Page 59 of Bad Summer People
It wasn’t like Jason to get sentimental. He was cold, he knew, even when it came to his wife and kids. He’d loved Jen, at least he thought he did, but perhaps what he’d loved the most about her was that she was Sam’s. Even when they’d first slept together, that summer long ago, he’d been thinking about Sam, about taking something that was his.
Jason felt like it was time for a new start. He was forty years old. He’d just avoided something that could have been very bad. His marriage was intact, even though it probably shouldn’t be. His kids were fine, as kids go. His job was lucrative. For the past year, he’d focused on Jen, Jen, Jen, but now it was time for something else. He wasn’t quite sure what. Maybe he should train for a marathon. Or get back into tennis in a big way. Lauren had been happiest this summer playing tennis, taking lessons from Robert, nearly winning that silly tournament with Jen. Their newfound friendship confounded him. But he couldn’t say anything about it to Lauren. She’d rip his head off.
Yes, it was time for a change. Clean slate. By the time he got backto Salcombe next year, he’d be a new man. The Susan stuff would have faded, a tragic memory in another Fire Island summer. It was part of the town’s life cycle—the oldies, huddled in a circle at the back of the beach, bragging about their grandchildren, died off one by one. Jason had seen it all before. The eighty-year-olds from when he was a kid were all gone now. The sixty-year-olds had turned into the eighty-year-olds. Sam and his cohort were now the vibrant forty-year-olds with kids, soon, though, to become the sixty-year-olds. And on and on. Susan would have gone in the next wave, anyway, along with Marie and Steve Pond, Betsy and Mike Todd, Bonnie and Richie Trimble. In ten years, they’d all be dead or in nursing homes, their lovely Salcombe homes occupied by their children, or their children’s children, or lucky buyers, new to town.
Jason was schlepping the large wooden wagon—PARKERin raised red letters along the back edge—to the dock. It was his second trip; they had so much shit they were taking back to the city, Jason wasn’t sure how they’d accumulated anything in a town without stores. They were to take the 1:00 p.m. ferry, the most crowded boat of the year. Nearly the entire town was leaving today. Goodbye, Salcombe. We’ll all be back next year! Jason would likely have to sit shoulder to shoulder with some annoying person and make small talk the whole ride back to Bay Shore (“How was your summer?” “Great! How was yours?” “Fabulous! So sad about Susan, though…”). Jason had wanted to take the 9:00 a.m. instead—“Let’s just get up and go, avoid the crowd”—but Lauren insisted on getting the later boat.
“I still have stuff I need to do to get out of here,” she whined to him. “Jen wants me to stay and take the 1:00 p.m. with them. And it’s not like you’ve been any help.” Well, she was right about that. There wasn’t anything Jason hated more than packing up the house at the end of the summer. It was both laborious and depressing, and so he’d spent the past couple of days doing anything to get out of Lauren’s way.
This was the last load. The rest of his family was already waiting at the dock, socializing, the kids playing with each other inside the little dock house, finally in sneakers instead of barefoot. Lauren was likely gossiping in a group with Lisa and Emily, getting in their last-minute digs beforeseparating for the fall, winter, and spring. Jason turned down Bay Promenade toward the dock, sweat pouring, dampening the front of his checked button-down. It was hot for Labor Day; it felt like July, not September.
He looked up to see Sam coming toward him, also dragging his wagon, clearly on the same mission as Jason. Sam was in his “travel” clothing, which meant sleek athleisure—black fitted sweats and a kelly-green T-shirt, probably from A.P.C. or some trendy place like that. Sam had always been more fashionable than Jason. He’d always been more everything than Jason.
The men paused when they reached each other, directly in front of the yacht club entrance, sailboats lining the bay beach on the other side. Jason couldn’t help but imagine it as a standoff. They’d not been alone together since that night. Sam made a move to keep going, but Jason, on instinct, blocked him. He was sad. He was sorry. He wasn’t feeling himself.
“Sam, I need to say something,” said Jason.
Sam blinked behind his glasses. “What?” he finally said.
“It wasn’t about you. It was about Jen. I’m sorry,” said Jason. He was lying. Sort of. But it felt good to say.
“You’re an asshole. You’re such an asshole,” said Sam. His voice was low and shaky.
There were other people heading toward them. No one could overhear this.
“I know,” said Jason. “You’ve always known that! Youknowme. It’s just who I am.”
Sam sighed. “Nothing will ever be the same. You totally fucked it all up. This place will never be the same. You and I won’t, either.”
The sun beat down on Jason’s head. His hair was hot.
“Sam, do you remember when we were kids and we used to ride our bikes together on the boardwalks? I’d close my eyes, and you’d direct me—left, right, left, right—making sure I didn’t fall off the side.”
Sam nodded.
“I think that’s the closest I’ve ever felt to someone in my life.”
Just then, Brian came barreling through, walking alone. He was in khakis and a navy Lacoste shirt, his go-to ferry outfit.
“Hey-a, boys, am I interrupting something meaningful? Did someone’s portfolio take a hit?” He guffawed.
“Nope. Just bringing the last load to the dock,” said Jason, collecting himself. “See you, guys,” he said, not looking back.
He wheeled the wagon the length of the dock, navigating the pockets of people waiting for the ferry, and unloaded the suitcases in the pile in front of the boat’s freight area. When the ferry arrived, he’d make sure all the bags got on; more than once, they’d landed at Bay Shore to find that a suitcase hadn’t made it on the boat, much to Lauren’s annoyance (somehow it was always the bag with all her clothes).
Lauren was exactly where Jason had expected—huddled with her friends on a bench, all of them in identical oversize sunglasses, a row of attractive bug ladies. He saw Brian Metzner, chatting with Paul Grobel. Paul was in what looked to be men’s capri pants, his little hairy ankles on display. Beth Ledbetter was there with her husband, Kevin, loudly directing him to dump their bags and lock the wagon up, “Now!” Erica Todd and Theo Burch were sitting together on another bench, their children plopped down in front of them on a suitcase. There were the Ponds and the Trimbles and Jeanette Oberman, on speakerphone with an Uber driver. “Yes, meet us at the Salcombe terminal. S-A-L-C-O-M-B-E. You don’t pronounce theB.” Greg had always been the one who drove. Micah Holt was standing with his parents, checking his phone. Claire Laurell was with her daughters, the three of them roasting in the sun. And there was Rachel, standing off to the side, looking lost. She nodded at Jason as he passed. Where had she been hiding?
Jason went over to look for Arlo and Amelie in the dock house. He found them playing with Lilly, Ross, and Dara, some game where they each took a turn hitting the others on the back.Whatever. Let them amuse themselves,Jason thought. He went back to stand near his suitcases, taking out his phone, trying to focus on the news. But it was too bright to read anything. He glanced over to see Jen and Sam nearby, Jen in her black-and-white-striped T-shirt dress, the one that Jason joked made her look like a French sailor. They were discussing something, Sam speaking into Jen’s ear. Jen looked agitated. She pulled on Sam’s sleeve, her oneforehead wrinkle flexed. Jason wondered what they were fighting about. Sam broke away from her and walked toward Jason, a few paces and he was there. He grabbed Jason’s arm and pulled him to the side, away from the crowd.
“Get out of here,” Sam said urgently.
Jason was confused. Get out of where?
“Leave the dock. Go home. Something’s going to happen, but I don’t want it to happen here.”
Jason didn’t understand. “What’s going to happen?”
“Just go now.”
