Chapter 5: Bimbo

I typed back at 1:04.

"No. I didn't know."

Three dots came up, and went away, and came up again.

Then nothing.

I lay there until the window went gray.

On Saturday Coby had his first regatta of the spring, on Reeds Lake.

I had been to every one for ten years.

I always stood at the end of the boathouse dock, with a thermos of cocoa and a towel for him in a tote bag.

Cullen found me in the yard at six, loading my car.

"Where are you off to?"

"Coby's race."

"After he called you that?"

"After he texted me at one in the morning that they're shipping him to Connecticut."

He looked at me for a second.

"Want company?"

"No. This one's mine."

"Fair enough." He held out a paper bag. "Donut for the road. Don't tell your dad."

It was a forty-minute drive.

I ate the donut in four bites and didn't taste it.

Reeds Lake was cold and bright, with mist still sitting on the water.

The crew parents were set up along the shore in camp chairs, with banners and coffee and blankets.

I knew all of them.

I'd made the team's spaghetti dinners for six seasons.

Some of them waved, and then stopped waving halfway through.

I walked out to the end of the boathouse dock.

Somebody was already standing in my spot.

White wool coat, white jeans, platinum bob, a Starbucks cup in one red-nailed hand.

Kiersten turned around and smiled with her whole face.

"Oh my God," she said, loud. "Look who drove in from the bait shop."

Two mothers on the dock behind her went quiet.

"I'm here to watch Coby."

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