“I’m surprised you remembered.” His grin is really infectious.
I shrug and say nothing. But I’m grinning too.
He sticks the fork into the cake and comes back with a piece that’s way too big for his mouth. But he opens up wide and shovels it in, his eyes closing as he chews. “It tastes a lot better than it looks,” he says after he swallows. He dives in for another piece, and it’s just as big as the first.
I stick my fork in the cake and come back with a small piece, but just as I almost get it to my mouth, he grabs my arm and guides the fork into his mouth instead. “Hey!” I pretend to be offended. “That was mine.”
“My birthday,” he says, “my cake.”
“So I don’t get to eat any of it?” I pretend to huff and pout.
“Fine, you can have one bite.” He rolls his eyes. He gets up. “I’m going to get out of these wet things. Don’t go anywhere.”
He goes into his tent, his little duck toddling behind him, and comes out a couple of minutes later wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt. He throws his damp towel and his wet swimsuit over the little clothesline he has strung up between two trees.
“You didn’t have to get dressed on my account,” I say.
He heaves out an exaggerated sigh. “Now I’m going to think you only want me for my body.” He taps his temple. “I do have a brain, you know.” But he grins when he does it. He sits down again and dives in for another bite of cake, but this time he moves the fork down toward the ground and drops the piece of cake in front of his duck. The duck dives on it like he’s never seen food before. “Wilbur!” He tsks.
“Wilbur?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“His name is Wilbur,” he explains with a grin. “Because he eats like a pig.”
“That’s what you’re calling the duck?” I look down at the little guy who is happily chowing down on some cake. “He looks so happy.”
“A turtle tried to eat him when I was swimming just now,” he says, his brow furrowing.
“Turtles eat ducks?” I ask, slightly aghast at the thought.
“Lots of things eat ducks,” he says. “I had to put him in the tent one day last week when a big old hawk kept sweeping by while I was working. I thought it was going to snatch him up.”
“How did you end up with a duck?” I never did hear the story.
“A fox raided the nest,” he says, talking over a mouth full of cake. He swallows. “Sorry,” he says. “But it’s so good!”
“Please.” I encourage him to keep eating. “Talk. Eat. I don’t care. I won’t be offended if you do both at the same time.” I take another bite of the cake finally, and he winks at me. “So, a fox raided the nest…”
He nods. “Made off with the mother, I suppose. No help for that. All the eggs in the nest had been destroyed. All but one. I put it in my pocket and brought it back with me. Just to see what would happen.” He gestures toward the duck. “Then he happened.”
“Wilbur happened.”
“Now I couldn’t get rid of him if I tried. He follows me everywhere.” But he looks down at the duck with so much affection on his face that I know he likes him.
“I’ve seen him chasing you around.” I pretend to glare at him. “Since you’ve been avoiding me, I’ve had to watch from afar.”
“Yeah,” he says. “About that.” He stops talking and stares at nothing.
“You going to tell me why?”
“I’d like to tell you everything,” he says quietly. “But I…” He stops again, and there’s a look on his face like no look I’ve ever seen on anybody’s face before. Ever.
I reach over and cover his hand with mine. He winces at the contact but doesn’t pull away. “The last thing that you said to me the other night was that you break the things you touch. What did you mean by that?”
He gives a little half shrug. “I have a way of royally fucking things up.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means…that I’ll destroy you too if you let me.” He looks so resigned to his words, and it makes me sad.