We were sitting on the patio enjoying our regular coffee. Everything smelled like salt and jasmine and the remnants of last night’s fire. And perfect. The sky was brighter. The ocean sounded better.
“Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” I said. “It feels incredible out here. We live in the best place on earth.”
Becca frowned. “It’s the same air as yesterday.”
“It’s not,” I said with complete conviction. “It smells fresher. Cleaner. Brighter.”
The kids were already set up in the far corner of the patio in the shady area. Both had their books and were sharing a bowl of grapes. They were quiet and content, completely oblivious to what their auntie had been doing a few years ago.
I took another sip of my coffee and sighed like a woman without a single problem in the world. I had problems but none of them felt important just then. Everything felt manageable.
Becca made a sound. I turned to see her staring at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She looked out at the water. Sipped her coffee. Looked back at me. “You’re glowing.”
I snorted. “That’s such a dumb thing to say. People don’t glow.”
“You do. Your cheeks are pink.”
“It’s the morning air,” I said. “I just told you. It’s exceptional today.”
“Uh-huh.” She took another sip of her coffee. “So, what happened after I went to bed last night?”
I looked at the ocean. “Nothing.”
She snorted, expressing her disbelief.
“Nothing happened,” I said. “We sat by the fire. Dad went home. I went in. Went to sleep.” I gestured vaguely. “A normal night.”
Silence.
I could feel her looking at the side of my face. She knew me way too well for me to offer up such an obvious lie.
“Sum-mer.”
“Bec-ca.”
“There is a broken piece of lattice on the south side of the house,” she said pleasantly. “And I swear I saw a man running across the yard carrying his shoes.”
I said nothing. I pressed my lips together and stared very hard at a bird gliding above the water.
“The coffee really is exceptional today,” I said.
She started laughing. “He climbed the lattice,” she said.
“Keep your voice down.”
“You guys act like teenagers.” She laughed.
I couldn’t stop the laughter that burst from my chest. I had been holding in that laugh since he knocked on my window. It had taken monumental strength not to explode with laughter last night watching him struggle.
“He got stuck in the window,” I managed.
“No.”
“He fell through and knocked the picture off the wall.” I couldn’t stop laughing as I replayed it all in my head. “Poor guy probably has bruises. He got stuck halfway in, so I pulled on him. Hard. He fell on the floor.”