This Is What Happy Looks Like

by Jennifer E. Smith

  She swallowed hard, stung by the unfairness of it. It wasn’t just that she was working all these hours to scrape together money for a course she probably wouldn’t be able to go to anyway. It was that this was just the start of it. Next would be college: all those applications for loans, and Mom up late at night with a calculator, crunching the numbers. There were the ever-present worries about the house and the shop, the endless conversations about budgets and the drawers full of coupons, all things that wouldn’t be an issue if Paul Whitman were still in their lives.

  When Graham had asked her how much money she still needed that night, the question had felt like a bullet. For him, a thousand dollars was probably what you tipped the hotel staff after a week at a resort. He probably earned that much in interest every single day. To him, it was pennies. It was peanuts. It was chump change.

  But to her, it still seemed an impossible amount. It may as well have been ten thousand dollars. It may as well have been a million.

  There was a lump in her throat as Ellie tore her eyes from the yacht. Bagel had started to paddle for the shore, and they both watched him go, the diamond of white on the back of his head bobbing as he swam.

  “I think he’s got the right idea,” Mom said, giving a little kick in that direction. “I’m getting fried. Want to head in?”

  Ellie dipped her chin in the water, shaking her head, then leaned back so that she was floating again, her hair fanning out all around her.

  “Not yet,” she said. “I think I’ll meet you back later.”

  “Okay,” Mom said, starting to swim in. “Don’t float away.”

  The water lapped in Ellie’s ears as she bobbed there. Overhead, the seagulls were talking to one another across the great expanse of the sky, and the sun lowered itself toward the beach. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed out there, letting the waves carry her, her body light despite the heaviness of everything inside her.

  After a while, she flipped herself over and began to swim back to shore, where she wrapped herself in a towel and sat down on her favorite rock—a flat slab that rose above the inlet like a miniature cliff—feeling the salt from the water dry on her face, the sun warm across her eyelids. She curled her toes around the edge of the rock and hugged her knees. Peering down, she was surprised to see a small round disk wedged between the stones, and when she reached for it, she felt a laugh bubble up in her throat.

  It was a sand dollar. Not exactly the kind of dollar she needed.

  She held it flat against her palm, examining the rounded edges, and the light tracings of a star in the middle. Out on the water, another expensive boat slid into view, and Ellie squinted out at it, the first, faintest pattern of an idea taking shape in her head. She sat up straighter, her waterlogged mind waking up again, working through the possibilities as she spun the sand dollar absently in her hands.

  Starting tomorrow, her father would be only an hour away.

  The whole thing seemed suddenly simple, like the most obvious idea in the world. There on the rock, a sense of certainty—of inevitability—was hardening inside her like cement, and she was so busy untangling the thread of a plan that she didn’t hear someone coming through the trees. But at the sound of footsteps on the rocks, she whirled around, and her heart lifted at the sight of Graham.

  From across the beach, he smiled. He was wearing khaki shorts and a blue polo that made his eyes look bright against all the gray, and there was something in his hand that she was certain must be a rock shaped like a heart.

  “You look deep in thought,” he said, still standing at the edge of the beach.

  Ellie was unable to keep from smiling. “Hi,” she said, and he tilted his head, looking at her with amusement.

  “Are you daydreaming or plotting?”

  “Plotting,” she told him, and he seemed to consider this for a moment before taking a few steps toward her.

  “Well, whatever it is,” he said. “I’m in.”

  From: GDL824@yahoo.com

  Sent: Wednesday, July 3, 2013 4:48 PM

  To: harry@fentonmanagement.com

  Subject: (no subject)

  Harry,

  Thanks for the info. I found it enormously helpful.

  Graham

  He’d come back to her, it was true. He was the one to walk out of the woods and onto the beach, to cross the space between them. But he wasn’t the only one. It was there in her eyes: she was coming back to him too.

  The moment he’d opened the envelope, all of his doubts had fallen away. Harry had clearly meant it to be a warning of sorts, but it had the exact opposite effect. Sitting in the trailer, he’d spilled the pile of papers onto the table—a jumble of Internet searches and archived articles—and he’d read all about her past. But it didn’t make him want to stay away from her. He didn’t care that she may or may not be the illegitimate daughter of that stiff-looking senator. He didn’t care about the potential for negative publicity, or the fact that being attached to someone like that could be bad for his career.

  What he cared about was that it explained what had happened between them, all of it: the look on her face when she walked away from him at the harbor that day, the unreturned e-mail, the distance she’d been keeping for the last few weeks.

  It wasn’t about not wanting him. She was only protecting herself.

  But it didn’t matter now. They sat facing each other on the enormous sloping rock that jutted out above the surf. The sun was falling lower in the sky, and though she was now wearing shorts and a T-shirt, Ellie still hugged the towel around her like a blanket, shivering in spite of the late-day heat. Her long hair was still damp from the water, and her nose was pink from the sun.

  She’d tried to talk first, and so had he, their words tumbling into one another like bumper cars until she made him sit down across from her, and they each took a deep breath, laughing without any good reason except that there was a rare kind of joy in this, being here together again. Even without any explanations or apologies, it felt like a redo, a second chance, a new beginning. It was a gift, and Graham didn’t want to be the one to spoil it. But there were things to be said, and so he cleared his throat and leaned forward.

  “Me first,” he said, and Ellie nodded, her face growing sober. It was hard to figure out where to begin, and Graham hesitated. “I know what happened,” he said eventually. “I know that it wasn’t about you and me. It was about your dad.”

  She flinched. “How do you—”

  “Harry found out,” he said. “My manager. He won’t tell anyone. It’s just that he knew I liked you, and he was only trying to protect me—”

  “Protect you?” she said, her green eyes flashing.

  “That’s just his job,” he said. “But it’s not the point. It wasn’t ever about us, right? Which means it doesn’t matter anymore. Now that I know.”

  Ellie frowned. “Of course it matters,” she said. “It doesn’t change anything.”

  “It changes everything,” Graham said. “I don’t care about your past, or who your dad is. It was just about the publicity, right? The cameras?” He lifted his shoulders. “So we’ll stay away from them.”

  “Graham,” she said, her voice stern, though the corner of her mouth was twitching in an effort not to smile. “Just think about it for a second. It’s not that easy to stay away from them. It’s part of who you are.”

  “It’s not who I am,” he said, feeling a small flicker of annoyance, and her face softened.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, and then, to Graham’s surprise, she reached out and touched the side of his face. He felt the heat of her hand on his skin, impossibly soft, but before he could react, she pulled away again, looking embarrassed. “I only meant that it’s too big a risk to take. I’m glad you know the story. I’ve never been able to tell anyone. But being with you—it’s too public. I just can’t do that to my mom.” She paused and looked out across the water. “And Harry’s probably right. It can’t be the best publicity for you either.”<
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  “I don’t care,” he said. “It’s not important.”

  “It is,” she said, looking at him a bit sadly. “And it’s just not worth the risk. You’re only here for a few more days anyway.”

  “Exactly,” he said, inching closer. “We’ve wasted three whole weeks.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I know.”

  “That’s a long time,” he said. “I haven’t even gone three hours without knowing what you’ve been doing since we first started talking.”

  She smiled, but it fell away again almost immediately. “We can’t do this.”

  “Because of the cameras?”

  Ellie nodded. “You know that the minute we go back into town—”

  “Okay,” Graham said, looking around the beach. The sun had finally dipped behind the trees, and the waves were tinged with gold. “Then we’ll just stay here.”

  She laughed. “Forever?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Seems as good a place to live as any.”

  “Nice waterfront view.”

  “Plenty of light.”

  “A beachfront property.

  And no cameras.”

  He nodded. “No cameras.”

  She reached for his hand, and her fingers were warm against his. “I don’t want to lose any more time,” she said quietly, and when he leaned forward to kiss her, he could taste the salt on her lips. It was like gravity, this thing between them, a pull as strong as the tides and unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He’d meant it as a joke when he said he could stay here forever, but he suddenly felt it to be true.

  When she pulled back, he was unprepared to let her go just yet, so he looped an arm around her shoulders, and she fell back onto his chest, curled up against him. They stayed there like that for a long time, looking out over the water without speaking, the setting sun at their backs.

  “Is this where you watch the sunrise?” he asked. “I bet it’s the perfect spot.”

  Ellie twisted to face him with a sheepish expression. “Actually, I’ve never seen it.”

  “What? How is that even possible?”

  “I always sleep through them,” she admitted. “I know, it’s terrible.”

  “But that was on your list.”

  “What list?”

  “Of the things that make you happy.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Right. I guess that was more wishful thinking. Anyway, you lied too.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “How?”

  “You said you liked meeting new people…”

  She didn’t have to finish the thought. He knew what she meant. And it was true—or at least it had been, before he met Ellie. But now everything had changed.

  “I wasn’t lying,” he said, resting his chin on top of her head. “I was talking about you.”

  “Good,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Because I liked meeting you too.”

  “Hopefully better than you like sunrises.”

  “Having never seen them,” she supplied, and he nodded.

  “Exactly. How can you know it makes you happy if you’ve never experienced it?”

  “There are different kinds of happy,” she said. “Some kinds don’t need any proof.”

  “Like sunrises?”

  “Exactly,” she said. “I know enough to know that they’re happy things. There’s just nothing sad about a sunrise.”

  “As opposed to a sunset.”

  “I don’t think they’re particularly sad either.”

  “I do,” Graham told her. “They’re endings, and endings are always sad.”

  “They’re the beginning of the night,” she said. “That’s something.”

  “Yeah, but everyone knows that nights are scarier than days.”

  Ellie laughed. “Maybe we should turn around then.”

  “How come?”

  “Nothing’s all that scary if you can see it coming.”

  Still, they didn’t move. The sun continued to set at their backs, slipping toward the trees and the houses and the whole town of Henley, while before them, the water was busy with boats returning to the harbor. They watched as an enormous sailboat approached, the wind whipping its great white banners. Graham closed his eyes.

  “My parents aren’t coming,” he said, and Ellie stirred in his arms.

  “For the Fourth?”

  “I thought they would,” he said, then shook his head. “That’s not really true, I guess. They never go anywhere. But I’ve also never asked before.”

  “Are you close?”

  “We used to be,” he said. “Before.”

  “Before all this?” she said, and he nodded, knowing what she meant. They both fell silent, charting the progress of the boat, and then Ellie took his hand again. “They’re missing out.”

  “They don’t understand it,” he said. “All this movie stuff.”

  “Can you blame them?”

  “I guess not,” he said quietly. “I don’t even understand it myself half the time.”

  “At least you’ve got Wilbur,” she said, and he laughed.

  “That’s true.”

  “And me.”

  He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “That too.”

  The boat had started to darken into a silhouette against the gold of the water, and a warm breeze lifted the hair from Graham’s forehead.

  “I’m sorry about your dad,” he said, though he was still thinking of his own.

  It took her a moment to respond. “I never used to mind,” she said. “I got really lucky with my mom. But it’s been tougher than usual this summer.”

  “Because of me?” he asked, but she didn’t answer. Instead she pulled away, swiveling around to face him fully, her eyes shiny and determined.

  “He’s in Kennebunkport for the long weekend.”

  Graham gave her a mystified look, wondering what this had to do with anything. “Where’s that?”

  “Just north of here,” she said, her jaw set. “He’s there with his family, and I’m gonna go up and see him tomorrow.”

  “That’s what you were planning before?” he asked. “Does he know you’re coming?”

  She shook her head.

  “And you haven’t seen him since you were little?”

  “Right,” she said with a nod.

  “And does your mom know?”

  Ellie bit her lip. “No.”

  Graham sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

  “Aren’t movie stars supposed to be reckless and irresponsible?” she said, attempting a grin, but it was quick to falter.

  “I just don’t think—”

  “I don’t care,” she said, her voice infused with a flinty resolve. “I’ve already decided.”

  Graham hesitated for a moment, and then he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Then I’m coming too.”

  She looked surprised. “No, you’re not.”

  “We’ve got the day off shooting, and I’ve got nothing to do on the Fourth anyway,” he said. “We’ll make a road trip out of it.”

  “You’re way too conspicuous.”

  “I’ll blend in.”

  In spite of herself, she laughed. “Not possible.”

  “I promise,” he said. “I’ll wear a cowboy hat. And a fake mustache.”

  “That’s not the slightest bit melodramatic.”

  “Occupational hazard,” he said with a grin.

  “How about this?” Ellie said, rising to her feet, the towel still slung around her shoulders. “I’ll sleep on it.”

  “Fine,” he said, standing up too. “But I’ll start getting my costume ready just in case.”

  As they began to walk up the beach, he reached for her hand. They were quiet, the rocks crunching beneath their feet, the waves rushing up to the shore behind them.

  Three more days, Graham was thinking.

  He didn’t want to miss a single one of them.

  “So are you done for the day?” Ellie ask
ed without looking at him, her head bent as she picked her way over the uneven terrain.

  “I am,” he told her. “You free tonight?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said, and he could almost hear the laughter in her voice. “I figure we could take a stroll through town, go to the Lobster Pot, maybe make out a little on the village green…”

  “Very funny,” he said as they reached the little bank that separated the beach from the trees, and together, they scrambled up the slope. “How about a picnic? We can meet right back here later.”

  She nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

  It was darker in the grove, where a bluish dusk had settled into every pocket of space, and Graham allowed himself to be led by Ellie, stumbling a bit as they felt their way toward the street. There was something dreamlike about it, with only the grumble of their footsteps and the sound of their breathing, her smaller hand in his, guiding him along. The beach was only a few yards behind them and the road only a few yards ahead, but right here amid the trees, it felt like they were a million miles away from anything. So when the first flash went off up ahead, it took a moment for him to realize what it was.

  If he’d been in Los Angeles or New York, or even just up the road in the middle of Henley, his mind would have moved faster, but here in the gathering dusk, emerging from the solitude of the beach, he was slow to understand the implications. In front of him, Ellie had come to an abrupt stop, dropping his hand. But even as the second light went off and the scene took on a fumbling clarity—the glint of a motorcycle, the flurry of footsteps, another flash—all he could do was stand there, blinking.

  “Graham,” came the first shout, and beside him, he could feel Ellie stiffen. “Graham, can you give us a smile? How about a kiss?” There were only three of them, but it felt like more; it felt like they were surrounded.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” one of them asked Ellie, an enormous bald guy who’d been lurking around town since the film crew first arrived. He took a step forward, pacing the edge of the road. They were still mostly hidden in the trees, but there was nowhere else to go from here. “Can we just get one shot?”