He’s been this way since he was a kid—a sensitive Black boy surviving in a world where all its stereotypes tried to beat that softness out of him. He feels so deeply and intensely, she doesn’t understand how he hasn’t shattered into a million pieces already.

But she knows he survived because he’s so much stronger than he gives himself credit for. He took those beatings, and he took their slurs, and he refused to let it break him. Growing up he learned how to be quiet, how to hold it in and protect himself. He let other people project their thoughts and feelings onto him to survive. Only people important to him, like Joy, know the truth.

People like Summer don’t know. They just see the result and want it for themselves, but they wouldn’t know the first thing about caring for someone like Malcolm.

Joy asks, “Do you really feel like I’m unsupportive? Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. I really want to know.”

He hesitates by placing his hand on her knee. She knows his answer and he doesn’t want to say it.

“Answer me,” she presses, voice whisper soft.

“Sometimes.”

“Okay.” Joy’s face feels too hot. Her jaw begins to hurt as she nods in acknowledgment. Her bottom lip pokes out as she screws her face up to keep from crying, but she pulls it back in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was making you feel like that.”

“I’m sorry too. I really did spring this on you last minute. You were right—you weren’t supposed to be here, and I’ve been trying to make up for it, but I don’t think I’m doing a good job.”

“You are.” Joy places her hand over his. “I’m just . . . frustrated too. We haven’t been being honest with each other lately. Why did you keep Summer a secret from me?” She pauses to breathe and find her courage. “Is it because of Caroline?”

Joy wants him to say no, needs him to. She’s waiting, holding on to hope as if it’s a life raft because it’s the only thing between her and drowning. And when the denial doesn’t come, Joy turns away in shame. Outside, the lake looks as serene as ever, mocking her with its tranquility.