Page 45 of Bad Summer People
They turned onto Harbor, ducking under sagging, waterlogged reeds. There was another crackling of thunder.
“I’m the one who ruined our lives,” said Jen. She shivered underneath her oversize raincoat. Water was dripping from her hood into her eyes.
“Honestly, Jen, I couldn’t give a shit,” said Lauren, relieved to say it out loud. “I’ve been sleeping with Robert for months,” she continued.
“I figured,” said Jen.
“The only reason I care about you and Jason is that it’s going to makemelook bad. I’ll be the sad woman whose husband left her for his best friend’s wife. It’s so embarrassing. I’ll be the talk of Braeburn.”
“Oh, we’re being honest now, are we?” said Jen, smiling. “I think it’s great that you’re fucking Robert. He’s amazing-looking.”
“He is so hot,” said Lauren. “I think he’s in love with me. Too bad he’s just a tennis pro.” Lauren snorted. She paused. “Are you and Jason going to run off together? I don’t care, I just want to know.”
Now it was Jen’s turn to snort. “No. I ended it with him. He’s all yours.”
“I don’t want him, either. He’s an asshole.”
They both laughed. A large gust pushed the women back on their heels. They turned left on Broadway, headed back toward the bay, nearing the field.
“I’ll tell you the truth,” said Jen, pulling her hood tighter around her head. “I’ve been cheating on Sam since we met. I’m always with someone else; this year, it was Jason. He doesn’t mean anything to me. But I’m sorry that I did that to you. You didn’t deserve it.”
“That’s crazy,” said Lauren, genuinely interested. “I honestly never would have suspected. You seem so…good.”
“What I’m good at is living a double life,” said Jen. “I do love Sam—how can you not love Sam?—but he doesn’t know me at all.”
“Men are truly clueless,” said Lauren. “I’ve always known deep down that Jason was in love with you. I just didn’t care. Why would I care? I have my life, we have the kids, we have nice things. What else could I want?”
“Happiness isn’t always what you think it will be,” said Jen. “At least that’s what I tell my clients.”
“I know I should hate you,” said Lauren. “But I don’t. I feel bad for you—you’re going to have to deal with Sam. What are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry. Sam and I will be fine,” said Jen. “He needs me. He’ll never want to be like his parents. Never. He’ll forgive me, I know he will.”
They were in front of the field now, shining their flashlights through the tall green fence. The light passed over the baseball diamond and bleachers, all empty. Lightning shocked the sky.
“Lauren, Lauren,” whispered Jen, pulling Lauren closer to her and linking her arm in hers. “I saw something moving in the playground.”
The playground was just on the other side of Neptune, visible at the far end of the field.
They crouched down together at the edge of the boardwalk, careful not to fall off the side into the brush. Through the fence, across the field, they could see Jason shimmy out from under the slide and continue to walk up toward the beach. Less than a minute later, they saw another man, in an orange shirt, leave the porch of the art shack and follow Jason.
“It’s Sam,” Jen whispered.
“Holy fuck,” said Lauren. “Let’s follow them.”
Micah Holt
Micah Holt was bored. He’d been waiting out the storm for what felt like forever, and he wanted to leave the club and sink into his bed. But it was still too wild out—his parents had texted him to stay put for now, worried about falling branches or downed wires. He and Willa were sitting at the bar, nursing vodkas quietly, having run out of conversation long ago. The only other person there was Larry Higgins, slumped at a small table, staring off into space, drunk, drunk, drunk. Micah had poured him about eight large whiskeys as the night went on (and on), and Larry was a goner. When the rain and wind eventually stopped, Micah and Willa would make sure Larry got back to his house in one piece. They were just bartenders, sure, but they also occasionally had to escort particularly sauced grown-ups home.
Willa, in her uniform of a Salcombe Yacht Club polo and jean shorts, put her head down at the bar. She and Micah had been best friends since they were babies; they’d both spent every summer of their young lives in Salcombe. Willa went to Michigan now. She was a party girl. Cute in a bubbly way; men liked her energy and laugh. Micah had told her he was gay when they were twelve, a big deal for him at the time, and she’d giggled and said, “Duh.” Would Micah be close to Willa had he met her in the outside world? Probably not. Her friends from college were straight, and they liked to chug beers and dress up for football games. But he loved Willa nonetheless. Salcombe did that to you.
“Micaahhhhh,” she said, lifting her head. “Can we just leave now? I’m sure we won’t get killed by a flying cow. We’re not inThe Wizard of Oz.”
“Let’s just wait a few more minutes,” said Micah.
Willa stuck out her tongue. The lights flickered on and off for a few seconds, settling off.
“The power is out,” said Willa. He couldn’t see her face in the darkness.
