56 doesn’t know where else warmth will come from. His clothes are wet to the skin and the rain hasn’t let up. And it’s getting dark. He lifts his head to get his bearings, sees the lighthouse standing dark and lonely a few miles south and wishes the light could keep him company. Where’s the Coast Guard? He looks for the Bottoms Up where waves kick spray beyond the jetty. No light there. Other rocks string out like a black necklace, volcanic rock slapped and shaped by millions of waves. About a quarter mile in he can see the beach, grey sand and the promise of people, maybe an old couple walking their dog. Maybe they see him roll in with the waves and take him to their cottage, sit him by a fire with a hot cup of tea and a pile of blankets. A wave splashes his leg. He can’t risk another swim among these rocks. Even if he wanted to risk it, he doesn’t have the strength to try. But a fire would be so nice. He closes his eyes and he’s back in the old cabin feeding the woodstove, Mom on the couch and Lacey playing with her blocks. Eight years old with no old man and him in charge of the chainsaw, felling trees on their five acres to keep the woodstove burning through winter, filling the pickup in the fall to make extra money. A wave splashes his boots. He can’t remember his last fire. Maybe with Rachel, before they left Lincoln City? Lincoln City. It dawns on him he might not see home again. More work up there, but the bullshit with Randy Morgan, then Rachel’s cousin getting her the Grotto job. And now he might not see Rachel again. He can’t believe he might not see her again. She’s at work right now, waiting for him to come in so they can talk about the baby during her dinner break. He told her he’d think about it, but he hadn’t come up with anything all day. Just how young they are, how he can’t even sit at the Grotto bar. Now he might never sit at that table he likes, tucked into a corner with a view of the bay, where he can watch Rachel float through the restaurant, watch everyone watch her. She’s the hottest thing in there, hot without trying, hottest first thing in the morning. Her favorite outfit is sneakers and jeans and he loves that, wouldn’t have lasted so long with a princess. Like her mother Nancy. Fancy Nancy. A wave soaks his lower half. Josh clamps down against the cold and squeezes his rock. What was the last thing he said to Rachel? Early dark and something about seeing her later. Something a friend might say to another friend. He can’t remember the last time he told her he loved her before she told him. Maybe Lincoln City? Maybe
CIRQUE her mother’s right and she deserves more. Maybe she’ll find a guy who gives her necklaces and flowers and takes her out to more than just movies. A guy who’s thrilled right away to have a baby and doesn’t need time to think about it, and then not even think about it. A wave reaches up to his waist. He didn’t even kiss her this morning. Now he’ll never kiss her again. That first kiss at the movie theater during Spiderman, spilling soda in her lap. That first night in his room, Mom serving beer at Shucker’s and Rachel’s mother thinking they were at the movies. Rachel calling the shots, that first night only touching, a current tingling between their fingers and bodies. The nights that followed with Rachel ramping it up, so far out of his league with her looks and popularity, rebelliously slumming and trusting him with her virginity, and now he’ll never touch her body again, never feel the swell of her belly and their baby thumping around in there. A wave splashes his head. The margarita Rachel dumped on his head right after they found out, after she took the home pregnancy test in the middle of their drink, shock on her face when she walked out of the bathroom and asked, “What are we going to do?” “Whatever you want,” he’d said, and it felt true. It felt like a good answer, but she dumped her drink on his head. He’d licked salty tequila slush from his lips and walked as calmly as possible to the shower. The hot shower. Hot water at the turn of a nozzle. And stayed in there a long time, letting hot water pound his head until it turned lukewarm. Wondering what he should say or do, wondering what a father was supposed to do. Cold seawater slapping his back. He does want her to do whatever she wants, but he hopes she keeps the baby. He hopes she knows him well enough to know what he wanted better than he did. He would have made a good father. If he could just write a message on his hand: Keep the baby! Maybe I love you! on one hand and Keep the baby! on the other. A baby without a daddy, but he and Rachel turned out all right, didn’t they? She’ll go back to her mother, who will secretly be happy, never saying it’s just as well to get rid of the deadbeat right away, before the kid’s even born. Start from scratch. But her father isn’t as bad as they make him out to be. Derek. Firm handshake, rough hands, wearing jeans and looking around the gym after graduation. Has Rachel’s stepfather threatened to hurt you if you hurt my daughter? Josh shaking his head. Stepfather George with soft hands, wearing a suit. Well, he’s a pussy. I know Rachel’s a big girl, and I know you don’t know shit about me, but if you