Julie, Johnathan, and I found a table closest to the railing. Despite my shifting, shameful gaze, her blue eyes hardly leave mine.

They study my movements and features like she's mentally taking a picture in anticipation of never seeing me again.

"It's just so crazy how things happen. I was just talking to my dad about Ashton, and here you are," Julie says, vertically gesturing her hands at me across from her.

I narrow my eyes and ask, "Why were you talking about Ashton?"

She opens her mouth and inhales, inches from answering. Johnathan clears his throat, darting his eyes to her and twitching his head to subtly tell her not to.

When she looks at me, I tilt and jut out my head in anticipation.

"No offense, you know I love him like a little brother, but -- on the weekends, he tends to get black-out drunk and finds himself in a mess." She trips over her words, scrambling for a way to soften the blow. Despite her feeble attempt, my heart drops. "He'll stumble into our store, try to steal random tchotchkes, and when confronted he gets all irate. My dad's called the police more times than we can count."

Watching my gaze drift onto my plate, Johnathan quickly says, "But it's nothing none of us can't handle. Officer Warren usually leaves him in the drunk tank, then drops him off at home with a warning."

"Then the cycle repeats," Julie mumbles, her fingers around her straw as she aimlessly stirs her Arnold Palmer.

"It's not that I'm surprised, because believe me I've seen him at his worst, but -- Jesus." I plant my face in my palms as I struggle to compose myself. Once my hands stop shaking, I run my fingers through my red curls and turn to him beside us. "Have you seen him like that?"

He looks at Marie with a hitched breath who diverts her gaze to the sea hitting the shore.

His vocal hesitation resembles a soft, internal motor. He twitches when he says, "Only a few times. A few times I drove past him stumbling through town," and though he answers it casually, they share worried glances. I scoff, cross my arms, and sit back.

"And my mother knows this but," I say, restraining myself from oversharing. I know Dad's death came as a shock to him because it did for me. Though he's eight years younger than me, we were so close as kids that he was like my twin. We fought for Dad's attention, but as the girl, I won more times than him. I almost fainted at work when I received the call. "Nevermind. I'm sorry, I don't know what to say, really."

I stare at my hands on my lap, my nails absentmindedly tugging at loose skin around the cuticles. The ice in Julie's drink clinks against the glass, slow and constant like she's hypnotizing me. The pleasantries passing back and forth around us fill the void of silence while they shift their weight.

"On a lighter note," Johnathan says, throwing on a grin and nudging his head toward her. "Julie's taking over Vernon's Fishmarket."

She rolls her eyes and scoffs as his contagious expression transfers to her. She monotonously says, "Thanks, buddy. I guess, now, there's no point in me sharing the news over drinks."

"We both know you weren't gonna say anything." He tilts his head in her direction, staring at her through his lashes. He turns to me and says, "Marie, she's so bashful and modest. I can't brag about her without her downplaying her achievements."

Julie fidgets her lips, fighting to maintain her expression that falters the longer she looks at me. She says through forced chuckles to no one in particular, "Owning a fish market is hardly an achievement."

"There are unemployed people who'll beg to differ." She looks at him, but I focus on her. She reminds me of myself. Approaching graduation and disillusioned by Port-Christi, I dreamt of something better than what I was conditioned to believe was enough. I could've let fear of failure, and my dad's heart attack scare keep me in this coastal bubble, but I had to find something better.

"What do you actually wanna do," I ask in a low voice. They turn their heads to me, but like we're the only two at the table, I don't look away. "Like -- in life."

"Well, I've always wanted to be a school teacher. I love working with kids; I always have, but my parents," she trails off, then mumbles, "You know how it is."

Squinting and shaking my head, I ask, "Do you think you could maybe do both," and she snickers. Johnathan follows suit. "I'm serious. A lot of people have multiple jobs or pursue multiple passion projects."

"Yeah, but my parents are getting old, Marie, and I can't think of how I'd squeeze in time. Plus, I have my grandma in Sandy Cove, and I'm basically the only one checking up on her." I practically melt in my chair. I remember her grandma. Anne would fuss at us for running in and out of the house when we were kids, and when either of us was in trouble, she'd forbid us from hanging out.

Once I tried to see Julie when I was on punishment, but Anne came to the door with the corded phone in her hand and my mother on the other end.

"Why didn't you tell me," he asks, his tone as serious as his face. "I could've dropped in on her to give you a break?"

"Johnathan, you know she doesn't like you." I look at him, then at her as she turns her gaze to me. "She always thought it was strange that a senior was hanging out with us freshmen."

"I didn't talk to him much; you did." Julie shrugs and pouts her rose-tinted lip at my correction.

She says, "Well, my point still stands," and I let out a breath that nudges my body. Staring at the crumbs and half-finished food scattered on my plate, I allow my mind to drift. So much has changed in what feels like just a few years and it leaves me feeling like an outsider. That's another score for Chicago. "Well, um, how's life in Boston?"

He heaves a strained snort that puffs his cheeks. Maintaining eye contact with him, I say, "I wouldn't know, because I live in Chicago," and almost every other word has a punchy tone. "Is this an inside joke?"

"No, I genuinely didn't know." Julie lightly swats at him and taps his wrist with the back of her hand. Though she says, "John, stop," her voice quivers like someone moments away from bursting into laughter.

"Is he always like this," I ask, earning an Unfortunately from Julie.

I lift my chin to watch the white birds squawking past on their flight further into town from the beach. They form what resembles an arrow as they fly above us. Once the building's roof obscures them, I return my attention to my old friends.

Lunch continues for a few minutes longer, and in that time I tell her all of what I shared with him from my boyfriend's band to the sale that I made. Afterward, we excuse ourselves to the bathroom.

Both restrooms face each other with two water fountains and a portrait of a ship in a storm on the wall between them. Julie and I step into the ladies' room where women in flowy dresses or jeans chat from stalls to sinks.

We continue toward the aisle separating four stalls from four more, and I glance at the little rectangular window almost touching the ceiling. It's cracked open, filling the room with salt-tinged air and the rumbling of passing vehicles.

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