Undertow (17 page)

I remember arriving at her home when I was only five years old. I thought I’d moved into a castle. She took me in and bought me a whole new wardrobe and enrolled me at the Magnolia School with Meg. She opened a new world to me full of refined tastes and experiences. Since I’ve gotten back for the summer, I’ve pretty much just hung around the house with her.

Occasionally, I’ll walk down to the shore, but mostly I wait. Wait for the days to pass and fall to come.

I was at the beach reading a book when Bill stopped by for an unexpected visit. The last time I’d seen him was when I’d visited Meg and Will at Christmas.

“What brings you to Port Hogan?” I said. “I thought you were taking classes nonstop.”

“Heard you were back,” he said, that serious expression on his face as always. “Miss Stella said you were down here.”

Bill never visited me, and I had to confess, the suspense was killing me. “So what’s up?”

He flopped down on the sand beside me. “How’s art school going?”

“Really?” I creased my brow. “You’re here to talk about art school?”

He looked down at his hands and shook his head. “No, I was just wondering if you were happy there or if you thought you might move back home.”

I exhaled a laugh. “I didn’t expect you to miss me so much.”

“I have reasons for asking.”

I took a deep breath before answering. “Truthfully? I don’t expect to be moving home for a while, if ever. Why?”

“I just know Meg misses you.” He looked up at me with those bright blue eyes of his. “She’s been hanging out with Winifred Hayes, and that woman is a damned nuisance.”

I laughed. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say a word about Meg’s friends. She must be pretty bad.”

He looked back down, and I watched him slide a finger through the sand. “Will you be home all summer?”

I nodded. “At least another month or so.”

“Maybe you and Meg could get together. Get her away from her new friend.”

I sat up fast and dusted my palms together. “Why don’t you talk to Meg about this yourself? I mean, she is your wife now. This is the kind of thing husbands and wives talk about with each other.”

“I’m not interested in arguing with her over her friends.”

“You don’t have to argue.”

He sat up and assessed my little beach camp. “What are you doing out here? Reading?”

“Trying to, but there’s so much talking.”

He frowned, but I laughed. “You want me to call Meg and invite her out?” I asked.

“How about you come over for dinner Friday? She’s inviting those two, and you can see what I’m talking about.”

“Are you inviting me to dinner Friday?” I teased. “We really have grown closer.”

He stood all the way up then, dusting off his pants. “I’m sure Meg’ll say something about it when you call her. Our house at seven.”

“I’ll see you then.”

I watched him walk back to his truck waiting at Mrs. Stella’s house. I’d never really understood Bill Kyser, but he was turning out to be okay. When we were in school, I’d given him a hard time about his big plan, but mostly it was just something I did.

I don’t want to see high-rises taking over our hometown, but I don’t really think stopping Bill is going to keep them from coming. Those developers have been marching their way from Panama City westward for years, snatching up undeveloped tracts of sand and stabbing in towering concrete masses everywhere you look.

I just started riding Bill about his plan one day and never seemed to quit. Maybe I could change that. I guess I’m more sensitive to people’s feelings since mine have taken it on the chin.

I gave Meg a call and got on the guest list for that dinner.

Aug. 1, 19--

August at last! I’m back in Savannah.

Sorry you got neglected, Journal. What did I not write down?

Oh! That dinner with Meg and Bill was actually fun. I totally got what Bill was saying about Winnie and Travis Hayes. And what kind of name is Winifred anyway? Those people were too much, and I was sorry Meg was left with only that type of superficial “friend” to spend her time.

Saying goodbye to her had been hard. Even little Will cried when I left, which naturally made me cry. We had been together nonstop after that dinner. I’d painted Will’s portrait, and Meg had said she was going to have it framed and put in his room in their little cottage. I told her I’d paint her another, bigger one of him when they finished their house on the island.

Now, finally, I’m back at school. Suzanne’s back as well, but she only brought a small suitcase and isn’t moving in. When she told me why, my heart broke. She landed an internship at a big advertising agency in Atlanta, and I have to find a new roommate after the first week of classes.

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me like this,” I said. “Who will I go to for advice on my love life?”

“You say that as if you’ve ever listened to anything I told you,” she smirked, tossing an arm over my shoulders.

“I listened. It’s just, sometimes I have to do some trial and error work, that’s all.”

“You should look up Evan,” she said, placing her head against mine. “He’s back, and the summer months were very good to him.”

I sighed. “Evan’s nice, but he wasn’t too thrilled when I cut things off abruptly last fall.”

She smiled and gave me a squeeze before releasing me. “As pretty as you are, I think you could change his mind if you wanted.”

“Besides, I’m still with Nick,” I said, trying to be positive. “I can’t go chasing after somebody else when I’m still seeing him.”

She gave me a skeptical look. “And have you seen the narcoleptic professor yet?”

I pushed her arm. “Stop calling him that. No, I haven’t made it to his office yet, but I’m planning to give him a call in a few days.”

“A few days? If you guys are so together, what are you waiting for?”

I looked down. “I was hoping he might call me first.”

“Oh, Alex. You’re hopeless.”

I didn’t need her to tell me that.

Aug. 25, 19--

Several days did go by, and I never heard from Nick. I called and left a few messages, but he never returned my calls. I decided to chalk it up to the craziness of getting back in town from a trip abroad and preparing for the start of classes, but I was getting a sick feeling in my gut.

School was in session, and this year I’d signed up for figure drawing. I knew the instructor Ms. Finch shared Nick’s room, and that had been part of my motivation for taking the class. Now I was dreading getting there, but I had to face this sooner or later. I decided to make it sooner and arrived early.

My heart stopped when I saw him. There he was, his shaggy dark hair swept back, his long elegant hands spanning a finished piece as he made a point about color or composition on the canvass. I could hear the vibration of his voice, and I leaned my head against the door frame watching him through the glass. He was dressed in his usual blazer and jeans, and I imagined sliding my hands up his body underneath them. I wished we could blow off classes and spend the afternoon catching up.

It was very selfish of me to begrudge him a trip to study with a master painter. Now he could show me all he’d learned, and it would be like I’d gone and studied with a master too.

I tore my eyes off him to survey the new class of students. Freshmen. They were so bright-eyed and chubby-cheeked. The excitement and nervousness of not knowing what to expect and not wanting to fail was plain on their faces, and in some of the eyes I recognized my own first-year infatuation with this handsome instructor who stood there holding the keys to all things art.

Nick stepped down from the platform to make his way around the room. I remembered his way of checking each canvass and offering constructive criticism. His tips were usually helpful and not petty or small the way some art instructors’ were. I saw him pat a male student on the back, and then he stopped at the canvass of a pretty blonde female. He pointed to the top of the canvass and then turned to look at her. He smiled. He turned back to stand beside her and look at her work. His hand went down and lightly rested on her lower back…

“Alex, you’re here!”

I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of Evan’s voice. I turned quickly, putting my back against the wall outside the classroom, and noticed Suzanne was right, he had changed. He’d filled out or something. His shoulders seemed broader, but I couldn’t care. I couldn’t see anything except Nick caressing that pretty blonde student.

“Are you feeling okay?” Evan’s brow creased. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head and looked down. “I was just early for my next class. How was your summer?”

“No complaints here,” he said. Then he leaned past me to look through the window. “Looks like Professor Slimeball’s found his newest Freshmeat. Can you believe that guy?”

I blinked. “Who? Professor Parker?”

“He’s infamous. It’s the same game every year,” Evan groaned. “Finds some unsuspecting freshman to hook up with then ditches her just in time for summer break. Asshole. Didn’t he try that shit with you last year?”

My stomach felt like it was lurching. “Yeah,” I said. “We went out a few times.”

“Well, good thing you’re smarter than that.” Evan placed his arm across my shoulder, but he was right. I did feel like I was going to puke. “So I was thinking, we never seemed to make a connection last year. Maybe we could try again? You up for grabbing some lunch with me sometime?”

I had to get away from Evan and this building and the stench of old walls and molding paint before I lost my breakfast. “I gotta go, Evan. I’ll see ya around.”

I turned and fled back to my room as the tears started streaming down my face. I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. I’d waited all summer to get back and throw my arms around him and tell him how much I’d missed him. I’d laid awake nights sweating in the heat and humidity of Miss Stella’s poorly insulated old home thinking of him and wondering if he missed the touch of my hands and the feel of my lips as much as I missed his.

I was such a fool.

My apartment was empty, and I threw myself on the bed to cry until I had no more tears left. Hours later, Suzanne came home. She only had a few days before she moved to Atlanta, and I didn’t know what I’d do without her.

“Alex? You here?” I was curled in a ball in the center of my bed listening to her bang through the door. “What’s up?” she called.

I rolled over to look at her, not even sure if I wanted to talk yet. I shook my head.

“Oh my God!” She crossed the room to me quickly. “You’re a wreck! What happened?”

My voice sounded almost feral as I wept out the answer. “I saw Nick.”

“And?” she urged.

“And nothing. I didn’t even speak to him. He was teaching a class and then he went and started touching this blonde girl.”

“Touching? What do you mean? Like he was feeling her up?”

“No, he put his hand on her back.”

Suzanne shook her head. “I’m lost. Have you been back here crying all day because you saw Mr. Parker put his hand on another girl’s back? Don’t you think that’s overreacting a bit?”

I sniffed, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “It’s the way he put his hand on her back. Down low like he used to do mine.”

She slumped back. “Well, did you talk to him about it? Did you at least stop in and ask about Paris?”

I rolled over and put my face in the pillow. “No. I saw Evan first.”

“And yeah, right? Evan wins ‘most improved male student’ this year.”

I shook my head, face still in the pillow. “I don’t know. He looked different I guess, but it was more what he said.”

“Which was?”

“That Nick does this every year. He picks up with some new ‘fresh-meat’ and then dates her until summer break. Just like he did with me.”

Suzanne pressed her lips together. “You have to confront him.”

“I don’t want to confront him. I want to die.”

But my roommate was getting mad. She stood and started pacing our small apartment. “You have to go in and act like nothing happened and give him the chance to either say it was nothing or break up with you. You can’t just throw in the towel over a potential misunderstanding.”

“You think it was a misunderstanding?” My voice rose a bit.

“I think you need to find out.”

Suzanne was right, although I knew in the pit of my stomach this was going to go badly. “He hasn’t returned any of my calls,” I said. “Don’t you think that means something?”

“It might, or it might not. What if his phone’s not working?”

“I never took you as an optimist.”

“And I never took you as a quitter.”

Aug. 30, 19--

So here’s how it all went down, Journal. Today I left early again for class, and while he wrapped up his lecture, I slipped into Nick’s office before he saw me. As the students were leaving, I saw him talking to the blonde freshman again, but I decided to stay put and focus on Suzanne’s words. I was no quitter.