Page 82 of The Castaways
He felt a hundred pounds lighter. He felt like he could take the back stairs two at a time and leap across the swimming pool.
Andrea was staring into space; her face was halfway between contempt and what he thought might be relief. Andrea was tough, and always had been. Addison tried to remember when the two of them had ever been alone together like this for any length of time. In Vegas they had sought out the slot machines together. Andrea had been feeding the machine next to his when he hit for seventeen hundred dollars. She had been the first person to hug him and jump up and down as the machine blinked his good fortune. On September 11, she had come to the hospital where the doctor was examining Phoebe after her miscarriage. She had hugged Addison and moaned with him. She had checked in every day for weeks, stopping by with homemade soup and doughnuts from the Downyflake. Addison remembered wandering with Andrea through the National Gallery in London. They had stopped in front of Renoir’s paintingLes Parapluies. And then there was the time Addison and Andrea had taken the surfing lesson in Sayulita, Mexico, with a grungy expat named Kelso.
Addison broke the silence by saying, “Do you remember that surfing lesson we took?”
She did not respond. Addison had been the most unlikely surfing partner in existence, but the Chief and Jeffrey in their stoic, stony way had flat-out refused, and Greg was such a good surfer already that he didn’t want or need to take a beginner lesson. Phoebe was too prissy, Delilah was too uncoordinated, and Tess was afraid of the water. Which left Addison. Andrea pleaded.Come on. I’ve never asked you for anything.
He gave in because she was correct, she had never asked him for anything. Together they donned wetsuits and paddled out on their boards to chest-high water, where Kelso, the goateed, tattooed, pierced, stoned surf instructor, pushed them into waves. Andrea stood first, then, a hundred tries later, Addison stood. It had been a revelation, riding the water like that, even for a few seconds before the inevitable crash. He and Andrea had talked about it with Kelso over beers at the cantina later.
As they were finishing their bottle of wine (it had taken them thirty-two minutes), the phone rang. Addison checked: it was Jeffrey.
He said, “Should I answer it?”
Andrea said, “Do you think now’s really the time?”
He said, “Would you like me to open another bottle of wine?”
She said, “Please.”
He opened the wine. The house was dark. Too dark to see the elephant in the room?
He said, “Are we going to talk about it?”
She said, “I’m curious. Why bring up the surfing lesson?”
“I don’t know. It just came to mind. It was something you and I did together.”
She said, “You went with me when no one else would.”
“It was no big deal. I had fun.”
She said, “Why didn’t you tell me about Tess earlier?”
Addison said, “Is that not obvious?”
“Tess…” Andrea said, but she couldn’t go on. The name hung there in the dark house. The name was nothing more than a breath. “I knew there was someone. I figured it out, finally. While she was alive, I thought there was something wrong. I thought it was me.”
“You?”
“She stopped going to church with me. Said she was finished with the Lord. Then I caught her lying about where she’d been and what she’d been doing, and my feelings were hurt. I didn’t understand.”
Addison reached for matches. He lit a few candles on the bar.
Andrea said, “Just recently I figured out it wasn’t me. I figured out it was somebody else.”
“It was me.”
“It was you.” Andrea shook her head. “Jesus, Add, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I loved her.”
“You loved her?” Andrea said.
“Loved her, adored her, worshipped her.”
Andrea nodded. Her eyes were blazing in the candlelight. She reminded him of a lynx or a panther. “I would thank you for that, if it weren’t sowrong. What were your plans?”
“I wanted her to leave Greg. I wanted to live with her. Marry her.”
