Pack Up the Moon

by Rachael Herron

  But then there she was. Kate was walking down a short dock. A man, his face turned toward the water, was behind her. Nolan. Pree felt her throat muscles tighten and pulled into a parking spot.

  Kate waved when she saw her. Nolan smiled. He had a black eye that went from his temple down to the middle of his cheek. Pree wanted to ask about it, but she felt tongue-tied. She hid her hands inside her dress pockets. Kate held a brown Trader Joe’s bag with one hand and pushed her windblown curls out of her face with the other. Pree could have told her it was no use—her own curls were already halfway to dreads. Once they’d all said hello, she pulled an elastic band out of her backpack and snapped it around her hair.

  “Do you happen to have another of those?” Kate asked.

  She dug in her pocket and handed one over. It was silly and minor, but it felt intimate somehow, giving Kate the hair band.

  “We’re waiting for that one.” Kate pointed at a blue sailboat slowly scudding under motor power through the gray water. Pree nudged the rubber bumper on the dock with the edge of her sneaker. Then she noticed Nolan was doing the same thing on the other side of Kate, so she stopped.

  “What’s that?” she said, pointing, trying to fill the spaces in the awkwardness.

  “Oh,” said Kate. She looked down. Her face twisted.

  “Shit,” Pree said, getting it. Really? A Trader Joe’s bag?

  Kate’s words were rushed. “They’re in nice boxes, I promise. Mom’s is walnut, and Robin’s is cedar. I just needed some way to carry them . . .”

  “Shit,” Pree said again. Nothing else really seemed appropriate.

  And then Nolan laughed, the reverberation deep in his chest. The air turned brighter and Pree didn’t want to hurl herself in the water anymore.

  As the sailboat moored, bumping the rubber guards with a hollow sound, the fog thinned and a skinny beam of sunlight touched the edge of the dock. Brian, the guy driving the boat, looked like he was born to do nothing more than tool a boat around the bay, pulling up fish as he went. He was a little scruffy and maybe thirty-five. Pree shoved her hands into her pockets and listened to him tell them where to stand and, more important, where not to stand. Brian showed them the ropes—literally—and told them he might ask them for help. At any minute Pree was going to screw it up by getting knocked overboard by something sail related. She told herself to duck whenever anything at all happened.

  This whole stupid thing was too romantic an idea. When she’d woken up that morning, she’d thought it might be cool, going to sea to bury the brother she never knew. And hey, she might turn out to be a born sailor. Maybe she’d find out she was meant to live someday on a boat in a ramshackle marina somewhere. Alone, except for one of those boat cats that prowled around the bow.

  But Pree quickly learned that the motion of the boat didn’t agree with either her or her condition. From the dock, the water had looked flat, but in reality it was pocked and marred by tiny waves that instantly made her want to hurl. She took a deep breath through her mouth and told herself to hang the fuck on. Mind over matter.

  Brian aimed the boat toward Alcatraz. “We’ll take the scenic route. Maybe see some harbor porpoises. They were hanging out near Angel Island earlier this morning.” He said it as if they were tourists at Pier 39 or something, as if they’d come for the view. But Kate and Nolan nodded along and looked as if there were nothing more interesting than perhaps getting to see some marine wildlife. Then Kate disappeared into the underneath part of the boat. Belowdecks, Brian had called it. Pree followed her. Maybe it was smoother down there.

  Kate stood behind a tiny counter, the two wooden boxes in front of her. She looked up when Pree clattered down the stairs, and half smiled.

  “You all right?” Kate said.

  “Sure.” Pree wasn’t. She scoped out where the bathroom was—she could make it if she needed to. Knowing that calmed her stomach for a minute. “Are you all right?”

  Kate pressed her fingers one by one against the countertop. “I guess when I booked the boat I didn’t expect it to be so . . . real.”

  The boat lurched and both Pree and Kate toppled to the left. One box slid to the edge of the counter—Pree caught it the second before it went airborne. It was surprisingly heavy. Kate took it, propping her hip against the counter for stability.

  “I’m sorry,” Pree said.

  “For what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I guess, for all of this. That you have to go through.” A tiny part of her felt an odd guilt for not being there for Kate when Robin died. Not that she’d had a choice in it. But the guilt remained, small and uncomfortable.

  “Oh.” Kate shrugged. “I’ve done a lot of the going-through already. This is just . . . punctuation.”

  Pree stared at the lighter-colored box.

  “That’s Robin,” Kate said. “I mean . . . you know.”

  She wanted to see inside, and at the same time she didn’t. “Do you throw the whole box?”

  Kate shook her head. “Not encouraged. You just shake out the ashes. You’re not even supposed to do that—bad for the bay and all—but we’re not asking permission. See?” She took the lid off and inside was a clear plastic bag, like the kind you put vegetables in at the grocery store. It was even sealed closed with a twist tie. Inside was gray dust that looked, from the outside, like the clay Pree had used in college during her pottery phase.

  “I just have to . . .” Kate undid the tie and peered in. She took a small ziplock bag from her pocket. Turning it inside out, she put her hand inside, as if to pick up dog poop. Then she reached into the bigger bag and took a handful. She flipped the plastic bag as if it were something she did every day and sealed it. Tucking it back into her front pocket, she gave Pree a quick look. The boat swayed again, and Pree wasn’t sure what made her feel more sick, the rolling of the boat that made her knees feel like they were made of Silly Putty or the idea that Kate had just stuck her hand into Robin’s ashes and put them in her pocket.

  Pree barely made it to the bathroom in time. It was harder than she would have thought, wearing a life jacket and puking in a tiny little toilet while pitching back and forth. When she came back out, Kate was leaning forward, whispering urgently to Nolan. The noise of the boat slapping through the water masked whatever it was she was saying, but Nolan looked up, and his face was transparently guilty. His hand had been resting on top of Kate’s, and he pulled it back as if he’d touched an iron.

  It reminded Pree acutely of a picture at home that Marta kept in the living room, framed, on the wall next to all her school portraits. The wall of shame, Pree called it, and she hated almost every single photo. But even she could see the humor in this one: in it Pree was sitting in her cow pajamas not next to but under the Christmas tree. She was lit harshly by the flashbulb and she was completely caught: the partially unwrapped box still in her lap, one hand on the toe of her new Rollerblades. She looked guiltier than anything.

  Nolan had that exact look on his face.

  Like, the exact look. Pree couldn’t quite figure it out. She could almost get it, but then she shied away. “I should go back up . . .”

  “Pree,” said Kate. “I have to tell you something.” Looking terrified, she gripped a brass railing affixed to the wall.

  “No, that’s okay. Thanks anyway,” Pree said, as if Kate had asked her if she wanted a snack. No, no chips for me. I’ll pass on the chocolate milk.

  “He’s your father.”

  It all came together in one bright flash, as if Isi’s camera had flashed again the way it had that Christmas morning.

  “Nolan’s your biological father. I should have told you that right off. I know that, and I’m sorry.”

  He stepped forward, and Pree ducked back into a tiny alcove next to the head. “No, no. Don’t.”

  “He just found out, too. Yesterday,” said Kate.

  “I don’t understand,” Pree said. She felt so stupid. And she couldn’t get away. She was on a fucking boat with no w
ay off. “What about Greg Jenkins?”

  “It was Nolan.”

  “You lied.”

  “Yes,” said Kate miserably.

  “I don’t— Why?”

  “I was scared. I’d been so scared—”

  “Did you just want to keep me for yourself or something?” She walked past both of them to the bottom of the stairs, where she held on to the railing with all her strength. “Because you didn’t want to share?”

  She saw the truth of it reflected in Kate’s eyes. And there was a tiny, shameful part of herself that liked it—that liked that Kate wanted her so much she didn’t want to share her with anyone.

  But Kate had shared Pree right out of her life twenty-two years ago, hadn’t she?

  “Pree, that’s not it,” started Nolan. He was holding the rail next to the sink as if the boat were going over twenty-foot waves.

  “Did Kate tell you I’m pregnant?”

  It was Nolan’s turn to look shocked. He shook his head dumbly.

  Pree started up the stairs. “Like mother, like daughter, I guess.” She wanted one of them to stop her. But neither of them did.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Saturday, May 17, 2014

  11 a.m.

  If anything, Kate should have been scared of flying. On planes, she should have gripped her armrests and prayed to a God she didn’t understand while soaring through the clouds. But she didn’t. She loved flying. It was always water she’d been scared of without a good reason. And now there were so many reasons to hate being on this boat, to hate being this terrified.

  “This was your idea, you know,” said Nolan. He still had that ability to read her.

  She ignored him and went up the steps.

  The closer they got to the Golden Gate Bridge, the windier it became. Brian had told her on the phone that the best place to dump ashes was in the ocean, outside the bay, but she was worried that it would be even rougher. If Pree had been sick on the little wavelets, what would happen out there?

  Brian stood with his hand resting lightly on the wheel. His legs were planted far apart and he gazed straight ahead. He didn’t acknowledge her. He was obviously accustomed to these trips of grief, used to pretending he wasn’t there. Kate was grateful.

  Pree sat at the bow, her legs slung over the edge, her arms wrapped around the rail in front of her, watching Alcatraz glide past to her right.

  Kate stopped, unable to move forward or back. She held the rail but only lightly. Ironically, her legs seemed to take to this—she swayed from her kneecaps as if she’d been on boats all her life.

  Brian looked at her over his sunglasses and blinked. The skin of his eyelids was pale in contrast to the rest of his face. Then he looked past her to Pree. “Hey, you wanna steer the boat?”

  Pree turned her head. “Me? No.”

  “Come on.”

  “No way. I’d put us on those rocks.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “No.” Pree was firm. “Never.”

  “You don’t want to be able to say that you steered a sailboat under the Golden Gate? You won’t regret that someday?”

  Kate saw Pree bite her lip.

  Come on, Pree.

  “Show me,” Pree said, standing.

  Brian put her hands on the wheel and stayed next to her. “That’s right,” he said. “You’re a natural.”

  Pree looked jittery. “But how do I avoid the legs of the bridge? They’re huge.”

  “Same as you avoid things in a car. Just think your way there. Watch with your eyes—your hands already know how to do it.”

  Pree narrowed her eyes the same way Nolan did when he was concentrating. The boat’s sail guttered as the wind shifted.

  “What do I do?”

  “To the left a little,” said Brian calmly. The sail filled again and they darted forward. “Yeah, good.”

  Kate felt, rather than saw, Nolan come up the stairs behind her. He put his hand, as he always had, on the small of her back to tell her he was there, and she tucked her body into his, the top of her shoulder fitting exactly under his arm. She stayed in the lee of his arms for the space of two breaths, long enough to fill her lungs with courage. Then she stepped out. She wanted to feel the wind. Still moving easily even though the boat bucked, she took Pree’s abandoned place at the bow.

  She threaded her legs under the rail, letting them hang in the air. The salt spray dampened her jeans and Brian warned her that her feet might get wet. One part of her cared—her feet should not be getting that close to the water, period. The other part of her exulted in the salt and wind hitting her face, the slap and clank of the sails above her.

  The Golden Gate drew closer, and Kate risked a backward glance. Pree’s face was as bright as the sun glinting on the waves. As the sailboat glided under the steel girders, the cars thumping far overheard, Pree barely glanced up. She appeared transfixed by the water in front of her. Behind her, Nolan looked just as transfixed by Pree.

  As well he should be. Pree was remarkable. A sense of pride surged through her, as misplaced and strong an emotion as she’d ever had.

  The boat sailed into open waters. They could sail due west for days, weeks, and not run into anything until they hit Japan, just as Robin had always said. It was dizzying, and Kate held the rail tighter. The swells were different here, wider somehow, more spaced apart. While earlier the boat had jogged like a trotting horse, now it swayed like an enormous rocking chair.

  “I’m done,” said Pree. “That’s all I need. Can you do it now?”

  Brian took the wheel. “I’ll take her out a ways and then we can heave to. Rest for a while. Do our thing.”

  Kate considered what “our thing” meant and thought about the small boxes belowdecks. A boat with bright green sails came into view around the curve of the Marin headland, and she wondered what the people on board were doing. Drinking champagne and toasting a celebration? Or dumping loved ones over the rails also?

  She expected Pree to go sit in the back, away from her, but instead she swung forward, gripping the rope and dropping onto the edge next to her. Nolan sat next to Kate on the other side. If she reached out, she could touch them both at the same time.

  “I fucked up,” Kate said, her voice loud enough to reach both Pree and Nolan. It probably reached farther, over the slapping waves back to Brian. She didn’t care. “What I did, I just fucked it all up. I should have told Nolan about you when I got back together with him so long ago. I should have told you about him, Pree, the first time you asked. I’ve had secrets locked so long inside that I’d forgotten how to open that part.”

  Kate would lose them both because of this. She knew it. This morning with Nolan had been a mirage. Whatever she might have had with Pree was evaporating into salt mist in front of her, and it was her fault. She held the cold metal so tightly her thumbs went numb. She had to keep being brave until she was alone again.

  Pree faced away from her, toward the open ocean. “How was I supposed to figure anything out if I didn’t know my past? Where I came from?”

  “Easy,” said Kate lightly, motioning with her head toward the land behind them. “You came from them. Isi and Marta.”

  A pause. Then Pree said, “Robin’s dead.”

  The words sounded worse coming from Pree. Kate closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the railing. It was cold and smelled of steel.

  Pree continued, “I’m the only real link you have left to him. You’re not related to each other by blood, but both of you are related to me. That’s your connection. To him and to each other. You need me. But I still don’t get why . . .”

  Kate looked at Pree. She wanted to touch her, rest her hand on her arm, but she didn’t want to risk chasing her away. “I missed you every day that I didn’t see you. There wasn’t a moment that you weren’t part of my life.”

  “Bullshit.” But Pree’s word was weak and got lost in the spray.

  The sailboat turned slowly, heading west and then south.
The Golden Gate was farther away than Kate had realized. The only noise was the splashing of the water against the hull and the creaking of the sails overhead. Kate knew she had to speak, but she didn’t have a clue what to say.

  Pree was the one to finally break the silence. “And you kept him from me. What were you thinking, Kate? Yesterday, I was just hanging out with you guys, and he’s my father? And you knew?”

  “I’m sorry.” Weak, tiny words, so impotent in the face of Pree’s sorrow.

  “Were you worried I couldn’t be trusted or something? Oh, maybe you’re right. Maybe I would have asked why he killed my brother, the one I never got to meet.”

  Nolan blinked once slowly and the color drained from his face.

  “Pree.”

  “What? I just found out half my genes are his. You think I’m not a little worried? That I have the genetic marker of a suicidal killer? Maybe it’s hereditary, the whole not being able to take care of anything. Good thing I don’t want this kid.” Her nose was pink and her eyes were wet. Kate couldn’t tell if she was crying or windblown.

  Nolan stuffed his hands in his pockets. His lips pressed thinly together.

  “Robin was sick,” Kate said. “Really sick. Don’t be mad at him. Be mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad at either of you. Or maybe I am. Maybe I’m going to be. I’m just confused—don’t you get that?” Pree covered her belly with her hands.

  No one spoke then. Kate wished she knew the right thing to say, but she suspected it didn’t exist. Everything was wrong. Everything. Again.

  They sailed another ten minutes until Brian judged they were at a good spot to stop. He turned the boat just off the wind and luffed the mainsail. He turned the tiller in the opposite direction, and the boat went still in the water. Behind them, the ocean was clear, calmer this far out.

  It was time.

  Kate retrieved the boxes from below. She felt a solid clunk inside, as if she were grinding gears, going from forward to reverse too suddenly. But she kept moving, up the stairs back onto the deck, her legs still working easily with the sway of the boat. It was quiet now without the flapping of the sail. Small waves splashed at the side of the boat, and two pieces of metal clanked overhead.