Nantucket Red (Nantucket Blue) (13 page)

Thirty-one

ON MY BIRTHDAY, I WOKE UP EARLY
to the chiming of the bells from the gold-domed tower of the nearby church. Liz brought me, on a tray with a pitcher of cream, a piping hot cup of coffee, which I sipped on the hammock in the garden. The morning was balmy and sweet with the scent of freshly mowed grass and blooming gardens. The air hummed an August tune. Mom called to tell me the story of the day I was born. Dad called a few minutes later and sang “Happy Birthday” into the phone and promised a back-to-school shopping trip when I came home.

When each of them asked me how the summer was going, I felt a pinch of guilt replying, “Fine.” I didn’t tell either of them about getting arrested or about my day in court. It’s not like they read the
Inquirer and Mirror
, and Paul Morgan had sworn secrecy, so they were unlikely ever to find out. Everything had ended up just fine, so why not wait to tell them until I was much older and we could laugh about the whole thing? Right now it would only have needlessly worried and disappointed them.

Jules picked me up in her graduation Jeep with Lulu the stuffed pig in the backseat. We drove to the island airport, where Jules had promised they served the best breakfast on the island. We both ordered waffles, of course, and big bowls of cappuccino with extra foam, and guessed about the lives of the travelers coming and going with their rolling luggage and Vera Bradley bags. Jules covered Lulu’s ears when she asked for a side of bacon. When our cappuccinos arrived, I luxuriated in the knowledge that I wouldn’t have to clean the machine that produced them.

On our way back into town, my phone dinged with a text. It was Ben, wishing me a friendly “
happy birthday!
”
and I texted back a friendly “
thanks!
” I was happy to hear from Ben, but at the same time, it reminded me that I hadn’t heard from Zack and probably wouldn’t. He hadn’t texted me after I’d been arrested, so why would he contact me on my birthday?

“Hey, cheer up,” Jules said as she parked in front of Needle and Thread, the fancy Main Street boutique where she worked. “We’re going to go shopping. I’m going to let you use my employee discount.”

“But I thought you’d get fired if you let your friends use your discount,” I said.

“The boss is in New York,” Jules said. “I’ll just say I bought it for myself.”

As soon as we stepped into the store, Jules started chatting up her coworker, Jennie. I spied a red bikini.

“What do you think?” I asked when I stepped out of the dressing room.

“Hot,” Jules said.

“Red hot,” Jennie echoed.

“It’s actually kind of conservative,” I said, turning around in front of the three-way mirror, noting its full coverage of boobs and butt and the innocent bows at the hips.

“But that’s what makes it hot,” Jules said. “It leaves something to the imagination. It’s asking the world,
Good girl or bad girl
?
” She stood behind me, took out my ponytail, and shook my hair over my shoulders.

“Girls can be both,” I said.

“Of course. We women are very complex.”

“Guys are, too,” I said, thinking of Zack, so sweet one day and so harsh the next.

“Yes, humankind is full of contradictions. We could write a thesis, but I’d rather go to the beach,” Jules said. “So I’m buying you this red bikini.”

“Jules, are you sure?” I asked.

But she had already clipped the tags and was whispering with Jennie at the cash register.

“You girls want to sit next to Zack and Parker, right?” the cabana boy asked when Jules and I made our way down the boardwalk, she in Nina’s black bathing suit and I in my brand-new red bikini. He picked up two blue recliners and nodded to the left. “They’re right there.”

I shook my head.

“Actually, I think we’ll sit over there,” Jules said, pointing to the opposite end of the beach. “As far away as possible.”

“You invited Parker?” I asked Jules. The sand was soft and deep and still morning-cool as we walked down the beach, the cabana boy trailing a few feet behind us with our chairs. “On my birthday?”

“She belongs here,” Jules said under her breath. “I can’t tell her not to come here. Her family practically owns this place. Even on your birthday.”

“Oh.” She had a point. I looked over my shoulder. Parker was stretched on a recliner in an aquamarine cover-up that looked expensive even from here; one leg dangled as she read a magazine. Zack was sitting next to her in the sand on his Tropicana towel, reading a book. What was he reading? What was he thinking? Did he remember it was my birthday? Did he know we were coming?

Jules thanked the cabana boy as he set up our chairs, then turned to me. “Besides, what do you care that she’s here? You look amazing.” She flapped her hand at me. “Text your bartender. Tell him to join us.”

“Okay.” I sent Ben a text. I looked back up at Jules and felt a wave of affection. She was back. My best friend was really back. Ben replied immediately. “He’ll be here in an hour,” I said.

As usual, Jules and I couldn’t sit still for long. After about ten minutes of sunbathing, we started tossing the Frisbee. When that became boring, we challenged ourselves to take a step back with every successful connection. Then we had to incorporate a funny dance into either the catch or the release. We switched it up to see how deep we could go in the water and still complete the pass. This was one of the things I loved best about Jules. She was always in motion. Wearing Nina’s black bikini, she looked like her mother, but only in repose. She moved like her own girl.

I caught Zack staring in our direction a few times, but every time I returned his glances, he looked away. Ben arrived. “Look at you!” he said when he saw me in my new suit. He joined in our Frisbee game, and Zack started openly staring. And then, when we were playing Monkey in the Middle and Ben tackled me, Zack actually came over. Parker followed, arms crossed as her aquamarine cover-up billowed out behind her in the breeze.

“Are you guys going to play?” Jules asked.

“I am,” Zack said, taking off his T-shirt. His body. So familiar. Mine, I thought.

“I’m just going to watch,” Parker said in her husky, party-girl voice. Now that she was in front of me, I noticed she didn’t
look so good. Her Grecian-style cover-up made her elegant from a distance, but up close, something was off. There was a
hollowness in her eyes, a sallowness to her skin. It looked like she needed protein, a cheeseburger, maybe. Or at least some blush. But who needed blush on a perfect summer day?

“So what are we playing?” Zack asked.

“Frisbee football,” Jules said. “You see where that seaweed is? That’s one end zone. And the other one is over here.” She jogged down the beach away from kids, babies, and fancy people under umbrellas, and drew a line in the sand by dragging her heel, placing a piece of driftwood at one end and a bunch of seaweed at the other. “It’s me and Zack versus Cricket and Ben.”

“This is like Ultimate,” Ben said.

“Basically,” Jules said, “but tackling is allowed.”

“Hee-haw!” Ben said.

“We’re on the same team,” I reminded him.

“Oh, yeah,” Ben said.

“Are we going to let the birthday girl win?” Zack asked. So he did remember.

“No way,” I said. “Play your heart out.”

“So you can pivot but not run with the disk,” Jules said. “If it gets intercepted or you don’t complete the pass, it goes to the other team. The first team to get three points wins. Cricket, since it is your birthday, you get the first pass. Zack, if you let me down, your ass is grass.”

“Shut up, Jules,” Zack said, and tossed the disk to me, fast, hard, and direct, and I caught it with one hand.

“Damn,” Ben muttered under his breath. “Girl can catch.”

“Girl can also throw,” I said with a smile as we backtracked to our end zone. “Go long.” I released the disk in a perfect, sailing arc. Ben leapt into the air and caught it. Jules tried to guard him, but Ben was agile, and with one sharp pivot, he tossed it back to me. Zack was all over me, but wasn’t taking advantage of the tackle rule.

“Go, Zack,” Parker called from the sidelines.

I saw Ben was in the zone, so I tried a skip shot, and sure enough, it briefly touched the ground and bounced. Ben caught it, raised it over his head, and whopped.

“One–zip,” I called.

Jules and Zack conferenced before they mounted their counterattack.

“Come on Zacky,” Parker called as she clapped.

My stomach flipped. Zacky. Bleccch!

Jules and Zack advanced toward us in a series of short passes, but I intercepted one and tossed it to Ben, who pivoted and tossed it back to me, and we scored again. It was almost too easy.

“It’s not looking good, guys,” I said, a little breathless as I passed the disk to Jules.

“But you are,” Ben said, bumping hips with me. Zack looked like he was going to be sick.

“Time out,” Jules said. “Zack, get your ass over here.” That was the other thing I loved about Jules. She was seriously competitive. Ben and I drifted toward the water for our own little huddle.

“You’re good,” Ben said, and took a quick dunk. As he stood up again, the water slid down his body.

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” I said, wading into the water with him.

“Tell me what?” he asked, pulling me toward him for a kiss.

“I’m a lot better at sports than I am at waitressing.” We kissed, lightly, tastefully.

“Let’s do this,” Zack said, clapping his hands.

“I want to play now,” Parker said, stepping out of her gossamer cover-up. Her horse-jumping legs didn’t seem as rock-strong as usual. She was thinner than I remembered.

“We can’t have three against two,” Jules said.

“We can handle it,” Ben said.

“Yeah, bring it on,” I said.

“Okay, then,” Jules called. “You cocky bastards.”

“The literary term is
hubris
,” Zack added.

“Call it whatever you want. We just say ‘kicking ass,
’
” Ben said.

Zack whispered something to Jules and she nodded. Then she flung the disk way out into the Nantucket Sound. I could barely see it.

“What the hell?” Parker asked as Zack started swimming for it, a little leisurely, I thought.

“What are you waiting for?” Jules asked me. “That bikini is made to move.”

I dove into the sound and swam hard. Zack was now doing the backstroke, so it wasn’t hard to gain on him. Besides, the current was pushing the disk in my direction. I was actually going to beat him to it if he didn’t pick up the pace. He was practically treading water.

“Cricket,” he said, as we grabbed the disk at the same time. I was completely out of breath. “Put your feet down. We’re at the sandbar.”

I touched the soft sand with my feet. I knew my face was bright red with exertion. I coughed up some water and gave myself a chance to catch my breath. I was about to jerk that disk from his hand and turn back to shore when he yanked it from my hand instead. He pushed it underwater and stood on it.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to talk to you. Alone.” He looked back at the shore, where Parker, Jules, and Ben were watching us.

“How are you?” he asked quietly.

“I’m okay,” I said in disbelief. “I mean, besides the fact that I was arrested and had to go to court.”

“You must’ve been so scared,” Zack said, touching my arm underwater.

“What are you doing out there?” Parker called from the shore.

“We’re looking for it!” Zack called back.

“I’ll help you,” Parker said.

“I was so scared,” I searched his green eyes. “I texted you.”

“I know,” he said, taking my hand. Parker was swimming toward us, fast. “I couldn’t text you back, but I wanted to tell you how much that night meant to me. I know we were drunk and you got arrested, but other than that, I loved it.”

“Other than that,” I said, laughing. His eyes softened.
He’d said “love.”

“Happy birthday, Cricket,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I’m trying to be a good person right now. I’m trying to do the right thing. You have to trust me.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Do you love that guy?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Do you love her?” I hated that we were tossing
that word
around like the Frisbee he was currently standing on. We’d only used
that word
when we truly meant it.

“I’m protecting her,” he said. “I owe it to her.”

“But you don’t owe anything to me?”

Parker popped up. “What’s taking you guys so long?”

Zack and I held each other’s gaze for another breath. There would be no high five, part three. Ever. I dove under, freed the disk, and held it up high. “Found it,” I said, loud enough so they could all hear me.

“Frisbees don’t sink,” Parker was saying as I started back. The salt water disguised my tears as I swam back to where I could throw it to Ben. I was ready to win this game and get out of here.

Thirty-two

AFTER OUR 3
–
0 FRISBEE FOOTBALL VICTORY
, after I’d thanked Jules with a big hug and politely said good-bye to Zack and Parker in the name of sportsmanship, Ben and I left the club holding hands. He said he wanted to take me somewhere. He had to be back at Sadie’s in time to change and get to work, but when he glanced at his watch, he said, “That gives us plenty of time.” I was in my wet bathing suit, a towel around my waist, when Ben told me to take the driver’s seat. I followed his directions out of town to a remote part of the island, down a quiet road. Ben told me that we only had access because Sadie had a special permit as a trustee of the Wildlife Refuge. I drove the whole way, only stalling once. Ben took over when it came to driving on the actual beach. There was hardly anyone out here except for a few fishermen thigh-deep in the gentle, foaming surf.

We parked near a dune, and Ben pulled out a blanket and a cooler from the back of the Land Rover. Then he took my hand and led me over the hill of sand to the perfect hiding spot. We were surrounded by dunes on all sides. He smiled up at me as he spread the blanket out, and I realized he’d brought me there to have sex.

So far, we’d had all of these external obstacles that made sex logistically difficult. I wasn’t about to take him back to the apartment with heartbroken Liz, and he wasn’t going to invite me to spend the night on his grandmother’s sofa. We couldn’t even exchange longing glances at work without risking our jobs. The Land Rover had been our make-out mobile, but even that had its limitations. The seats didn’t recline, and the backseat was boxy and too short in both directions. But that had been okay with me. I liked how if we tried to recline all the way, we’d bump our heads or jam our knees. I liked the obstacles.

But here, in this warm white valley of sand, with the sun burning above us and the lulling waves so close, there were no obstacles, unless you counted the eelgrass, the wild beach roses fretting in the breeze, or the solitary cloud that lay haphazardly at the bottom of the sky. As I joined him on the cool cotton blanket and he gallantly removed my TOMS one by one, I felt myself shaking. I needed to tell him up front how I was feeling.

“I’m not ready to have sex,” I blurted out.

“That’s okay,” he said. “That’s not why I brought you here.”

“Oh, come on,” I said, joke hitting him. “The blanket?”

He laughed a little. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?” He pulled a flask from the little cooler.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“A Bicyclette. Every girl should have a drink. And a Bicyclette is yours, I think. It’s refreshing, spunky, and a little surprising. It’s Italian white wine and your favorite, Campari.”

“Don’t say the C-word!” I said, my mouth cottoning at the
thought. He threw back his head in a laugh, and I noticed the place where the top of his chest met the hollow of his throat.
I wondered what it would be like to have sex with him. I had only ever had sex with Zack. I had only loved Zack.

Maybe I still did love him, I thought, remembering what it had been like to hold his hand the night we’d gotten in trouble, and how as soon as our fingers interlaced the world had clicked into place. I thought of what it had been like to be face to face with him on the sandbar earlier, how I could’ve sworn I still saw love in his green, LASIKed eyes. But no. I remembered what it had felt like when he didn’t text me back after the scariest moment of my life. That had felt like a punch. Love wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” Ben asked and uncapped the frosty metal container. “The Campari and wine work together to create a new flavor, and it whets your appetite. Come on, it’s
your
drink.”

“I’m on probation.”

“One sip,” he said, inching closer.

“I guess if it’s my drink, I should at least try it. One sip.” I brought the cold flask to my lips and drank. Ben was right. It was refreshing, bright, almost startling, but it also had that familiar Campari aftertaste and my stomach clenched.

“Too soon?” he asked.

“How can something so pretty be so bitter?”

“I brought iced tea, too,” he said, and handed me a Nantucket Nectars.

“Yum,” I said, guzzling the sweet drink. He took a long swallow from his drink. Then he touched the cold flask to my shoulder. “You’re burning up. Take this.” He unbuttoned his white shirt, took it off, and handed it to me.

“Now you’ll burn.”

“No, I won’t.” Ben was one of those people with skin that caramelized in the sun.

I put on his shirt. It was soft and worn.

“So what’s the story with that kid?” Ben asked, leaning on an elbow.

“What kid?”

“You know who,” he said, smiling, one hand spidering my kneecap.

“Oh. Zack. We used to…”—I paused, held my breath, and considered—“go out.”

“I could tell,” Ben said, but he didn’t sound jealous. He tilted his head, his eyes asking for more information. I had to look away.

“It’s over now.” I lay back, folded my arms behind my head, closed my eyes. “Just so you know.”

“It’s okay, you know. I don’t expect you not to have ex-boyfriends.” I knew this was meant in a nice way, but I couldn’t help feeling that it was really unromantic.

“What about you? What about Amelia?”

“What do you want to know?” I heard the metal cap hit the flask. I shaded my eyes and peered up. He tilted his head back for a quick drink.

“Just normal, basic stuff. Like, how old is she?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-seven?” I sat up on my elbows.

“Twenty-seven.”

“That’s old! I’m nineteen! Today!”

“I know. But twenty-seven is only eight years away.”

“Well, eight years ago I was eleven,” I pointed out. “So it’s old.”

“Not really.” He laughed. “Anyway, she’s a lawyer.”

“A
lawyer
?” I turned onto my stomach and ran through a quick catalogue in my mind of all the lawyers I knew. Arti’s dad was a lawyer. He had a big Mercedes, a comb-over, and bad breath. My aunt Phyllis was a lawyer for criminals. She was always working. Her hair had turned gray early and Mom said it was because her job stressed her out so much. I thought of the lawyers on TV, dazzling judges and juries with their quick tongues. “Like in a courtroom with a judge? Or in an office with a desk?”

“She doesn’t actually have a job yet, but she passed the bar. Anyway, it’s over now. Just so you know.” He ran a hand down the back of my leg and back up again. I shivered with pleasure. His touch was so light I wasn’t entirely sure he was making contact. I stayed really still, hoping he would press a little harder. “The past is the past, you know? That’s why I’m glad to make a fresh start.”

“So, are you really not moving back to Brooklyn?”

“That’s right,” he said, and his hand moved to the other leg. “Do you want to go for a swim?”

“Not really.” Although I would’ve said it was impossible, his touch became even lighter as his hand drifted farther up, to the very tops of my thighs, and then, just when I was getting used to it, to the backs of my knees. I dug my toes into the sand.

“Do you want to practice driving again?” he asked.

“Maybe later,” I said. His hand was approaching and pulling away and approaching and pulling away. He was tracing, retreating. I wanted to keep the conversation going so he wouldn’t stop. “So, if you aren’t going back to Brooklyn, where are you going to go?”

“Maybe I’ll stay here,” he said.

“I think that would be really lonely. Anyplace else?” I rested my cheek on my forearm and breathed in the smell of herbs and spices. The sun warmed my back. My heart beat against the blanket. There was some sort of magnet in his fingertips, because all of my protons, neutrons, and electrons had sparked awake and were following his lead.

“Maybe I’ll go to California,” he said. “For the surfing. Can you tell what I’m writing?” he asked.

“No.”

“I’m writing a message on your leg.” I heard the flask open, and the next time his finger touched me, it was cold. “Concentrate.” He started on my inner ankle and traveled up to the back of my knee.

Please make this be a long message, I thought, as he continued up my thigh.

“Did you get it?”

“Nope. Try again.”

“Okay, I’m going to go bigger and more slowly and in cursive.”

“Good idea.”

He traced his message again, and my entire body buzzed as he reached the bottom of my bathing suit in what I think was an exclamation point.

“Oh my god,” I said, looking up at him, clutching the blanket.

“What? You got it.”

“Touch me! Right now!”

He slid his hand inside my bikini and moments later the whole world fractured into color and light, like a kaleidoscope, like all wishes granted at the same time. I rested my head on the sand and heard the heartbeat of the whole world. Or maybe it was just mine. I sighed, laughed, and blinked into the lowering sun.