On the Rocks (6 page)

“I am. You were right, this beach house was a great idea.”

“I know it is. I’m more curious as to why you now think it is. I feel like I had to drag you into this, and now you’re all Zen about it?”

“Zen might be a stretch, but I am excited. I feel like this is the first positive thing I’ve done for myself in a very long time. I think this may be what I need to turn things around. At the very least, it’s a nice change of scenery and the ocean is calming. I think it will go a long way toward helping me get centered.”

“Have you been doing yoga or something?” she asked, sounding a bit suspicious.

“No, I just realized when I was packing up and leaving that little sweatbox I call an apartment that this is probably good for me, and I’m really looking forward to it.”

“I’m so proud of you! So you’re not nervous or anything? It’s been a while since you’ve been out and about.”

“Let’s not get crazy. I’m terrified. But it’s a good feeling, not sad. I like that the sadness has been replaced with something else.”

“You’re very welcome. Now if these other morons would get out of my way so we can get there before midnight, maybe I’d share your newfound calmness,” Grace said as she turned her attention back to the cars inching along in front of us and slammed her hand on the steering wheel for the second time in as many minutes. Granted, traffic is infuriating, but Grace seemed a bit too upset for that to be the only thing bothering her.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re so fired up? That steering wheel never did anything to you, you know.”

“Sorry, I’m a little jumpy. Johnny and I had a fight yesterday before I left the office,” she said.

Grace had been seeing Johnny for about nine months. They were friends who worked closely together, and after innumerable late nights and bad office take-in, their relationship had developed from friendship into love. The way Grace tells it, she became a confidante when things started to go wrong in his marriage, and somehow the lines became blurred and then obliterated entirely. They kept up the charade of being just friends for as long as they could, and then over drinks after work one night he confessed his true feelings for her. It would’ve been a great thing to have happen if he wasn’t married, and while he promised her that he was going to leave his wife, as of yet, it hadn’t happened. The stress of the constant sneaking around and the knowledge that she was dating a man who belonged to another woman had worn on Grace over time, but she loved him. And for now, the hope that he would eventually man up and make an honest woman out of her was enough to keep her hanging on.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s nothing new. That’s the worst part. We keep having the same arguments over and over about when he’s finally going to walk away from his sham of a marriage. When things are great, they’re just so great, but only having him part-time is killing me. Anyway, I’m sorry. I know we’ve talked this to death. I don’t know how you even stand to listen to it anymore.”

“That’s what friends do. Listen to their friends talk about the same guys ad nauseam. You do it for me all the time. I know this is hard, but you signed up for this.”

“I know I did. And for what? What kind of future do we have? We see each other once a week outside of work, and I now carry a portable hair dryer and a toothbrush in my purse. Thank God hobo bags are in style since that’s basically what I am.”

“I do love a good hobo. You’re being too hard on yourself. This isn’t a normal relationship, it hasn’t been from the beginning. You can’t expect it to function normally. Stuff like this comes with the territory.”

“I thought leaving on the weekends, and being busy, and meeting new people would force him to realize how close he is to losing me, you know?” she said.

“He’s not worried about losing you. You’re not going anywhere, not that that’s your fault. Look at it realistically. You work with him.”

“True, but I’m going to Newport. That’s somewhere.”

“Grace, do you really think he will leave his family? How do you see this all ending?”

“I think we’re meant to be together. I know if I say that to anyone else, they’ll think I’m delusional, but I do.”

“Then I hope that it happens. But until then, I think you need to work on your life outside of him. It’s something I didn’t do while I was with Ben, and look how badly I’m paying for it. You can’t be defined by a guy because, if he leaves, you will have nothing except your couch and cookie dough ice cream, and I promise you, you don’t want that. Learn from my mistakes.”

“I know. Why does it all have to be so complicated?”

“He’s married, babe. It’s complicated by definition. I guess all relationships are.”

“And everyone is judging me. Everyone but you, and even you judge me a little.”

“No, I don’t!” I replied, trying to defend myself. “I just hate seeing you upset all the time. But I don’t judge. I’m in no position to criticize anyone’s relationship.”

“Speaking of, are you still trading emails with Ben?”

“Occasionally,” I admitted.

“I don’t know why you even acknowledge he exists. You’re so smart when it comes to other people’s relationships.”

“I’m working on it. Actually, can you do me a favor?”

“Try me.”

“I don’t want your friend to know what happened with Ben. Did you tell him already?”

“No. I just told him that you were fun and that you recently broke up with someone, so you were single. Why?”

“I just want to escape it, you know? And I don’t want him to know me as the girl who had her engagement canceled online.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed, but I am embarrassed, and then I have to explain what happened and relive the whole thing over and over and over again. It’s bad enough I was the talk of the town at home. If I’m going to meet some new people, I’d like to leave that part of me in the past. I want a fresh start. Okay?”

“That makes sense. Okay, I won’t say anything about the engagement. We’ll keep that our dirty little secret.” She reached over and locked her pinky finger around mine.

“Of course, the downside of that is that then I just look like I’m fat for no reason.”

“You’re not fat,” she answered reflexively.

“I gained twenty pounds and I’m short, Grace. I know love is blind, but you don’t love me enough to not have noticed. It’s okay. I’m working on that too.”

“So you gained a few pounds. Who hasn’t?”

“Seeking comfort in Betty Crocker and Sara Lee seemed like a good idea at the time. Then again, so did marrying Ben. I apparently have horrible decision-making skills.”

“Well, you keep good company.”

I smiled as I stared ahead at the seemingly endless traffic. Leaving the city at 3:30
P.M.
on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend had also seemed like a good idea at the time, but since we were still sitting in traffic almost three hours later, we were starting to rethink our plan. The weather reports said that it was going to be seventy-five degrees and sunny this weekend, perfect beach weather, so it was unfortunate that we were not the only people who apparently read accuweather.com. We had packed up our summer clothes and all other warm weather essentials—our bikinis, beach towels, sunblock, and enough Coronas to get the entirety of Mexico hammered—and headed out.

I looked out the window as we drove, my mind flitting back and forth between the dream life that I wanted and the real one I was currently living. I thought about the storied mansions on the Newport cliffs and how at one point people actually kept them solely as summer homes. I’m sure that the old adage that money can’t buy you happiness is true, but as someone whose checking account was pathetically low, it was hard for me to believe that it hurt anything. I mean, maybe money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy you plenty of other things to distract you from your misery. Which is more than I could say for myself. All I’d had these last few months was Grace and sugar in all its many wondrous forms.

“I need you to read these to me,” Grace said as she handed me a white napkin with blue ink scribbled illegibly on it. There were only two lines written on it, and for a second I was nervous that maybe Grace had been bombed when she attempted to write down the directions and passed out halfway through.

“I don’t see a beach,” I said, wondering if this had all been some giant ruse and she was really about to drop me off at a fat camp in the middle of nowhere.

“The house is close to Gooseberry Beach, but it’s a drive. Before you freak out, the house is literally a two-block walk to town, the piers, and all the bars. I figured we’d care more about being able to walk to the bars than we would about walking to the beach. Oh, and there’s an ice cream parlor too, in case you keep talking to Ben and fall off the wagon again.”

“I resent that. I’ve been doing so well.”

“It’s been two hours.”

“You’re impossible to please.”

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out hesitantly, sensing that it was Ben, knowing that I shouldn’t even bother to read it, and not caring about that in the slightest. I really hated when Grace was right.

I read on Grace’s Facebook page that you guys were going to Newport for the summer. I’m jealous. I miss the beach. Actually, I miss you.

I replied:

Just getting here now. I’m not the one who told you to land lock yourself.

I know. One of many decisions I regret. Have fun.

What does that mean?

When twenty minutes passed and I hadn’t heard back, I realized that I wasn’t going to. I knew better than to give Ben the ball, to let him be the one who determined when and how our conversations ended, but for some reason, time and time again, I did. There were freakin’ lab rats that learned faster than I did.

“Abby,” Grace yelled as she snapped her fingers in my face. “Put that thing away or I swear I’m going to rip it out of your hand and throw it out the window.”

I returned my phone to my bag and tried not to obsess over what Ben had said, which was clearly impossible. Find me a girl who doesn’t try to decode even the most straightforward of messages from a guy, and I’ll show you a girl who’s lying.

“Read the directions. I know we have to make a right somewhere up here,” Grace yelled.

“It says make a right on Thames Street.”

“Where the hell is that?” she asked as she slowed to avoid pedestrians.

“How should I know? I have no idea where we are, and I think that’s what this says, but I’m not sure. I can’t read your writing!”

Before Grace had the chance to defend herself, the street sign appeared in front of us. We made a right and continued to head south, parallel to Newport Harbor and the bustling piers. We drove through the town, teeming with bars and restaurants, the sidewalks overflowing with seemingly happy couples, all of them smiling and laughing. Who could blame them? If I had actually managed to make it down the aisle, if I’d been able to afford a charming little house in Newport and live there for the summer with my loving husband, I’d be laughing and smiling too.

If only I didn’t have “if” in front of all of those things.

We passed by Bowen’s Wharf, Bannister’s Wharf, and a bunch of other wharfs that all seemed to have one thing in common: waterfront bars and restaurants. We continued through town before making a right onto Grafton Street and immediately pulled into a narrow driveway running along the side of a pale yellow shingled house. A small flight of stairs led from the front lawn to a large porch—complete with a barbecue and patio furniture—that wrapped around the first floor.

“If this is home for the summer, it was worth the four hours in the car,” I said as I stared at the quaint but adorable piece of real estate in front of us. It wasn’t just walking distance to the bars. It was spitting distance. It was perfect.

“Told you! Welcome to your new home until Labor Day, Abs. Don’t waste it!”

We grabbed our bags out of the back of the car and raced inside. The house was airy and calming, decorated with white wicker furniture and in shades of blue and green. Large glass jars filled with seashells were placed decoratively on the coffee table, and framed pictures of sunsets, dunes, and boats hung on the walls. The hardwood floors throughout the house were immaculately polished, sheer white, gauzy drapes hung from the windows, and the sliding-glass door opened up onto an expansive back deck. I left my bag in a small room at the end of the hall on the second floor and returned to meet Grace in the kitchen.

“Well, now what?” I asked. “Did you call your friend Bobby?”

“I texted him. He said to meet them at a bar down on the water called the Landing. His parents’ house is actually just down the block, which is awesome. It’s going to be like living in a dorm with cute boys at the end of the hall and no bunk beds. They’re here all summer, Abs, so you’ll have boys to play with.”

“You mentioned that already. I agreed to come to the beach, Grace. I didn’t agree to let you play matchmaker. I don’t want you trying to set me up with one of your friends, okay? I’m not ready, and I already know I won’t like him.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s male.”

“Lighten up, Abby,” Grace said. “Let’s get going.”

I shrugged reluctantly, grabbed my purse, and followed her out into town.

Ten minutes later, we pushed through the crowds of the bare-bones seafood shack on the wharf. It was so crowded you could barely move, but everyone was happy and wearing sunglasses and their bathing suits, so it was hard to mind. “Hey, there’s Bobby,” Grace said as we squeezed our way up to the bar and the whirling blenders that promised frozen drinks and margaritas.

“Which one is he?” I asked as I eyed the preppy crowd, interested to see who Grace none too subtly was trying to set me up with. She was still very much involved with her boss, despite the fact that she threatened to break up with him on a weekly basis, so she clearly wasn’t interested in meeting someone. She was, however, very interested in helping me meet someone. In fact, it was beginning to look like her sole mission for the next three months.