“Then I’ll hail a cab…or ajeepney.”
“What if you can’t get acab? If all the jeepneys are full?” His mom released an exasperatedsigh. “I’m not trying to make your life harder. The lessons willjust take a little over a week, two hours a day. You can do it inthe morning—and in the afternoon, you can get your ankle sprainedin ultimate football or whatever it is you do.”
He laughed at how his momwas mixing up his summer hobbies. He’d first tried flag football,but stopped after twisting an ankle during a bad fall. Later, he’dtried Ultimate, where he realized that catching a Frisbee was muchmore fun that streaking across the field with a football tuckedunder his arm. He’d gotten to know both sports groups through theinternet, and found out they hung out at the university’s footballfield during summer afternoons. With the masterclass out of the wayand Ginny busy celebrating weeksaries and monthsaries with Noel,Caleb had been forced to find other ways to keep himselfoccupied.
“Okay,” he saidresignedly. “Driving lessons it is.”
She reached for his handand gave it a squeeze. “Thank you. Also, I could use an alternatedriver. I’ve filed all my vacations leaves and this won’t be ourlast road trip this summer.”
Caleb returned her smile.Road trips, the sea, he and his mom. A lot of things might havechanged over the years, but it was good to know they could stillenjoy the old happy stuff, the stuff that mattered.
His mom resumed readingher novel, its cover showing an illustration of a woman, her bodicepulled low to show a scandalous amount of cleavage, which theshirtless stud behind her was obviously admiring. But Caleb knewthis wasn’t the only reading material she’d brought. This morning,he saw another book peeping out from her duffel bag.Understanding Your Gay Son, the title had read. She never read the book when he wasaround, but just the thought that she’d brought it here made himhappy.
A round of cheering andshouting floated from the distance. The beach volleyball game wasstill in progress, claiming a huge square of the shoreline. On asummer weekday, the beach held a sizeable throng, but there wasstill enough space for a game.
Caleb leaned back,watching the people pass him by. So many different kinds of peopleon the beach, on this planet. He wondered what they were thinkingabout, how they were feeling. Wondered if they could tell he wasgay because of the orange board shorts that he wore, or the way hestraightened up to brush the sand off his knees. Or maybe theycould tell because of his new buzz cut? He’d shaved his head a weekago because he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hair. He wasstill figuring out a lot of things about himself.
His hair reminded him ofFranco, who, along with Drew and Tara, had already graduated fromthe university. For weeks, Ginny had complained nonstop about howWordplay wouldn’t be the same without the triumvirate. Officers hadbeen elected to compensate for their absence. The three foundersassured the members that they would still help out—but not as muchas they used to because they, too, were figuring out what to doafter graduation.
Then there was his mom,who was also figuring out a new phase of her motherhood, andpossibly, of her life. She looked so different now in her flowerydress and her hair coiling past her shoulders. He supposed thefiguring out never ended, no matter how old a person got. It wasboth a scary and comforting thought.
Amidst yells from thevolleyball game, a ball sailed in front of them, landing with asoft thump on the sand in front of Caleb’s chair. He sat up toretrieve it.
“Thanks!” A guy was jogging up to him, tanned rosy cheeksstretched into a friendly smile. Caleb threw the ball to him andwas instantly aware of the details that followed. Floppy, longishhair that flipped outward at the ends. A trim torso tucked into apair of blue-and-white-striped board shorts. And when the mysteryvolleyball player turned to leave, two hills hewn from pure musclejutted out from the back of his legs. He whirled back so suddenlythat Caleb didn’t have time to look away.
“Do you play?” he asked,the sunlight winking in his hair. “One of us is taking a breakafter this set.”
Caleb had never played avolleyball game in his life. He began shaking his head in apology,but stopped himself. “Not really,” he said sheepishly. “But I cangive it a try if you guys are cool with it.”
“Okay.” The smile crawledback into his face. “I’ll call you over when we need you. I’m Ezra,by the way.”
“Caleb.”
As Caleb settled back intohis chair, he silently rolled the name on his tongue.Ezra, a biblical namelike his. He wished he had Kate’s Book ofBaby Names so he could find out what the name meant.
He turned, catching theshrewd look in his mother’s eyes. Blush,blush, blush, his cheeks went. He snatchedhis sunglasses from the foot of the chair and shoved them past hisnose. Then he dropped his head back and pretended tosleep.
Her voice drifted towardhim. “That boy’s cute.” She paused. “But his hair’s too long for mytaste.”
The unexpected commentrendered him speechless for a few seconds, just before his lipscurled up into a smile. “It’s just hair, Ma.”
“I know,” his mom said,getting up on her feet. “I miss the air conditioning. In case Ifall asleep, wake me up for dinner?”
He nodded as she bent downto pat his cheeks. “See you later, mahal.”
At that one word, Calebfelt his heart leap. He gazed at the blue before him, rememberinghow, as a child, he had attempted to hold the sea in his arms.Surely, his arms were bigger now—stronger and longer. But he knewhe still wouldn’t be able to hold all that happiness shimmeringbefore him. Still, it was okay. Some things were just too big, toobeautiful for him to hold on to.
He settled back into hisseat, listening to nature’s orchestra: the whisper of waves, thewind blowing, the shrieks and yells from the volleyball game. Fromtime to time,
