Page 38 of Same Time Next Summer

“It was. But it’s nothing to worry about. We are going to be friends, I think. And I think I forgave him. And he forgave me. I feel like I’ve put down something heavy I was carrying.”

“And that’s it? The whole story?”

“Mostly,” I say.

42

It’s Saturday and it’s our last day on Long Island. For me, this means that tomorrow I’m going back to the city to figure out my life. It makes me a little panicky thinking of the possibility of the rest of the summer without a job, wandering around that hot city alone with absolutely no plan, while Jack keeps crushing his leg day, push day, and successful-doctor routine. I’m also unsettled about Wyatt. We’ve opened the door for some kind of a friendship, but it’s maybe too new to work long-distance.

For my mother, it means that tonight is the last stop on her already successful mission to make Jack love Long Island. At noon she calls the Old Sloop Inn to tell them we’ll be nine for dinner. They inform her that they’ve been booked for a month because the music festival is starting tonight.

She is entirely thrown off by this. It’s not just that her dinner plans have been crushed, it’s more like all of her plans have been crushed. I wonder now if this push for us to get married out here is about much more than the wedding.Maybe, she thinks, if Jack likes it enough, then I’ll start coming back more during the summer. Our wedding is the magic potion that will bring me back to Long Island for good.

I hear my mom on the phone with Travis: “This is a disaster. We have to eat there tonight so they can see it all lit up. Can Hugh do something?” I know this bugs Travis, Mom’s suggestion that Hugh is more plugged in than he is. “Wyatt? What could he do?” she asks.

And that’s how it came to be that my mom asked Wyatt to help us get a dinner reservation, not just for the nine of us but for ten. Wyatt had to assure them he was coming.

“What, did he fix the maître d’s car or something?” asks Jack.

“It must have something to do with his helping get the music festival here. The whole town owes him,” my dad says. The whole town does seem to owe Wyatt; it’s a huge thing to have the festival here. I wonder how Wyatt ever came to know the people who are organizing it or why they listened to his suggestion for a venue. It seems like if he has those kinds of connections, someone would be able to help him break into the business.

“I don’t know,” my mom says, “but I am so relieved. You guys will really get to see what the place looks like full of people, all done up.”

“You’ve mastered the hard sell, hon,” my dad says.

“In case you missed it, I’m already sold,” says Jack. He’s in a Panama hat and long sleeves in the shade of the back porch. He hasn’t once set foot in the ocean. I try to reconcile these facts—Jack loves it here and has not engaged at all withthe beach. I wonder if it’s possible to stay buttoned up at the beach—whether I could come back here freely for the rest of my life without regressing back into an impulsive kid.

In case anyoneforgets I’m the bride, I wear a long white linen dress. I’ve gotten a little sun this week and the color reminds me of someone I used to be. I look healthier, more vital. Jack just shakes his head when he sees me.

Travis and Hugh are waiting outside when we arrive. “It’s packed in there,” Travis says. “Granny’s not going to be able to hear anything.”

“Sometimes those are the best nights,” Granny says.

We walk in and my dad greets the maître d’. “Hello, Maurice. You couldn’t take nine of us, but now we are ten. Pope party.”

“Of course, we have you tucked along the back wall there. Is Mr. Pope here?”

As we all stop to ponder who he could possibly be talking about—Frank is in Florida, after all—Wyatt walks in. Wyatt’s in a pink button-down shirt made of the thinnest possible material. I imagine I can see through it and my mind goes quiet.

Wyatt greets Maurice warmly. A tall man with a full head of silver hair walks over and shakes his hand. We’re all introduced; his name is Carlyle. Wyatt introduces me as Samantha rather than Sam, which is strange and oddly formal.

“Well, you were right,” he’s saying to Wyatt. “This is better than Newport. It feels fresh and we’ll see the firstbands tonight at that old barn, which is less horrible than I’d imagined.”

“See? You’ve got to listen to me more often,” says Wyatt.

“I would if you didn’t have such a shitty singing voice,” says Carlyle, and, inexplicably, they both start to laugh.

We make our way to a long table in the back and find our seats in a haphazard way, but when we’re seated, I realize that we’ve fallen into our old habit of sitting with all of the kids at one end of the table. Wyatt is directly across from me. The first time I look up and catch his eye, he is giving me a look that says,See? Isn’t this easy? We made up, we’re friends. Go ahead and get married.I realize that’s a lot to take from a look.

“So what do you two think?” Hugh is asking. “Cocktails outside in the garden? Dinner and dancing in here? Or cocktails upstairs in the bar?”

“I’d do the whole thing on the beach,” says Wyatt.

Jack ignores him. “I love this place.”

“What about you, Sam?” asks Travis.

I look around the room and am suddenly hot, like heat is coming from my chest up to my face. I want to say it’s perfect. There’s nothing to do but go back to the city and plan this wedding. I’ll learn how to waltz, stepping exactly in time within the confines of a box, memorizing specific guidelines for how my body should react to music. I can feel the gentle pressure of Jack’s hand on my back, telling me which way to go. One-two-three, one-two-three, on and on forever.

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