Page 22 of Surfside Sisters

That was what her father thought she was doing.

Keely was on the floor, weeping. She stuffed her old teddy bear’s arm in her mouth to stifle the sounds of her sobs. Hope about Sebastian was a ship on the horizon, sailing out of sight. Without it, Keely was alone, on the empty island that was her life. She felt about Sebastian the way Isabelle felt about Tommy—hebelongedto her. But the truth was, her feelings, her silly adolescent infatuation, didn’t matter at all.

She increased the volume on her music—Enya, whose songs were mystical and full of courage. Keely let the music pour through her, wash her clean, surround her with light. She played the same CD over and over again. She wept for hours, until she was afraid she would vomit, until her eyes burned, until her head ached, until her heart was empty.

She stood up. She was exhausted. She clicked off the music and fell on her bed. Sleep bathed her in a pool of calm.

That evening, she showered and dressed and went with her father to the O’Reillys’. They had a twelve-year-old girl who adored Keely, which was both cute and irritating. Keely forced herself to be “normal,” pleasant, polite.

When Keely and her father went home, Keely went straight to her room and shut the door.

Later, her father tapped lightly on her bedroom door.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad. Just tired.”

A moment of silence. “Call me if you need anything. I’m just watching football.”

“I will. Thanks, Dad.”

Keely heard him walk away and thought what a good father he was. He was present for her, and he was sensitive, not intruding on her when she hid in her room. He was a good man, her father. He was solid, sound, strong. Someday perhaps Keely would meet her own good man. Until then, she would channel every drop of pain and sadness into her writing. She would make good grades, great grades, she would focus on getting a scholarship, she would get off this island and go to college and out into the real world.

—

The summer before their senior year, Isabelle went with her parents to Australia, and so—Keely learned from Isabelle’s emails—did Sebastian. Isabelle texted that Sebastian hadn’t brought a girlfriend along.

For Keely, it was just another summer. She cleaned houses and babysat and read and wrote. She wasn’t unhappy—okay, she was. She was still sick at heart about Sebastian, about what they could have had. But the knowledge that she had only one more year of high school was like an open door in a flooded room. Soon, in one quick whoosh, she would be out in the world. She would meet many men more interesting than Sebastian.

When she had free time, she went out fishing with her father or picnicking on the beach with her friends. Toward the end of the summer, she went with her parents to look at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. It was a sprawling campus that seemed as big as a town to Keely. But it had an excellent creative writing program, and this was her first choice. Maybe her only choice, because she would have to get a scholarship.

The Maxwells returned home at the end of August. Keely and Isabelle talked on the phone, but before they had a chance to see each other, Isabelle’s parents whisked her off to tour colleges. Keely had no idea where Sebastian was. To her own private shame, she drove by the Maxwell house one evening when she knew Isabelle and her parents were off-island. Keely wanted to see if there were lights on in the house. There weren’t.

—

Their senior year was intense and emotional. Keely focused on getting good grades in all her classes, but she was aware of a new tension in the senior class, a sense of importance and anticipation shadowed by the looming knowledge that this was their last year in this particular building with these particular people.

While everyone else was partying, Keely was studying. She wanted to get all A’s. Sheneededthat scholarship. In early December, when she had dozens of job offers to babysit and even more invitations to parties, her father had what her mother insisted on calling aminorheart attack. Keely spent much of the Christmas season traveling with her father and mother to Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. Her father was tested and diagnosed and given three different types of medications to bring down his blood pressure and slow his hardworking heart. After only one night in the hospital, George Green and his wife and daughter began the trip home, this time hiring a driver instead of taking the bus to Hyannis, spending two nights at the Hyannis Holiday Inn because a blizzard kept the ferries from running, and finally bumping home on the fast ferry. Keely’s father had pills and orders to slow down, to stop working so hard. It was a scare, Keely’s mother said, but it was not the end of the world.

No, it was not the end of the world, but it was pretty much the end of any social life Keely wanted. On New Year’s Eve, she babysat instead of going to the fabulous dance party the seniors held in the school gym. She needed the money, especially since her father wasn’t working full-time. She didn’t want her father worrying about money for her. When she wasn’t at school or babysitting, she spent as much time as possible watching sports on television with him.

“You don’t have to check on me, Keely,” her father told her. “I’m fine.”

“I know that. But I want to watch the Patriots, too.”

When her mother returned from work, Keely talked with her in the kitchen, giving her mother a report on how her father had seemed during those few hours. Her mother promised her that if he followed his doctor’s orders, George Green would be fine. Keely wanted a written guarantee.

By February, they knew where they were going to college. Miraculously, Keely was given a full scholarship to the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. Isabelle was attending Smith, where Gloria Steinem, Julia Child, and the poet Sylvia Plath had gone. Tommy also chose UMass. The two institutions of higher learning—of course people joked about the “high”—were within a few miles of each other. Buses could take you to Northampton, the hub.

Sebastian would be nearby, too, at Amherst College. Keely didn’t expect to see him. She knew he was still involved with Ebba.

—

At last, it was May. The students lined up in the room next to the auditorium. Twenty-six graduating seniors. Most of them had known each other since preschool. They were about to be set free from the captivity of law-mandated classes. Some were leaving immediately for the military or for jobs or for trips. One girl, Brioni, would be leaving to have a baby; her gown covered her swollen belly. Keely and Isabelle grumbled that this rite of passage was juvenile, almost embarrassing, but they shook with nerves and kept blinking back tears.

From the front of the room Mr. Carpenter, the vice principal, gave the order to fall in line. He opened the door. The class of 2008 processed onto the stage. Cameras flashed. The audience murmured. Jenny Perry, the valedictorian, spoke. Keely had never liked Jenny, but she couldn’t keep from silently weeping. The other girls around her were crying, too. Tim Madden, the Cape and island state representative, gave a brief, inspiring speech. The principal stood to hand out the diplomas. The class rose.

Keely walked to the front of the stage to accept her diploma, and from then on, time blurred. How long did she spend hugging and kissing her classmates? Jimmy Jordan, a year younger and the most handsome guy in school, walked up to Keely, said, “If I don’t do it now, I never will,” and kissed Keely so thoroughly her knees went weak.

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