Parker STUCK

NEEDLESS TO SAY, I COULDN’T sleep. If Elayna hadn’t interrupted, what would Amelia have said? Would she have wanted to give us a shot? Could we have finally broken through this gray area to the truth?

I knew that Amelia saw the loss of the babies as a failure, could tell that it was weighing on her. And I was now more convinced than ever that I wanted to be a dad. Sometimes I still considered hiring a surrogate for the last two embryos. But what had seemed like such a great plan months ago, now only made me feel lonely.

I finally got up and went to the window, opening the drawn curtains and looking out onto the water. I wondered where Greer was now, what she could see, if heaven was as beautiful as this part of earth.

And then I saw her. Not Greer. Amelia. I couldn’t help but smile. How many times had I watched her out this window? How many nights had she taken to her kayak with nothing more than the light of the moon as her guide? I double-checked to make sure she was alone, that Harris was nowhere in sight, then I opened the door of the octagon house we had shared only a few months ago, and made my way down to the Saxtons’ dock, where their kayaks were in racks.

I pulled one by its top handle. She had been able to lift this by herself? The stillness and cool of the night was refreshing, the way the moon painted a trail onto the water hypnotic. I watched as Amelia paddled lazily, turning left into the “maze,” as we used to call it, into a tall patch of marsh grass. The path through it changed often. It was one of our favorite parts of childhood to try to navigate it in a new way, sometimes successfully, sometimes getting stuck in the oyster beds below.

The kayak made a small splash as I dropped it into the water and slid in myself, holding a paddle in my left hand. I pushed away from the dock, realizing that there was almost no current tonight, and made the box with my arms that Mason had taught me almost thirty years ago. I slid the paddle in smooth, nearly silent strokes, marveling at how it could seem so dark and then—once your eyes adjusted to the brightness of the moon on the water, to the vividness of the stars—so incredibly light.

I reached the entrance of the maze quickly, expecting to paddle furiously to catch up to Amelia. But when I turned, she was sitting right at the edge, as though she was waiting for me.

I was behind her, and even though she couldn’t have seen me, she said, “I didn’t want to get stuck out here alone.”

The weight of her words struck me, heavy and poignant. What did she not want stuck, her kayak? Herself? Maybe both. And what about me? Did I feel stuck? I decided, as I paddled right up beside her, yes. These past three years I had been a kind of stuck I never could have imagined. Everything that used to be in color seemed gray. My job. My house. My life. Even my friends in Palm Beach. Everything around me was covered with the scent of Greer, the feel of Greer, the memory of Greer. It was only now that I realized that while, yes, it had helped me remember her, maybe some things are meant to fade, maybe some things have to fade in order for us to quit feeling trapped. Because that’s what I was. But the thought of moving out of that house, of resigning from my position at her company, made me feel light-headed. It was too hard. It was too much. And, yeah, I guessed I knew she was never coming back for me. I had known that the entire time. And that made letting go of the life we had shared that much harder.