This was a walk that called for silence, and they both knew this somehow. The dog did, too. They listened to the waves striking the pilings, and the hustle of the morning wind past their ears, and the occasional passing vehicle on the new bridge that ran parallel. They were walking out into a confluence, and they could feel that power beneath their feet.

In the middle of the bridge they stopped and looked out at the immensity of the Atlantic. Asher stood behind his son and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Asher and Justin: father and son, connected forever.

Normally in a moment like this Asher would say to Justin that he was everything in the world to him. He wanted to tell his son that his own existence meant nothing until he was born. He wished Justin could know the way he felt about him, the way no child could ever really fathom until they cherished someone else completely. Being a parent was a constant heartache, an endless act of making sure the child was as safe and as happy as a person could possibly be in this life. Asher wanted to tell his son that he would die for him, or kill for him, and everything in between. He wished he could tell Justin that he had given his whole self to him without question, with total sacrifice. But he didn’t need to say any of this. It was contained in the way he touched his son’s shoulders, the way they stood there together, two people alone in this world made of nothing but endless waters and a strip of concrete crossing them.

10

10

I always wanted to come here, to the Keys,” Asher said as they strapped back on their seat belts.

“Why didn’t you?”

Asher wheeled back onto Route 1 and then they were on the Seven Mile Bridge, crossing.

“Your mother never wanted to. Couldn’t hardly get her out of Tennessee unless it was for a revival.”

Shady stood on Justin’s lap, his front paws on the door. He squared his face out into the rushing air, ears clicking at the wind.

“I miss her,” Justin said.

“I’m sorry, Justin.”

“I know.” Justin kept his eyes on the Gulf. “But I get it.”

“Do you?”

He nodded. “She lied, in court. Granny did, too.”

“How do you know that?”

“Granny told me,” Justin said, still not meeting Asher’s eyes. He was watching as a white speedboat bounced away across the waves. A woman in a bikini was leaning against the silver boat railings, her face against the wind. “She didn’t say they lied, but that they didn’t tell the whole truth. Which is the same thing. Granny said she wanted me to know it was wrong.”

Asher didn’t know what to say, so he kept his eyes latched on the road.