Everyone’s silence pools around me as Johnny’s meaning starts to sink in. That things are supposed to wear out, that it’s not a problem we have to solve, or a process that needs to be stopped in its tracks like something out of a commercial for wrinkle cream that makes looking like an old lady sound like the worst thing an old lady could ever do. Wearing out doesn’t mean something’s broken. It means it’s doing what it’s supposed to be doing.

And that’s how everything is here. Not that everyone feels like you have to grow old gracefully or whatever. Just that everyone’s allowed to do it their own way, but the fact is that they’re getting old—same as me, really. Rose always says that we’re all the same age because we’re all the oldest we’ve ever been. I think that’s her way of helping me not feel left out.

“Well.” Suzie breaks the silence, hoisting herself up by the back of the seat. “Me and this mean ol’ grizzly best get tonight’s grub on the fire. Jason, you get home safe now, ya hear? Pack the smelly shit up tight. Don’t want no trouble with the Coast Guard.”

“I will, Suzie. Thanks.”

“And you, missy, you give that man o’ yers something to eat.”

“Oh, she will . . .” Johnny does his stupid eyebrow dance and laughs at his own super-awesome joke.

Gross.

“Ignore him. Y’all mind how you go. Don’t do nothing what can’t be fixed with glue or a big ol’ smooch.”

They walk us out, stand on the porch, and wave goodbye.

Next stop is the Oceanic. Frances has an easel set up on the porch, painting the sunset. Which is appropriate because if you think about it, really good sunsets always look like really bad paintings of sunsets.

I look out at the view as well. I think my mother’s hand is moving across the sea, smoothing it like a sheet, like my hair or my forehead. She’s thinking about me. Right now. I can feel her thinking about me.

The medical setup here is pretty spontaneous, and Jason’s part of it. It’s not chaotic; the doctors and nurses just do what they think they need to do when situations arise. The equipment is sparse, used, ordered off the internet or obtained through connections in the last places they worked before Swan. Most of the pharmaceuticals come from the internet, ordered in bulk and sent to a shared post-office box in Portsmouth. And Jason’s the only non-Swan with a key.