permanent residency, they met a farmer from the north coast of the state, on the Olympic Peninsula, who was hiring a farm manager for his organic mixed-crop operation. He liked my dad. We moved to Sequim just as I was entering second grade. I don’t even remember most of the Spanish I learned when I was little. Just swears. My parents were proud of the English they’d learned and spoke it at home.”
“They still there?”
“Yeah. My dad owns shares in the operation now. My mom and I started a café and catering business there, actually, which she runs with Russ’s mom. I did that as part of my senior thesis project. I have a BS in agriculture from Eastern Washington University.”
“How long you been here?”
“Ten years.”
Sam caught her eye at that, clearly surprised. “I mean, I guess that makes sense, you have all this”—he gestured at her fields—“and your business and everything in the city, but I guess. Well. You must be wearing your sunscreen.”
She smiled. “Good genes, too. I’m thirty-eight.”
“I mean yeah, everything you’ve done. You said your husband was in Afghanistan. I guess I should just say things like ‘You’re beautiful,’ not you know, ‘Hey, you don’t look old.’ ”
She laughed. “You don’t look old, either.”
“No, I don’t. I look awesome.”
This man. Even softened up by her cornfield, she liked him. “You’ve never married.” She didn’t ask, Lacey had already told her.
“No. I mean, the easy answer is medical school, residency, working my first job.”
“Is that the answer, the easy one? Or you got something else?”
“I’ve wanted to. I’m not against marriage. I want what my parents had, I guess.”
Nina tried to think if Lacey had told her anything about them, other than that they’d passed, and his dad only recently. “Yeah?”
Sam bent down and picked up a broken-off corn blade as long as his arm and started tearing it into strips. “They were happy.”
“My parents were happy. I think that made it easier for me to have a happy marriage, too. So if you’re not against marriage, and you grew up seeing a good one, why aren’t you fat and happy, Sam Burnside?”
“I had a hard time getting along with my dad. I mean, always. We loved each other, but he didn’t understand me. You know what ADHD is?”
“Yeah, like the kids who have a hard time paying attention? Just go like a little motor?”
“Right, well. I had that. I mean, I still have that. It doesn’t go away. For me, it’s always been this noise, like everything competing for my focus at once. Plus, yeah, it’s hard to stay still. Poor impulse control. I was an angry kid, too. And maybe’s it the fresh air out here fucking with my head, why I’m telling you this, but I still get angry. Right now, I feel like there isn’t anyone I’m not fighting with. My brother. My two sisters. Lacey. Just a goddamned mess.”
She watched him shred the corn blade, one careful strip after another. Thought about how his mind seemed to follow his body, a step behind. His strut when he was trying to appear easygoing. It didn’t take much imagination to see him as a frustrated kid—restless, bright, exasperating.
“Right before I met you here, I was with my brother PJ. At that diner a few blocks from your café?”
“I know it.”
“I hate that place.”
“Why?”
“It’s been there forever. Hasn’t changed at all. I used to have to go there to do homework in high school. I had to get it done before my sisters and brother were done with their after-school stuff so that after my dad picked them up I could take care of them while he drove his limo for second shift. That’s what he did—had a limousine service.”
“Lacey told me one day when your dad’s limo drove by. I guess a family friend drives it for the church now?”
“Yeah. I’d sit in fear in the booths of that diner, afraid I wouldn’t get my homework done before I had to go, and instead of being a
“They still there?”
“Yeah. My dad owns shares in the operation now. My mom and I started a café and catering business there, actually, which she runs with Russ’s mom. I did that as part of my senior thesis project. I have a BS in agriculture from Eastern Washington University.”
“How long you been here?”
“Ten years.”
Sam caught her eye at that, clearly surprised. “I mean, I guess that makes sense, you have all this”—he gestured at her fields—“and your business and everything in the city, but I guess. Well. You must be wearing your sunscreen.”
She smiled. “Good genes, too. I’m thirty-eight.”
“I mean yeah, everything you’ve done. You said your husband was in Afghanistan. I guess I should just say things like ‘You’re beautiful,’ not you know, ‘Hey, you don’t look old.’ ”
She laughed. “You don’t look old, either.”
“No, I don’t. I look awesome.”
This man. Even softened up by her cornfield, she liked him. “You’ve never married.” She didn’t ask, Lacey had already told her.
“No. I mean, the easy answer is medical school, residency, working my first job.”
“Is that the answer, the easy one? Or you got something else?”
“I’ve wanted to. I’m not against marriage. I want what my parents had, I guess.”
Nina tried to think if Lacey had told her anything about them, other than that they’d passed, and his dad only recently. “Yeah?”
Sam bent down and picked up a broken-off corn blade as long as his arm and started tearing it into strips. “They were happy.”
“My parents were happy. I think that made it easier for me to have a happy marriage, too. So if you’re not against marriage, and you grew up seeing a good one, why aren’t you fat and happy, Sam Burnside?”
“I had a hard time getting along with my dad. I mean, always. We loved each other, but he didn’t understand me. You know what ADHD is?”
“Yeah, like the kids who have a hard time paying attention? Just go like a little motor?”
“Right, well. I had that. I mean, I still have that. It doesn’t go away. For me, it’s always been this noise, like everything competing for my focus at once. Plus, yeah, it’s hard to stay still. Poor impulse control. I was an angry kid, too. And maybe’s it the fresh air out here fucking with my head, why I’m telling you this, but I still get angry. Right now, I feel like there isn’t anyone I’m not fighting with. My brother. My two sisters. Lacey. Just a goddamned mess.”
She watched him shred the corn blade, one careful strip after another. Thought about how his mind seemed to follow his body, a step behind. His strut when he was trying to appear easygoing. It didn’t take much imagination to see him as a frustrated kid—restless, bright, exasperating.
“Right before I met you here, I was with my brother PJ. At that diner a few blocks from your café?”
“I know it.”
“I hate that place.”
“Why?”
“It’s been there forever. Hasn’t changed at all. I used to have to go there to do homework in high school. I had to get it done before my sisters and brother were done with their after-school stuff so that after my dad picked them up I could take care of them while he drove his limo for second shift. That’s what he did—had a limousine service.”
“Lacey told me one day when your dad’s limo drove by. I guess a family friend drives it for the church now?”
“Yeah. I’d sit in fear in the booths of that diner, afraid I wouldn’t get my homework done before I had to go, and instead of being a
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