Page 37 of Bad Summer People
And on and on. How this town loved to gossip. Garry used to find it so amusing, the ins and outs of other people’s lives. Perhaps because they’d never had children and there wasn’t much to discuss beyond their own problems at work. She wished he were waiting for her now at their house on Lighthouse Road, sitting in his Adirondack chair on their little back deck, sipping a vodka and soda with a twist, wearing hisTHE MAYORT-shirt. They’d clink glasses, Susan with her chardonnay, and she’d sit down next to him and regale him with tales of tennis tournament drama. He’d laugh and hold her hand and she’d tell him all about how Sam Weinstein jumped into the bay at the picnic—Garry’s picnic!—and about how Sam’s wife, Jen, was sleeping with Jason Parker and how she suspected that Jason’s wife, Lauren, was having an affair with Robert, the new tennis pro. And she’d tell him about lonely Rachel Woolf and how she, Susan Steinhagen, was so lucky to have Garry Steinhagen in her life.
PART IVAugust 21
20Jen Weinstein
Jen Weinstein was on a roll. Not only had she managed to end her relationship with Jason—while getting back in Sam’s good graces—she was also playing great tennis. Which was important, as this weekend was the women’s doubles tournament. Jen and her partner, Lauren Parker, had already made it to the semifinals, shocking everyone, including themselves.
Yesterday, they’d eliminated three other teams. They’d first knocked out Laura June and Hailey Milotic, beating them 6–4 (the early rounds were only one-set matches). Then they’d killed Jenny Jamison and Paula Rudnick, 6–0. Jenny had hip replacement surgery over the winter and could barely move. It hadn’t been nice, but Lauren and Jen had hit nearly every ball to her, short, and she couldn’t get to any of them. That’s what winners had to do.
Then, in the afternoon quarterfinals, they’d had a tough match against Trisha Spencer and Jane Rosen, a strong team. Trisha had a great serve, spinny with a kick, and Jane got everything back. Rachel Woolf, who’d been helping with strategy, had huddled with them beforehand, and told them to hit down the line as much as possible. They went down 0–3 quickly (Jen’s serve was broken, which she wasn’t happy about). But then they’d managed to turn around the momentum, winning the next three games, breaking Trisha. Jen held her serve after a marathon game that went to deuce four times. They played a tiebreak at 6–6, and pulled it off, 7–5. A small crowd had gathered to watch the final games, and Jen thrilled at the cheering after she hit the winning shot down the line.Trisha and Jane were gracious afterward, but Jen could tell they were upset. Jen and Lauren weren’t supposed to beat them.
The women’s doubles tournament took place during a late August weekend each year. It was the culmination of that season’s tennis program. The men’s doubles tournament happened in July—this year, Theo Burch and Jerry Braun had taken it in a three-set stunner—and the mixed doubles took place in the beginning of August (the Mulders trounced the Romans in the final, 6–2, 6–1).
The women’s, counterintuitively, had the most anticipation and drew the biggest crowds. Last year, around a hundred people sat packed around the stadium court, drinking beer and eating stale popcorn, to watch Rachel Woolf and Emily Grobel lose to Vicky Mulder and Janet Braun. Jen had been on the sidelines then, admiring the game. It felt good to be part of the action this summer.
The tournament lasted all weekend. Saturdays were for early rounds, and Sundays were the semifinals and finals. There were twenty-five pairs playing this year, a mix of old and new faces. Yesterday was a success. Susan Steinhagen had lorded over the courts like an empress, making sure matches started promptly—it annoyed Susan when warmups took too long; Jen heard her shout “Let’s get on with it!” at numerous foursomes. The final four teams standing were Jen and Lauren, Rachel and Emily, Erica Todd and Claire Laurell, and Vicky Mulder and Janet Braun, last year’s champions. (To Rachel’s frustration, Vicky had sent her husband, Aaron, off to Maine to pick up their daughter from sleepaway camp, rather than miss the tournament.)
Jen was at the courts now, milling about before her start time at 10:00 a.m. She and Lauren were set to play Emily and Rachel in the semis, and everyone was checking out the draw, laminated and hung up on the side of Robert’s tennis hut. Women were chatting, saying hello, whispering about favorites and likely upsets. Jen was happy that she and Lauren were underdogs. She’d seen Rachel on her way in, standing away from it all, trying to maintain her composure. Jen had waved but not gone over. Fake friendliness was the mood of the day.
This weekend was like Rachel’s Super Bowl, and she looked forward toit all summer. Last year, she’d been so close to winning. From her professional perspective, Jen knew it wasn’t healthy for Rachel to be so focused on this small-town club competition. But she also knew Rachel didn’t have much else going on. Plus, concentrating on tennis meant Rachel wasn’t blabbing to everyone about Jen’s private life.
Jen was truly thrilled to still be in it. She didn’t generally have such genuine joy. She’d woken up feeling great. She’d had sex with Sam in the morning, which they never did, and had delighted in picking her clothes for the day (all Lacoste; she and Lauren had agreed to be in matching whites).
She felt a squeeze on her arm. Lauren was there, smiling, in her identical outfit, her blond hair pulled back in a neat pony. This experience had been good for them, Jen thought. It had brought them closer together in the way that joint physical activity can. She admired how Lauren ran for drop shots, and thought it was funny when Lauren said “Whoopsie!” when she missed a shot, as if she were a child instead of a grown woman.
“Beautiful day for tennis!” Lauren said. She was beaming.
Jen wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her so happy. Lauren seemed changed this summer. She’d arrived as her typical snobby, Upper East Side self. Now Jen felt Lauren was nicer, less judgmental, more fun to be around. She’d barely heard a word lately about that scammer scandal at Lauren’s kids’ school, which was all Lauren could talk about in June. Jen wasn’t sure what had happened—maybe that fight with Beth Ledbetter had set her free? Jen did know it didn’t have to do with Jason, who was still off moping about Jen. What Jason didn’t realize—had never realized—was that their affair wasn’t about him at all. Never had been.
It was a gorgeous day. Clear, high seventies, a slight breeze off the ocean side of the island. The green flies had been bad for the past couple of weeks, but they seemed to have disappeared completely in honor of the tournament.
“I heard we might get a storm tonight, but it’s supposed to hold off until late, so it looks like we’ll get a full day in, including the finals. If we make it!” Jen laughed as she said it, but it was starting to feel like a real possibility.
“Here are the partners of the hour,” said Brian Metzner, putting his arm around each of them. An acrid odor was wafting from his underarms. Jen had seen him playing earlier with his crew of hefty finance guys. She shook him off politely. They were standing in front of the stadium court, currently occupied by a game of eighty-year-olds, and Lisa came over to join them.
“Champions! How does it feel to make it to Sunday in the women’s doubles tournament? You’re two games away from having your name etched forever on a plaque in the vaunted Salcombe Yacht Club. I can’t even imagine the pressure,” Lisa said teasingly. “I’m rooting for you. Don’t tell Rachel or Emily; they’d die.”
“It’ll be a tough match,” said Lauren. “They’re super steady and have been playing together forever.”
“Come on. Rachel’s got that weird serve, and Emily can’t volley to save her life,” chimed in Brian, apparently an expert on the women’s draw. On this particular weekend, everyone magically knew the ins and outs of the ladies’ games. “You can take them.”
Jen saw Sam hop off his bike and pull it into the yacht club bike rack, already filled with other spectators’ bikes. He’d told her he’d come to watch. It had been a long few weeks for them. That afternoon of the Bay Picnic, Sam had come back from the beach raging, screaming about how Jen was fucking someone else. She’d immediately had the kids go upstairs to watch TV and then tried to calm him down, but it was useless. He’d chugged a bottle of Grey Goose in front of her, silently. Then he’d revealed that Rachel Woolf had told him Jen was cheating on him. On top of that, he’d informed her he’d lost his job, maybe temporarily, maybe permanently, because a woman had accused him of forcefully kissing her. Jen was shaken by this news, but she stored it away for future examination—the more pressing issue was convincing Sam that Rachel wasn’t telling the truth.
She’d told him Rachel was wrong, that she wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. “Rachel’s just jealous; she’s in love with you, she always has been,” Jen had said over and over. “She’s lying. She’s a liar! That’s her thing.”
He’d raced out of the house and headed to the picnic before she could stop him. She wasn’t sure what had happened in the water with Jason—she’d been absolutely terrified that Jason would tell him the truth—but Sam had emerged calmer. She’d seen an opening with him afterward and taken it, escorting him home and having sex with him immediately, the kids still watching whatever junk they wanted on TV.
They were in a good place now; they’d had many draining heart-to-hearts about the dangers of keeping things from each other. Sam had apologized for not telling her about his sexual harassment issue at work. She’d forgiven him—and she did believe he was telling the truth. But she also had to admit that she felt rattled. What if he ended up losing his job? What would people think then? Sam was her cover; everyone took her to be a good person, because they believed that’s what squeaky-clean Sam deserved. But if Sam’s façade crumbled, Jen worried that her misdeeds could also be exposed. Of course, she never fessed up to having affairs, let alone one with Jason, but she did tell Sam she’d been feeling unhappy lately. That was enough of a bone to get him off the scent. The issue was Rachel, who couldn’t be trusted to keep her mouth shut.
She’d been avoiding Jason since that night, using Sam’s meltdown as an excuse to cool things off. For the first week, he’d been relentless, texting her on Signal at all hours, obsessively riding by her house on his bike, to the point that Sam, sitting on their porch one evening, went outside and asked what he was doing (“I’m exercising, dude. You should try it,” was Jason’s answer).
He seemed to get the hint as time went on. He glowered at Jen at the beach and the yacht club and always seemed to be by the tennis courts when she was there. But at least he’d stopped contacting her. She was surprised to find that, after speaking to him every day for a year, she didn’t miss him at all. But that was Jen’s superpower.
Not being with Jason allowed her to think about other priorities, like tennis. It also let her partner with Lauren without feeling awkward. Sure, shehadbeen sleeping with Lauren’s husband, but she wasn’t anymore. Not that Lauren cared much about Jason, based on the looks she exchanged with Robert the pro. Jen had seen her on July 4 coming out of his hut, and she was almost positive she knew now what that meant. Good for Lauren. That guy was gorgeous.
Sam walked over and put his arm around her waist, giving it a little squeeze. He was looking particularly tan and attractive, wearing the orange linen button-down she’d bought for him a couple of years ago. Every now and then, her heart would seize at the idea that their marriage could come crashing down so easily, and it would all be her fault. But then she’d flick the thought away. Or put it in a box. Or lock it behind a door. She’d studied cognitive therapy at school, and it came in handy when managing her own mind.
“Lauren, is Jason coming to watch this round?” Sam asked. He was still waiting to hear about the future of his job, and other than jumping into the bay in front of the entire town, Jen thought he was doing an admirable job of managing his stress.
