The Day That Saved Us by Mindy Hayes Page B

minutes.” She gets up and saunters toward me.
    I have one foot on the bottom stair when my mom’s voice stops me. “What are you doing with that?” Though it’s quiet, her tone is sharp. At first I think she’s talking to me, but it wouldn’t make sense. I don’t have anything. When I turn, I see her staring at Nick, her body rigid.
    My eyes travel to him standing near the fridge, leaning his back against the countertop. He has a mug halfway to his lips, but it’s not just any mug. It’s a fairly significant mug. It’s my dad’s mug. The one I made for him when I was in eighth grade. The one my dad used every morning while we vacationed here.
    Nick slowly lowers it and looks at the surfboard I engraved into the side of the ceramic with ‘Dad’ written inside of the shape. He opens his mouth, not understanding her distress at first. Then it dawns on him. They exchange looks I don’t follow.
    “I’m sorry, Liv. I didn’t think.” He holds it out to her, and she swipes the mug from his hands. “I just grabbed the first mug I—”
    “No. You didn’t think.” Her voice is strained. She takes the mug to the sink and pours his coffee down the drain.
    “You know I’d never…” Nick trails off; his eyes drift over to us watching the conversation go down. We all take that as our cue to quietly creep up the stairs.
    Brodee and Skylar part from us at the top of the stairs with looks of apprehension as Harper and I walk into my room to change into our suits.
    When I close the door Harper says, “Well, that was awkward. It’s just a mug. Why is she so upset?” She sounds more confused than anything else, so I don’t take offense.
    Harper obviously couldn’t see what I saw and doesn’t understand the significance. “It was my dad’s mug,” I say quietly as I take my black bathing suit out of the top drawer of my dresser.
    “Oh.” She digs in her duffle bag for her bikini. Carefully, she asks, “Do you think she overreacted a little bit?”
    I don’t answer right away because I can’t decide. My mom has never scolded Nick like that before. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure I’ve seen them argue openly.
    “I dunno. Maybe. After the years of friendship they’ve shared, a part of me thinks Nick should’ve known better, but at the same time it’s hard to gauge what’s going to set her off. And I honestly don’t think he was paying attention.”
    “Did it bother you to see him using it?”
    I shrug. “A little, yeah.”
    “Maybe you should take the mug out of the kitchen. I wouldn’t have known not to use it.”
    “No. It’s fine.” I see how silly it might sound to an outsider, being upset over a piece of pottery. And my mom didn’t need to take it from him and dump his coffee down the drain. That may have been taking it a bit far. “It is just a mug.”
    “But it means something to you and your mom.”
    It does. “Yeah. She probably took care of it though. I doubt anyone will use it again.”
    Today is clearly leaning toward a not-so-great day for my mom if she let something like that affect her so easily. It’s always hard to decide if she needs space or if I should go to her on days like this. I toy with idea of trying to talk to her. I’d understand if she wants to be left alone. I know there’s nothing I can say to help her or make her feel better. I know because there’s nothing anyone can say to me either. I’ve simply learned to live through the days, breathe through the pain.
    There’s nothing more that I want to do now than to get out of the house and relax on the shore all day.
     

     
    AS WE LAZE around the beach in Rodanthe and surf, the only thing I can think about is how much I want this to last. It’s not the big moments I want. It’s this. Watching Brodee and Skylar skimboard and laugh as they biff it, looking to us to see if we witnessed it. And Harper reading a magazine beside me on her stomach, her feet swinging back and forth in the air, while I read