Page 86 of Summer of '69
Luke swings around and backhands Kirby right across the face.
She’s stunned. No one has ever hit her before. She brings her fingers to her lip. She’s bleeding.
“Are you kidding me?” a voice says.
Kirby backs up a few steps as Darren comes charging up the stairs. He regards Luke for one second then punches him. The hit is solid; the sound, gruesome. Luke drops to the ground.
“Go inside,” Darren says to Kirby. “Call the police.”
Luke doesn’t even bother getting up. He just lies splayed across the yard, whimpering.
Patty kneels down next to him. “He’s hurt!” she says. She glares at Darren. “You hurt him!”
“He hit Kirby,” Darren says. “Any man who would raise his hand to a woman does not deserve your sympathy.”
“It was self-defense,” Patty says. “Kirby was attacking him.”
“Attackinghim?” Kirby says. Her face stings; she’s going to have a fat lip. “He was dragging you by the hair like a caveman.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Patty says. “This isnoneof your business!”
“You don’t deserve to be treated that way,” Kirby says. “I’ve seen the bruises, Patty, and the marks from where he slaps you.”
Patty casts a sidelong glance at Darren and speaks through gritted teeth. “It’s none of your business. You don’t know what I like or don’t like—”
“It’s 1969,” Kirby says. “You don’t have to tolerate himabusingyou.”
Patty gets to her feet and charges toward Kirby, and Kirby wonders if she’s about to get hit for the second time in her life. “Butt out! I don’t judge your…preferences, so please don’t judge mine.” She pulls Luke up.
“Well, the fact is, he hitme,” Kirby says. “I could press charges.”
“Press away!” Patty says. Her eyes are wild with defiance, but beneath this Kirby spies fear or insecurity—or maybe it’s just exhaustion. Kirby is guessing Patty didn’t get much sleep on Chappy. “Come on, Luke.” Patty yanks Luke into the house, blatantly violating the no-visitors-of-the-opposite-sex rule. The front door slams behind them.
Kirby and Darren stare at each other in dumbfounded silence.
“What should I do?” Kirby asks.
Just then, a police car rolls up and Kirby feels a wave of relief. Maybe someone else reported the disturbance; Patty’s screaming could have woken the dead.
“Edgartown?” Darren says.
Kirby doesn’t understand at first, but then she notices it’s theEdgartownpolice, not the Oak Bluffs police, which is very unusual indeed.
An officer gets out of the car and strides up the walk. He nods at Kirby and Darren.
“I’m looking for Patricia O’Callahan,” he says.
Kirby can’t decide if she should linger and try to eavesdrop or if she should just head up to the igloo and go to sleep.
“I should probably get some ice,” she says to Darren.
Gently, he touches her swollen lip. “I’m gonna wait until he comes out and then give him a proper licking.”
“The police are handling it,” Kirby says. She wonders if maybe it was Mr. Ames who called the Edgartown police.
“You’re right,” Darren says. He smiles at her and Kirby allows herself to be sucked into the warmth of his brown eyes. He’s handsome, genuine, kind, and flat-out superior to every other boyfriend she has ever had—but he will never be hers. Kirby wants to blame this on history or society, but the fact is, her own bad decisions are the obstacle.
“Thank you for coming to the rescue,” Kirby says. “My hero.”
