Page 60 of Endless Summer: Stories
Kate absorbs this. It’s true; they didn’t have a service for Bill. Part of this decision was because Bill had outlived all of his contemporaries. But part of it, Kate admits, was that she didn’t want to see Lorraine. “Well,” Kate says, but then she stops because she’s at a loss for words.
“I loved Wilder, Katie.”
Lorraine could have dumped the berries she’s holding all over Kate’s head and she wouldn’t have been more surprised. “What?”
“I loved him,” Lorraine says. “Or at least I thought I did at the time. In the commune, we held group-therapy sessions, sitting in a circle around the fire, drinking homemade wine. My community helped me understand that it wasn’t Wilder I was in love with. It was Wilder and you—and Blair and Kirby and Tiger. I envied your family so much, all I wanted was to be a part of it. So when Wilder showed an interest in me—even though I knew it was fueled by alcohol and pills—I said yes.” Her hands are shaking so badly now that she sets the strawberries down. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was ecstatic. I’d been hoping I’d get pregnant.”
Kate flexes her hand. She wants to strike Lorraine—even all these years later, she wants to slap her silly.He was my husband, not yours!Kate and Wilder had three young children! Didn’t Lorraine see how destructive her behavior was? Howselfish?
Only now do Lorraine’s eyes fill with tears. “When I heard Wilder died, I wanted to believe he’d killed himself because we couldn’t be together. I wanted it to be your fault. But that was just a fantasy. He killed himself because I ruined his life. His death was my fault and I’ve carried it with me every day for thirty-five years.” She wipes away her tears. “I came back to Nantucket because I heard about this farm cooperative and I’ve become something of an expert in the field of organic produce. But I also came back to Nantucket because I knew I’d see you eventually. Iwantedto see you, Katie—so I could apologize. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.” She reaches out with one of her farm-grimy hands to clench Kate’s arm. “I’m sorry, Katie.”
Suddenly the decades melt away; Kate is a young mother and Lorraine a teenager, desperate to please her new employers. It’s a beastly hot day; Kate and Wilder have just returned from the beach with Blair, who is six months old. When they walk in the back door into the kitchen, they find Lorraine waxing the kitchen floor. She has also cleaned the oven, scrubbed the range, reorganized the dry goods in the pantry. She takes the fussy baby from Kate’s arms and says, “Let’s get you a cool bath and some powder and then I’ll put you down for a nice nap.” Kate is dizzy with relief and also impressed with Lorraine’s easy confidence and intuition where the baby is concerned, especially since Lorraine doesn’t have a mother herself. Before Lorraine whisks Blair from the spotless kitchen, she turns to Kate and Wilder and says, “I made a pitcher of iced tea. It’s in the icebox. There’s a platter of cheese and crackers in there as well, and that chutney you like, Katie.” Young Lorraine wants only to help, to make their lives easier. And hadn’t Kate felt God’s grace in being relieved of the baby for an hour, in the first sip of minty tea?
Now Kate sighs. Her anger is heavy. What if she just set it down? What if she accepts Lorraine’s apology for this ancient wrong and is done with it?
“We’re having a party tonight,” Kate says. “At my beach house on Red Barn Road. Why don’t you come?”
Lorraine’s eyes flood over and she reaches out to hug Kate, who reluctantly finds herself patting Lorraine’s back. She’s sure everyone walking by is wondering what on earth is causing two old ladies such emotions.
It’s a long, long story.
Kate and Lorraine pull apart. Kate says, “I’ll take a quart of those strawberries after all.”
Kate pops one of the berries in her mouth on the way to the car; it’s even sweeter and juicier than she imagined. When Kate opens the Miata’s passenger door, Bitsy lowers her sunglasses and peers at Kate over the top.
“I was just about to come save you,” she says. “What happened?”
Kate eats another berry, then hands the box to Bitsy. “It would have made a fine episode ofMaury Povich,” she says.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Bitsy says.
“I think I’m finally growing up,” Kate says.
9. LIVIN’ON APRAYER
The clambake was her aunt Magee’s idea.
“Look at all those lobsters!” Mouth says. He has dragged Genevieve down to the beach so they can watch the caterers dig a coffin-size hole in the sand, start the fire, and lay down the stones and then the seaweed. “Aren’t you excited?”
Not really,Genevieve thinks. Nobody asked what she wanted for her birthday because, in her family’s mind, she’s still a child, and the deciding is done by the adults.
Mouth—or Andrew, as everyone is now calling him—is all dialed up about the clambake. The littlenecks, the mussels, the linguica and small red potatoes, and thirty ears of Bartlett’s Farm corn will be steamed in the sand. They’re eating on the beach, at a long table with folding banquet chairs.
“Do you think I’m dressed okay?” Mouth asks.
“I mean, yeah?” Genevieve says. “Andrew” has taken a shine to Nantucket—maybe too much of a shine. He loves the house. He loves the in-ground pool, the path to the beach, the separate cottage just for guests, the sunporch (where he’s sleeping), and the circular driveway paved with white shells. It’s like something out of a movie, he says. “Why didn’t you tell me, babe?” He went crazy over the outdoor shower, even though it’s rudimentary and affords very little privacy. (Genevieve would choose to shower indoors if she were allowed, which she is not.) He loves the Scout—he’s a mechanic and a vehicle like that is catnip—but he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s a bitch to drive. The steering column is stiff, the gearshift sticks, the thing rattles so badly that Genevieve always fears it’s going to lose a quarter panel.
Genevieve feels three unexpected ways about Mouth’s presence here on Nantucket.
A) Let down. Her family’s reaction was one of benign acceptance because George stole all her thunder in the inappropriate-partner department. She had been anticipating—and maybe even hoping for—more of a disruption.
B) Annoyed. Mouth is suddenly obsessed with “fitting in” and “looking the part.” That morning, he’d asked Genevieve if they could ride into town so he could buy a new outfit at Murray’s. Genevieve indulged him, even though it washerbirthday and the very last place she wanted to spend even an hour of it was the bastion of prep that was Murray’s Toggery. Mouth bought a pink polo shirt—a real one, with the little horse—and a pair of madras shorts that the saleswoman told him would fade with every washing. A look of concern crossed his face until Genevieve explained thatfadedmadras was far more authentic than bright, crisply colored madras. “The rules here are completely backward,” she said.
C) Creepings of the Ick. “The Ick” is what a girl feels when it’s time to break up with someone because everything he says and does makes her skin crawl.
Genevieve doesn’t understand how only yesterday she could have beenso in lovewith Mouth and yet now that he’s here, she feels only a gross disdain. She was so happy to hear he left Danielle—Genevieve had won!—but this elation quickly changed to panic. Two of the three things that she finds the most attractive about him—his unavailability and his status as a person in the world with a “real job”—are gone. All that’s left is his “punk-ness,” but as Genevieve regards his new outfit (he also bought a webbed belt and a pair of Reef flip-flops), the only vestige of the Mouth she became so obsessed with is his head tattoo, and he keeps that covered with a Red Sox cap at every opportunity.
“I really like your family,” Mouth says, putting an arm around Genevieve, squeezing her closer, pressing his hot, wet mouth to her neck in a way that makes her pull away just a little. “Your aunts and uncle are so cool. Your uncle basically offered me a job.”
