Page 54 of On Fire Island

thirty-one

Accountable

Dylan texted Matty from the ticket booth in Bay Shore with fair warning.

Tuck is on the 12:00 ferry!

Matty didn’t even realize he had said it out loud and looked up to find ten men staring up at him.

Matty and Renee were on better terms now, but she agreed that he could keep staying over at our place for the rest of August. He had heard his mother crying herself to sleep enough times over the past year to appreciate the perpetual smile on her face, even if the way it got there made him want to retch.

Now he faced a predicament. Why was his father surprising them? And should he let him be the one surprised? There was a good reason Matty always texted, knocked, and yelled “I’m here!” before venturing into his house across the street these days. Even I entered with caution. Part of him wanted his father to experience the same humiliation he had inflicted on him and his mother. In that way, the drummer was the perfect pawn.

As if reading his mind, Ben said, “You know what, Matty? You are not the adult here. This is not your problem.”

More good advice from my man. I was proud. The other guys agreed, piping in with “give him a taste of his own medicine” and such. They all held a grudge. There were plenty of men who couldn’t play ball well and came out all season and tried, just because they enjoyed it. The regulars were usually pretty nice about it. Only Tuck would barely show all year and then insist on playing in the Homeowners’ Game. Plus, they all deeply cared for Renee—some of them had known her forever.

Just as the last inning of the game was wrapping up, Tuck appeared. He was dressed like a Hamptonite in Moscot frames, a Canali linen shirt, and Tod’s driving loafers. The contrast between him and the guys on the field was comical. Everyone noticed, but of course Shep went for the joke.

“Pardon me, sir, would you have any Grey Poupon?”

Matty held in his laughter and hugged his dad hello. As much as he didn’t want to be involved in the upcoming drama, he was clearly in the best position to steer the boat.

“Is Mom home?” Tuck asked, ignoring Shep.

The look on Matty’s face confirmed that he didn’t know how to answer. Ben stepped in.

“Why don’t you come visit with us first—game’s nearly done and Little Les sent over some turkey sandwiches for lunch.”

I know I’m making Les sound like Emeril Lagasse but no one could resist his turkey sandwiches. A few summers ago, he was helicoptered off the island for a medical emergency. The surgeon, known as the premier in his field, asked, “I have operated on rock stars, top athletes, even kings. I got more phone calls about you today than any of them. What do you do?”

To which Little Les answered, “I make a good sandwich.”

Tuck couldn’t resist either.

The four men sat around the porch table eating the local delicacies right off the paper they were wrapped in. A bag of chips lay open between them, just a few inches from an empty bowl. It made me cringe. How hard would it be to pour them in?

Matty kicked Ben under the table and excused himself to go to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of sight, Ben did the dirty deed.

“So, Tuck. What is it you want to see Renee about?”

“Umm. I don’t know, really. I ummm...”

Shep lost patience with him, if he ever had any to begin with.

“Spit it out, man.”

“I miss my family. I think I made a mistake.”

Ben and Shep both sat back in their chairs. Shep opened his mouth to speak, but Ben grabbed his forearm to stop him.

“I got this.”

Shep reluctantly agreed.

“Renee is seeing someone—he’s kind of living in the house with her.”

Tuck’s face dropped in shock, until Ben added, “Matty has been staying here.”

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