Summer People (14 page)

“What do the kids think?” Kara asked.

“They have no idea,” Beth said.

“It’s interesting, isn’t it, that your relationship with this man … what’s his name again?”

“David,” Beth said, her voice practically a whisper. “David Ronan.”

“That your relationship with David is directly tied to Garrett’s relationship with his new girlfriend. You can expect some conflicting emotions regarding that.”

“I do,” Beth said. She waited a beat. “So what do you think? It’s wrong, isn’t it? I have to stop this before it goes any further.” She laughed at her own absurdity. “It’s wrong to give him any hope.”

“It sounds like you want me to tell you it’s wrong,” Kara said. “And I’m not going to do that.”

There was more to it than just David’s advances. There was the whole problem of David himself, their shared past. Beth remembered the ride home from the Ronan cocktail party. She could have told Arch then; she could have come clean. But she clung to her privacy.
Every man, woman, and child is entitled to one secret.
Even from her therapist. Kara Schau was the wrong person to talk to about this. Beth was looking for absolution where there was none. Arch was dead. There was nothing Beth could do now except live with her decision. “I can remember when David was the only person who mattered to me,” she said. “His voice was the only voice I wanted to hear.”

“Couldn’t you pursue a friendship with this man?” Kara asked. “You need more friends, Beth. I’ve been telling you that for months.”

“We’re ‘just friends’ right now,” Beth said. “The reason I called is because I sense that David wants the relationship to head in another direction.”

“Do
you
want the relationship to turn into a romance?” Kara said.

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”

“But that’s the question here. That’s why you called me. You want me to ask you because you’re afraid to ask yourself. Do you want a romantic relationship with this man?”

“Arch just died.”

“That’s right,” Kara said. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, Beth. But I will tell you this one thing. It is very difficult, if not impossible, to relinquish and attach at the same time. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Did Beth understand? The words brought up a series of perplexing images. She pictured herself relinquishing Arch, like he was a security blanket she was clinging to. Relinquishing Arch like he was a heavy suitcase she could put down. Relinquishing Arch like he was the string of a balloon she could just let go. She thought of her kids: Garrett with the urn of ashes on his dresser, Winnie in the raggedy Princeton sweatshirt. But was it that simple? When the ashes were scattered and the sweatshirt doffed, would the pain go away? Would Arch be gone, finally? And what about the word
attach
? Would she attach to David like a barnacle on his boat? Like they were two subway cars hooked together? Relinquish and attach; what Kara was talking about was the flow of energy in opposite directions. Beth twisted her diamond ring, then realized she was keeping Kara waiting.

“I’m not sure,” Beth said.

“You have mourning yet to do,” Kara said. “Grief to process. You’ve been through a lot, Beth.”

“I know. I think about it all the time.”

“Well, don’t do too much thinking,” Kara said. “Remember what I told you before you left: less thinking and more doing. Hug your kids. Walk the beach. Pick flowers. Appreciate the moment.”

“Pick flowers,” Beth repeated. Those damn purple cosmos! “Thanks, Kara.”

“Call me whenever you need me,” Kara said. “The kids, too.”

“Okay,” Beth said. “ ’Bye.”

She hung up and hurried across Federal Street to her car. She felt vaguely criminal, like she’d smoked marijuana or trespassed on private property, and she had to remind herself that what she’d done was perfectly legal. She’d just made a phone call.

At noon, Beth left the house for a run. It was hot outside, which suited her just fine. She wanted to sweat, she wanted to punish herself. She couldn’t believe she’d had the guts to tell Kara Schau about David. She thought again about Kara’s words:
It is very difficult, if not impossible, to relinquish and attach at the same time.
Like trying to drink wine while standing on her head. Like trying to raise a flag in a hurricane. The next time she saw David, she would repeat Kara’s line. And what would David say? That they had beaten odds before. They kept their love alive over six long winters. Every year at the end of August when Beth left Nantucket, she cried all the way back to her family’s house in New Jersey. Her mother was kind, offering new clothes for school, reciting the names of Beth’s friends whom she would see again after three months away.
We’ll have a party!
Beth’s father said.
You’ll forget about that boy before you know it.
But Beth never forgot. She and David wrote letters, they talked on the telephone at Christmas, and once they were at college—he at UMass/Amherst and she at Sarah Lawrence— they visited each other.

Nothing was like the summertime, though. The warm days at the beach, driving David’s Jeep to Coatue, getting munched by mosquitoes when they sailed his Sunfish on Coskata Pond. Spending rainy days reading magazines at the Athenuem, skinny-dipping at the Sankaty Beach Club late at night. Dancing at the Chicken Box, back when it still had a dirt floor. Once a summer splurging on dinner at the Galley at Cliffside Beach where everyone applauded when the sun went down. Standing on Horizon’s deck looking at the stars while Beth’s brothers whistled out their bedroom windows. Driving to the beach at night to kiss, grope, and finally make love in the sand.

They had loved each other so completely. The last summer they were together, David rented a cottage on Bear Street, and everything grew more serious. They practically lived together. Beth invented a fictional friend from Sarah Lawrence—Olivia Marsh—whose parents owned a summer house. Several times a week, Beth told her parents she was spending the night at Olivia’s house, and because there was no phone at Horizon, and no phone at Olivia’s parents’ cottage, her mother never checked on her. Beth and David cooked meals, they lit a fire if it was chilly, they made love in the bed and fell asleep intertwined.

Beth didn’t want to think any further. She couldn’t. She was running down Hummock Pond Road towards Cisco Beach and she decided to take a left onto Ahab Drive, the road where David lived. This was a very stupid move, Beth knew. This was counterproductive. She wanted to stay away from David! But David wouldn’t be home. He was at work, and he ate lunch on the job. The last place she would be likely to see David was here on Ahab Drive. Peyton had camp until four; Piper was away.

Beth had been to the house the one time for the cocktail party, and then several times these past two weeks, but only as far as the driveway. As she ran past the house, she waved.
Hello, David’s house.
She glimpsed the manicured front lawn and the flagstone walk where she’d caught the heel of her sandal as she was leaving the cocktail party.

Beth jogged to the end of the street. The roads in this development all wound back into each other somehow, but Beth wasn’t sure exactly how, and so she returned past David’s house. It was a nice property, she thought. An actual house rather than a summer cottage like Horizon. It had heat, insulation, a garage. Without thinking, Beth ran into the gravel driveway. It was as if her feet weren’t connected to her brain. All Beth could do was narrate to Kara Schau in her mind.

I went inside David’s house when he wasn’t home. The door was open. I knew it would be. I wanted to look around.

The house was neat. The kitchen was painted bright blue and there was a package of hamburger defrosting on the counter. There were photographs on the refrigerator—of the girls and David mostly, but some of Rosie. I wasn’t surprised because Rosie is still the girls’ mother, she’s still part of their life as a family. It bugged me a little that Rosie was so beautiful in the pictures—the long hair and the long legs like Piper. And the stomach and ass like she never gave birth to one child, much less two. I spent a fair amount of time studying the pictures of Rosie. Then I went upstairs to David’s bedroom. His bed was made. He had a copy of the
New Yorker
on the nightstand. That caught my eye because I was reading the same issue, and then I wondered if he’d bought it because he knew I had read it.

I went into his bathroom, and this was when I began to wonder if I was losing my mind. What was I doing snooping around David’s house? I found a framed picture of Rosie and David on their wedding day. The picture was sitting on top of a small bureau and a reflection of the picture was in the bathroom mirror, which was how I noticed it. David looked so young. He was my David, but he had his arm wrapped around Rosie’s tiny waist. They both looked very tan and very happy. The picture made me strangely jealous. I was in Manhattan the summer they got married, the summer after David and I split, and I felt as if Rosie had somehow snatched away what was mine—though of course that wasn’t the case. Without thinking twice, I flipped the picture down.

Then I heard a noise downstairs and I nearly leapt out the window. A man yelled out, “UPS!” So I jogged down the stairs and there was the nice UPS boy holding out a manila envelope. He said, “Mrs. Ronan?” And I
nodded. He showed me where to sign.
Elizabeth Ronan.

Beth left shortly thereafter and ran home thinking,
Forgive me, Arch. I am sicker than I thought.

That night, she bought lobsters for dinner. She lugged the big cooking pot up from the basement, she melted a pound of butter, quartered lemons, and shucked some early corn.

“We’re going to do it right,” she said to Marcus and Winnie when they came up the stairs from the beach. “Lobster dinner.”

Marcus eyed the dark creatures suspiciously as they lumbered across the counter. “They’re still alive.”

Winnie’s forehead crinkled. “She’s going to boil them alive. They scream. I’ve heard them.”

“They do not scream,” Beth said. “This is a treat. A luxury. Where’s your brother?”

“Upstairs in his room, moping,” Winnie said. “He spent the afternoon writing Piper a letter. I told him that by the time he mailed it, she’d be home. He said it’s for her to read when she gets back.”

“You shouldn’t give your brother a hard time,” Beth said. “It’s nice that he found a friend.”

“He said you’re taking him to get his license tomorrow,” Winnie said. “True?”

“True,” Beth said. “Does that bother you? Do you want to take your driver’s test, too? You haven’t practiced much.”

“I’m not ready yet,” Winnie said. “I’d fail.”

“Dinner’s in thirty minutes,” Beth said. As she set the table with the lobster crackers and plastic bibs and butter warmers, she thought about how, at heart, she didn’t want Garrett to get his driver’s license. Once the word “accident” popped into her brain, it was impossible to stop worrying. Another horrible accident. But the good news was that when Garrett got his license, Beth wouldn’t have to see David as often. In fact, she might not see him at all.

I’m sicker than I thought.

Beth dropped the lobsters into the boiling water, then left the kitchen, in case they did scream.