink. I take a deep breath and watch as the sun continues its plunge toward the horizon.
“Everyone should get to see the sun rise or set on their birthday,” he says. He looks at me and smiles. “Happy birthday.”
In the short time since we’ve been sitting, it’s already gotten darker, though the sun hasn’t completely disappeared yet. The light is gorgeous, soft, and bending, the kind that could make anyone look beautiful. Griffin doesn’t need any help in that area, but still, the effect is stunning. The light throws shadows across his face, accentuating the square cut of his jaw, the elegant, gentle slope of his nose.
“So what’s the matter, sweetheart,” he says. “It kills me to see you looking like this.”
I shoot him a look. “God, you are so full of shit.” But I smile as I say this, and already I’m starting to feel a little better.
“I’m trying to be less full of shit, though. I really am. And regardless of how full of shit I happen to be, I am an excellent listener.”
“So you’ve said.”
“So I have. Try me. And if I suck, then you can punch me in the face and never have to speak to me again.”
“You’d let me mess with your pretty face?”
He grins. “Ah ha! I knew you thought I was hot.”
“I said pretty. And there’s a difference.”
“You’re pretty. Seriously, though. Level with me.”
I look out at the waves rolling up the beach, the white crests tinged pink with the setting sun. “Her life has completely changed. And I can tell that she tries really hard to put on this strong front and pretend that she’s not in pain all the time or that it doesn’t bother her she can’t remember anything, but the fact is, she’s got to have round-the-clock care. And she will for the rest of her life. I just hate seeing her like that, and I hate that there’s nothing I can do to change it.”
“I’m really sorry, Jill. That f**king sucks.”
“Yeah, it does. So that’s what I was kind of losing my shit over. I just don’t know what to do. Because I don’t think there’s anything that I can do. It was just so sad, right before I left we were sitting there talking and she started telling me how she kept thinking about the last time she and my dad went out somewhere together, how he’d taken her on this helicopter ride—which is actually pretty funny because he’s so afraid of heights—and how she wished she could do that again. And the one-year anniversary is coming up in a few weeks. And I know that’s got to be hard for her. She and my dad were really one of those couples that were still in love, that still really liked to go out and do things and be together.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Griffin says. “My parents are like roommates that fight all the time. Or that’s how it used to be, anyway. Now they just stay as far away from each other as possible, which usually means my mom stays at the penthouse in New York and my dad travels around doing whatever the f**k he wants.”
“Traveling around doing whatever the f**k you want . . . kind of sounds like what you were doing before you were . . . kidnapped.” I smile.
“Hey. I really was kidnapped. I don’t know why you won’t believe me.”
“Because any normal person who is kidnapped would call the police. Or would do . . . something.”
“Something?”
“Yes, something! I don’t know exactly what—I’ve never been kidnapped before. Why would someone kidnap you, anyway? To get to your father?”
“That was their plan, I think. But it just shows how they know absolutely nothing about my father. Probably to him, they were doing him a favor. Poor bastards.”
“But what do you think they wanted?”
“Money. He’s got plenty of it. And a confession, too, I guess.”