He’s smiling and looking at me the way he used to. Like ten years of separation weren’t real. “Welcome back to the world.”
I brace myself in the doorjamb and look up and down the hall. Nothing’s different, but I feel like I’m seeing it differently. Like the house isn’t some reflection of my past but maybe a shadow of my future.
“Well, at least back to the hallway.” I smile back and take my first step out of the bedroom.
Torrin backs up to give me some space and waits. “Ready for your surprise?”
“I didn’t just ward off a panic attack for nothing.”
He waves down the hall. “Good. Then close your eyes and let’s get going.”
“Wait. No one said anything about closing my eyes.”
“Why do I feel like you’re still failing to understand the definition of a surprise?”
“Why do I feel like you’re still failing to take no for an answer to anything?” I sigh and close my eyes.
“Promise they’re closed?”
I feel his hand whipping right in front of my eyes, checking. “Promise.”
I hear some rustling. I have no idea what’s making it, but it’s coming from Torrin’s direction.
“Is this going to be anything like the last surprise you walked me to with my eyes closed?” I ask.
More rustling. “If you’re referring to the disaster known as The Night I Tried to Cook Dinner for You, then no. Hopefully nothing like that.” His voice is muffled for a few words, but it clears.
“What are you talking about? That was the best overcooked chicken and undercooked pasta I’d ever had.”
“Yeah, chicken marsala might have been a bit ambitious for a guy who hadn’t mastered the toasting of bread yet.”
My laugh chimes down the hall. It feels so good I just don’t want it to stop. I don’t want to stop smiling and laughing, because maybe, one day, they’ll outweigh the tears and sadness and I’ll remember what it feels like to just live . . . instead of feeling like I’m practicing for life.
Torrin comes up behind me and holds the side of my arm. I’m expecting his other hand to wrap around my other arm when his hand slides over my eyes.
“You peek,” he says like he’s defending himself.
I don’t argue, because he’s right. Even now, I can feel my eyelashes fluttering against his hand as I fight to keep my eyes closed.
When I feel him move, I move with him. He stays close, his hands on me, guiding me. Even though by my vision’s measure, it’s dark, it doesn’t seep in the way I’m used to. It can’t find the door to let itself in.
We move down the hall, and it’s not long before we’re rolling to a stop. I hear a door open, Torrin guides me a couple more steps forward, then his hands drop away. He doesn’t tell me I can open my eyes, but I open them anyway. I have to glance behind me to make sure we’re still in the same hall and didn’t take some wrong turn into a wormhole.
I think this room used to be Sam’s, but it doesn’t look like it. At all.
Torrin shoulders up beside me and motions at the room. “You missed the beach. I brought you the beach.”
My eyes haven’t taken in a quarter of the room before my hand finds his. Tying my fingers through his warm hand, I give it a squeeze of thanks. He replies with a longer squeeze.
I try to take in the rest of the room, but there’s too much to see. Too much I don’t want to miss. Heat lamps are positioned around the room, radiating down at us, and a couple of fans are spinning at a low setting, creating a warm breeze that rolls over my body in a familiar way. If I close my eyes, I could be standing on the beach on a warm summer day.
The room’s been emptied of all guest room furniture, and replacing it is one of those hard plastic kiddie pools filled with water that’s been dyed blue. A beige tarp’s been laid out behind the pool, taking up most of the room, and it’s covered in what looks like sand. Real sand. Buckets of it. I have to move closer to see if it’s real or just some mirage.
I skim my bare foot through it and discover it’s the real stuff. It’s warm on top and everything from the heat lamps.
Brightly colored buckets and shovels are stationed around the sand, and there’s even a small floating kite that’s been tied to one of the fans. The sound of waves crashing and seagulls chortling echoes around the room.
It’s the beach. Two doors down from my room.
“Did you do this?” I wander farther in, closing my eyes at the way the sand feels on my feet. The way it gives when I walk, leaving footprints behind to remind me I was there.
He hovers behind, letting me explore on my own. “Your family helped too. All of them.”
That would explain all of the footsteps I kept hearing. “Everyone?”
“Well, your dad helped by not throwing me out of the house like I know he wanted to.”
I twist around in the sand, burying my feet in a little deeper. I’m surprised when I see him because when he helped open my door, he was in the black-and-white priest outfit I’m used to seeing him in. He isn’t anymore.
So I can guess what the rustling sounds were caused by. “Did you seriously just strip in the hallway?” I motion at his swim trunks and faded hoodie he’s thrown on.
“Why? Should I not have?”
“Not if you don’t want everyone to think there’s a naked priest running around the top floor.”