“What parts?”
I thought about it.
“The smell after storms. The way everyone knows whose dog got loose. The church bells on Sunday. The mountains.”
“And what don’t you miss?”
“People remembering one version of you forever.”
He nodded.
“Greenwich does that too,” he said.
I looked at him, surprised.
He kept his eyes on the road.
“It just charges more for the privilege.”
By late afternoon, we pulled up outside a small blue house with white trim and a porch that sagged slightly on one side. Lily had painted the porch railings herself the previous summer. One post was a different shade of white because she ran out of paint and refused to wait.
Before I could unbuckle my seat belt, the front door flew open.
Lily ran out first.
She was taller than when I had last seen her, all elbows and long hair, wearing jeans and an oversized sweater. Behind her came Paul, lean and serious, then Johnny, broader, cautious, wiping his hands on a shop rag as though he had been working until the second we arrived.
Lily reached me first and nearly knocked me backward with her hug.
“You got married,” she cried into my shoulder. “You got married and didn’t let me do your hair.”
I laughed, holding her tight.
“It was a small wedding.”
“That is not an excuse.”
Paul hugged me next, gentler, mindful of old scars that no longer hurt but lived in his memory as much as mine.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“I am.”
He looked past me at Nathan.
“Is he okay?”
I smiled.
“He’s learning.”
Johnny stayed on the porch.
He watched Nathan with the guarded stare of someone who had spent years expecting good things to come with conditions.
Nathan approached slowly and offered his hand.
“Johnny,” he said. “I’m Nathan.”
Johnny looked at his hand before shaking it.
“I know who you are.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“That doesn’t mean I know what you want.”
Nathan did not flinch.
“I want to meet the people Emily loves.”
Johnny’s expression did not soften, but his grip eased slightly.
“That all?”
“For today, yes.”
Lily leaned toward me and whispered loudly, “He talks like a movie lawyer.”
Paul coughed to hide a laugh.
Nathan smiled.
“I’ve been accused of worse.”
Dinner was spaghetti, garlic bread, salad from a bag, and sweet tea so strong Nathan blinked after his first sip. Lily asked him questions with no mercy. Did rich people eat leftovers? Had he ever pumped his own gas? Did he know Emily snored when she was exhausted?
“I do not snore,” I said.
Johnny snorted.
Paul raised his glass. “You absolutely do.”
Nathan looked delighted.
“I’ll consider myself warned.”
Slowly, the evening loosened.
Nathan listened more than he spoke. When Paul explained his classes, Nathan asked about clinical rotations rather than offering to fund anything. When Lily talked about wanting to teach first grade, he asked what made her choose that age. When Johnny mentioned the garage where he worked, Nathan asked what kind of engines he preferred.
It was such a small thing, asking people about themselves without turning their answers into problems to solve.