Page 33 (1/2)

"You should be sorry," I say sternly to To on the other side of the worn green couch that will be Finn’s bed And then I hurl the sock back to hirins and whips it without pause to Beech, who loses it to the dog To after the collie as she leads hi I findwhat drives To of Gabe or the sulkiness of Beech I’ve never seen him when he doesn’t seem perfectly content, perfectly a part of island life On the floor, Tooes to all of us, even the dog again, until Finn says, "Where’s Gabe?" and we realize that he hasn’t come out of the kitchen

I start toward the kitchen, but Too"

He peers around the door frame and I can’t hear what he says Then he turns back to us, and he has a smile pinned on for us "Good news Food’s done" Gabe appears in the doorway beside hie a look that infuriates e ofappears and addresses all of us "If you want it, you have to serve yourself And if you don’t like it, blame Tom He did it"

There’s not much conversation as we eat --the events of the evening But it’s a quiet without deh to make itself known and it’s easy to pretend that we’re just over for a social visit The only ti Gratton addresses ive Dove ht, before the storht about the storo to bed, the wind has beco the panes The sheets on the bed are clean but the room still smells like Beech, who shts, I see that there are no personal effects in the roo to say that it is Beech’s Just this bed and an austere desk with an empty vase and some coins on it, and a narrow dresser orn corners I wonder if there used to be more of Beech here, but he packed it all away to take with him to the mainland

I consider this as I try to sleep I lie on one side of the bed and Gabe lies on the other, but it’s a twin bed, so the two sides are really one side, and his elbow is kind of in ainstGabe here makes it war doesn’t sound like he’s sleeping, either

For a longto the rain on the roof, and I think about the broken fence back ho, long black face looking into the lean-to

Because I’, without a lick of tact to o down easier

"Why did you co, my voice is loud in the little bedroo "Honestly, Puck, why do you think?"

"What does it nant "What kind of a question is that?"

"Why are you answering all of my questions with other questions?"

Gabe tries to shift to put space between us, but there’s no roans and creaks like a ship at sea, only the sea is the bare floor of Beech’s ham-scented room "I don’t understand what you wanthysterical, so I measure my words out, careful and slow "I want to knohy you care about us nohen next year you’ll be gone and we could both be eaten in October and you’ll be off on the h heavily "It’s not like I want to leave you two behind"

I hate myself for the little flutter of hope that I feel when he says it But it’s true that I i that he’s changed his mind as he embraces Finn and Dove and me at once I say, "Then don’t Just stay"

"I can’t"

"Why not?"

"I just can’t"

It’s the most we’ve spoken in a week and I wonder if I should just let it go at that I i the bedclothes fro fro Only, if he wanted to escape, he’d have to cross the bodies of Tommy Falk and Beech Gratton on theover the couch with Finn on it and then sit by himself in the dark kitchen, and I don’t think he’ll do that

So I say, "That’s not a real reason"

For longin and out, in and out Then he says, in a strange, thin voice, "I can’t bear it anyrateful for this honesty that I don’t knohat to think I struggle to think of a good question, a question that will keep hi like this It’s like the truth is a bird that I’ away "What can’t you bear?"

"This island," Gabe says He breathes a long pause between every word he says "That house you and Finn are in People talking The fish -- goddamn fish, I’ll s I can’t do it anymore"

He sounds miserable, but he didn’t look miserable earlier, ere all in the kitchen, ere perched all over the sitting roo that he said are things that I love about the island, except forelse But I don’t know if that’s a good enough reason to leave everything behind and start over

It feels like he’s confessed that he’s dying of a disease I’ve never heard of, with syness of it, the way it won’t fit in ain, as if I’ve only just learned about it