“I have news,” she says.
I sit up. Good news? Bad news? I can’t tell.
“People have started going back to Seagate to assess the damage,” she tells me.
“And?”
She puts the grocery bags on the table and sits down next to me. “It’s bad, but not as bad as we feared.”
“What do you mean?”
“The stadium needs a new roof. And the community pool has extensive damage,” she says. “Some houses had first-floor flooding, but only the ones on the ferry side of the island.”
“What are those people going to do?”
“They can stay upstairs while the first floors are being repaired,” she says. “I haven’t heard of any houses that are unlivable.”
“This is great news!” I stand up. “Right?”
Sighing, she says, “Yes, it’s good news. It could have been much, much worse.”
“Nobody lost their homes. That’s huge!”
She nods.
“And we can go back to Seagate?”
She hesitates. “Dad and I are still discussing that. There’s lots of damage to be cleaned up. Fallen trees, buildings that might be in danger of collapsing. We’re still not sure if it’s the best thing to do.”
“Mom,” I plead, “we need to help clean it up. Isn’t that obvious?”
She smiles. “We’re going to think about it.”
That’s the best answer I’m going to get.
Micayla and her family go back to Seagate first. The year-rounders and business owners need time to get things up and running and secure their homes.
Micayla’s house sustained minimal damage, mostly to the front porch. It’s sad, because I love Micayla’s porch—it wraps almost all the way around the house. But it could have been so much worse. Again and again, I hear my mom saying to people: We were so lucky.
She’s right. But it all still feels sad to me. I discovered that you can be grateful and sad at the same time. I guess I never knew that was possible.
Even though Claire and Calvin and I have been texting, I’ve been avoiding calling them. Not because I don’t want to talk, but because I’m nervous, I guess. I’m nervous because Claire and I ended our last encounter on an angry note. And I’m nervous that Calvin might have forgotten that he even liked me in the first place. But after the fourth day at home, I’m so bored and lonely that I can’t resist calling their landline, though I’m afraid Calvin could answer.
Thankfully, he doesn’t.
“Hey, hey,” Claire answers after the first ring.
“Hi, it’s Remy, but I guess you know that. You have caller ID, I’m sure.” Nervous laugh. “What’s up?”
“Well,” she begins, “Calvin’s throwing a basketball off the roof of the house, and it’s unbelievably annoying. My grandfather’s snoring in the living room. My mom is on a business call. And I’m talking to you.” She pauses. “That’s what’s up.”
“Wow,” I say. I tell her about Micayla’s family going back to Seagate. “You guys are coming back, too, right?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “My grandfather and my mom want us to, but my dad is trying to get Calvin and me to come to Manhattan.”
“Oh, right.” I put my feet up on the coffee table. “How’s that situation going?”
She’s silent for so long, I think that the call has dropped. But no, she’s still on the other end of the phone. She’s crying.
“Claire, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You sounded so—”
“It’s weird without him here,” she says. “It’s weird being in the den and seeing the armchair he’d sit in; it’s always empty now. And his seat at the kitchen table. The mugs he’d use for his coffee. It feels so lonely.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
I imagine how I’d feel if this happened to me. I’d feel terrible. I think about the newspaper; it would come every morning, but Dad wouldn’t be there to rush to read it.
Claire changes the subject. “I should totally feel grossed out by you, because you have a crush on my brother.” She hesitates. “And I do feel uneasy about it. But—and don’t get all mushy about this—you’re the best listener I know. I can’t stay mad at you.”
“Thanks,” I say. I know how hard it is for Claire to be sweet sometimes.
“I need you, Remy,” she says. “When we had to leave Seagate in such a hurry and you weren’t responding to texts or answering your phone, I felt awful. I realized what a good friend you are. You listen to me babble and cry. And I know that I was no fun to be around this summer.”
I stop her. “Claire, come on.”
“I guess it’s okay that you like my brother, even though it’s weird, as long as you promise to still be my friend, too. Okay?”
“It’s a deal,” I say. “But you have to promise me that you’ll come back to Seagate. I’m pretty sure we’re going, even though my parents haven’t officially told me yet. They’ll need to check on the house anyway.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Claire says.
When my phone rings five minutes later, and I see that it’s Claire’s number, I get excited. She must have already found out they can go back to Seagate. That was easy.
“Hey, so what ferry are you taking?” I ask.
“What?”
“Claire?”
It’s not Claire. It’s Calvin.
“Oh, hi.”
My heart races. Like it’s running a marathon.
I ask, “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says hesitantly. “How are you?”
The only boy I’ve ever talked to on the phone is Bennett. And half the time we were playing Twenty Questions or Would You Rather or Truth or Dare. But now I’m on the phone and Calvin’s on the other end. I don’t know what to do.
“I’m good. Bored,” I admit. “I really want to go back to Seagate. I miss it so much. I miss the dogs.” I pause and realize I’m pretty much just saying anything that pops into my head. “I miss you, um, I miss you guys, too.”
He says, “I want to go back. My grandpa will need help cleaning up his house and the yard and stuff. And there’s nothing for us to do in Westchester.”
“Tell me about it,” I say. “I’m here now. For the city that never sleeps, it feels pretty sleepy.”
“Let’s FaceTime,” he says with a little more pep in his voice. “I want to see your room.”
“Really?” I ask. “It’s nothing special. And it’s kind of messy.”
What I don’t want to tell him is how disheveled my hair looks and that I’m still in my pajama shorts and T-shirt.
“Yeah. I don’t care if it’s messy. You can give me a tour of your apartment.” He pauses. “It can be kind of like our first date. I mean, like, ya know, a phone date.”
I didn’t expect him to say something like that. But I think it’s a good sign. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten about liking me.
Soon he appears on my phone. He’s there. Right there. Sitting on a leather couch, wearing a backward baseball cap.
I take him on a tour. It doesn’t last very long. Kitchen. Main room. My room. My parents’ room. Bathroom. Hallway. Done.
“That’s it,” I say. “I’m going to have a muffin. Care to join me?”
He laughs. “Sure. I’ll pretend I’m sharing the muffin with you at Mornings. Not banana, right?”
“Nope. Blueberry.”
“I hate banana muffins,” he tells me.
“I’ll never make you eat a banana muffin over the phone,” I declare. “So no worries on that front.”
I slice the muffin. “Here. Two pieces.” I show him. When I look back at the phone, I realize he’s switched places. He’s in his room now. Maybe he needed more privacy.
I see a plaid comforter. An old desktop computer. Trophies on a shelf. A framed kindergarten diploma.
Looks like a pretty average room to me.
Calvin sits on his bed. His face is gl
oomy all of a sudden. Something has changed.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and then I regret it.
“You already asked me that.”
We were having so much fun, and then something happened. I don’t know what it is.
“Right. Sorry.” I take teeny-tiny bites of my muffin.
Calvin takes me on a tour of his room.
And then more silence. I think we’ve run out of things to say already, and that makes me nervous.
I can’t handle the silence anymore, so I start talking about the storm, what’s left of Seagate, what the dogs might be doing. “Without seeing it for myself, I’m worried, you know?”
He nods but stays quiet.
“Do you know what I mean?” I ask. I could be talking to a door right now and it would be more satisfying.
“I do,” he says quietly after what feels like a decade. There’s another long silence. But then he starts talking. And he keeps going. “I know how you feel. You’re trying to cling to something as tightly as you possibly can. But sometimes you can cling so tightly to something that it all just crumbles apart.” He looks at me, tight-lipped. “Like that muffin. If you pick it up gently, it will stay together. If you pick it up and squeeze it, it’s just a handful of crumbs.”
I jump in. “Crumbs can still be delicious.”
“Sure. If that’s all you have,” he answers. “But a whole muffin is way better. Isn’t it?”
I nod.
“What I’m saying is that you’re clinging to a Seagate summer too tightly,” he tells me. “Your Seagate summer is a bunch of messy crumbs now.”
“I see.” I look down at my half-eaten muffin and realize I don’t feel hungry anymore.
“I only know this because I’ve done the same thing,” he says under his breath. He rubs his eyes, and I’m not sure if he’s about to cry.
“What do you mean?”
“I tried to cling to my parents being together. I’d remind them of the fun things we did, how great everything was,” he says. “I’d list things we had to look forward to as a family. I’d bring up memories and try to get them to reminisce.”
“You did all that?” I ask. Marilyn Monroe jumps up onto my lap. She suddenly seems interested in this conversation, too. I guess she could hear Calvin’s voice from the other room.
“Yes. I was always saying things like We had so much fun that day, like I needed to remind them of the good times. Because I didn’t want to face that our family was broken.”
I put down the piece of muffin. That may be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.
“So believe me, I know about clinging to things,” he says. “You think Claire’s the only one who’s upset and taking this hard? I am, too. In my own way.”
“I know that,” I say softly.
“But clinging to things doesn’t make them stay. Because you’re not in control. Sometimes things slip away from us, and we can’t do anything about it. Just like the hurricane blew away parts of Seagate Island.”
“I know that, too,” I mumble.
I’m about to say something about Seagate and the storm when I realize we’re not talking about that anymore. We’re talking about Calvin and his family. He’s opening up and telling me how he feels. I want him to keep sharing.
“There’s nothing wrong with remembering the good stuff sometimes. It helps us get through the bad.”
He nods. There’s a glimmer in his eye, a glimmer of appreciation that he knows I understand him. He seems happy to get these thoughts off his chest.
We talk for thirty-seven minutes. That may be a record for FaceTime—a record for me, at least.
“I gotta go,” Calvin tells me. “My mom needs help bringing in the groceries.”
“I hope she didn’t buy too much. Hopefully you’ll be back on Seagate before you have time to eat all of it.”
“If I have to eat all of it in a day, then, I will.” He laughs. “Whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes,” I repeat.
When I come into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning, banana-walnut pancakes are waiting for me at the table. Also, a tall glass of fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice and a bowl of strawberries.
This can’t be good. I mean, it will be delicious, but I don’t think good news is coming. I think this is my parents’ way of buttering me up, only to let me down easy.
“What’s this?” I ask them. They’re sitting across from each other, reading sections of the New York Times and drinking coffee.
My mom looks up from the paper. “Just breakfast.” She smiles. “Sleep well?”
I nod. I don’t believe her. It’s definitely not just breakfast. Just breakfast is an English muffin with jelly. Or a bowl of Cheerios.
I’m only halfway done syruping my pancakes when my dad puts down the newspaper and starts talking. “Remy, we’ve been thinking it over. And we’re not sure going back to Seagate right now is the best plan.”
I knew it.
He continues. “There’s a lot of damage around the house, and there was some flooding on the first floor. We’re trying to schedule workers to come out.” He pauses, as if it’s painful for him to say all this. “Right now it’s not the Seagate you know and love.”
I put down my fork, and it clinks against the plate.
“Are you listening to yourself?” I ask. “This is Seagate Island. Our other home. Our community. We can’t just abandon it because it’s had a rough time, can we?”
My mom and dad look at each other.
“It’s a tough call,” my mom admits. “But the Seagate Community Council isn’t encouraging people to come back right away.”
“But Seagate needs our help! Not going back would be like ignoring Aunt Evelyn just because she can’t walk like she used to,” I explain. “Or giving up on a hard subject in school instead of trying to get better at it.”
They consider that for a second but then continue explaining how there’s going to be a lot of cleanup to do if we go back. It’s not going to be carefree, the way it was before.
“I don’t care,” I say. “I’ll help clean up as much as I can. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“She has a point,” my mom tells my dad.
He sighs. “I’ll think about it.”
My dad takes his plate and his coffee mug and puts them in the dishwasher. “I need to go to the office for a little while. Let’s put this conversation on hold for now, okay?”
“Okay,” I reluctantly reply.
I soak my pancake in the syrup that’s pooling on the side of the plate and take the biggest bite I can. At least he didn’t say no.
Either I’m really good at convincing people, or my parents can be worn down very easily. Hard to say for sure. But let’s just put it this way: we’re going back to Seagate!
We’re on the ferry, and I keep thinking about how I felt the last time we were on our way to the island. I was filled with anticipation, and with a sense of not knowing what the summer would hold.
But it’s different now. While we might not know exactly what’s in store for us there, we know that Seagate will be different, and we’ll have a lot of hard work to do to fix things up. But we aren’t running away from that scary stuff; we’re running right toward it.
The ferry is quiet, the mood of the passengers somber yet hopeful. People are chatting, discussing the storm, sharing stories, dispelling rumors. Someone thought the roof of Sundae Best had caved in. Not true, thank goodness!
We get off the boat, and I see Micayla right away.
I expect her to be her usual cheerful self, but something’s different about her. She hardly smiles as she sees me and hugs me. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. “It’s been so lonely.”
And just like that, a gobstopper-sized lump forms in my throat.
My parents scoop up Marilyn Monroe and tell me to take my time with Micayla, that they’ll meet me back at the house later. Maybe they want to assess the damage without me there. I’m not sure. But I’m
grateful for some time alone with Micayla.
“It’s like a ghost island now,” she says. “I keep seeing you places, but you’re not there. Not even Calvin and Claire are here. No Mason. No one.”
“I’m here now,” I remind her.
“I know. Thank God.” She chews her pinkie nail for a second and then says, “I can’t believe we got into a stupid fight over a boy. Over Bennett.”
“Yeah, let’s never do that again,” I say.
We walk down Main Street, and we see the damage everywhere. Trees that used to stand tall and proud have fallen over, lying on their sides, as if they’ve given up.
Part of the stadium roof caved in and is now covered with blue tarp. The grills and picnic tables have been removed. The beach has eroded.
Only a few of the restaurants have opened back up. Mornings. Frederick’s Fish. Pastrami on Rye. That’s it.
Mr. Aprone hasn’t come back yet, so Novel Ideas is still boarded up. Same with Sundae Best.
Micayla’s right. It is a ghost island. Maybe I should have listened to my parents. Maybe we should have stayed home. Maybe dealing with the reality of this new Seagate will be too hard.
“So what’s gonna happen now?” I ask her.
“Well, cleanup crews are here.” She half shrugs. “That’s what my dad said. But we can all pitch in with certain stuff, like cleaning up the beach.”
My heart perks up. “That sounds good. Let’s do that.”
I’m happy that we have a plan.
“The school had some damage, too,” Micayla tells me. “So I think it’ll be a priority to fix that up so we’ll be able to start classes on time in the fall.”
I nod. We walk down to the beach and sit on the Adirondack chairs on the boardwalk. At least the Adirondack chairs are back. Seagate Island without Adirondack chairs is like a sundae without whipped cream, or a campfire without s’mores.
We look out at the ocean together, and for that instant, it feels as if my problems are so tiny that they don’t even exist. I feel so lucky for everything I have. The sea is so vast that it makes me feel very small. Like I’m just a tiny little speck on the planet.
All I can do is try my best to make the world better.
Which reminds me of Bennett. I still need to make things right.
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