Hope Never Died

12︱Namesakes on the Seaport

When we reach the Seaport, I turn to Cory to gauge her reaction.

"To compare," a voice whispers in the back of my head.

She beams widely as she looks around the place, half of her body out of the window. "Elias!" she squeals, turning to me. "El, this's so cool! Dad used to bring me here all the time when I was young!"

Something in my chest—something in my heart—lights up at her words. I feel my mouth curve into a wide smile.

"Let's go, then," I tell her. She doesn't even need me to open the door for her, she's out before I even open my door. I laugh and bend to pick up her brown bag, which she dropped in her haste. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, and she grins up at me.

"Good thing it's not so packed," she says, sounding relieved.

"It's late," I point out.

She shrugs. "Going out late is the best."

I smile and watch as she looks around the place with wondrous eyes. "When's the last time you came here?"

"Five years ago."

"Do you want to eat now?" I ask her.

She shakes her head, her hand gripping the fingers of my arm that dangle from her shoulder. "Can we walk first?"

"Whatever you want, sunshine, let's walk."

With a bright smile my way, she begins to walk with me toward South Street. When we stop there, the pier in front of the sea is empty, and I focus on the sound of her fast breathing, trying not to think much of it. She always has short breaths.

That doesn't necessarily mean that she's sick, I remind myself calmly.

Her sharp intake of breath makes me look down at her, though. She's looking at the sea with a nostalgic smile, her eyes bright. "Dad always said he wanted to get a boat, throw it in, and jump into it."

"He would've probably gotten arrested," I mumble, smiling down at her.

"Probably," she agrees with a short laugh. "But he would've said it's worth it. 'Live life in all shapes and forms, Delie,' he used to say. 'Live until you feel at peace that even if your time is over, you've done everything you could to have fun.' He went away with a bucket list that was all crossed out, save for one last thing," she says, choking out another laugh and pressing her palms to her eyes.

I kiss the top of her head and squeeze her shoulders. She sniffs and shakes her head, smiling at the water. "What's the last thing on his list?" I ask, genuinely curious.

She tilts her head, still staring at the sea. "'Tell everyone about the sadness that thaws at my heart and freezes my mind.'"

I draw in a sharp breath, not expecting anything of the sort.

She takes out her phone and snaps a picture of the sea with a nostalgic, sad smile. "Let's go, Elias."

"Let's go," I mutter, leading her away and pretending that I don't notice her looking back every two seconds as though he's suddenly going to come out of nowhere and she might miss him if she doesn't focus. "He called you Delia?" I ask.

She nods. "He never liked my name."

"Why not?"

Her eyes snap up to meet mine. "You haven't figured out my namesake?"

I frown in confusion.

"Shakespeare's play: King Lear," she explains. "About a king with three daughters, Cordelia is Lear's youngest and his favorite. But then he decides to divide the lands of his kingdom between them because he's going old. He asks the girls to profess their love for him, and when Cordelia refuses, he exiles her. She gets banished from the kingdom, then she's married to the king of France, whom she leaves with. When she returns to Lear, he can barely recognize her because he's gone mad after his other daughters rejected him. She forgives him and tries to assist him against her sisters. But then they're ordered to be imprisoned and executed by someone with authority. Only the guy who ordered that pardoned them before dying himself. But Lear watches Cordelia's death before dying himself."