Page 85 of The Castaways
“Can I watch TV?” Drew asked.
“No,” Delilah said. It was one in the morning. What would be on the hotel TV but pornography?
“Please?”
“No, Drew. Everyone else is asleep.”
He gave her a face. “This place sucks. I hate it here.”
Well, that made two of them, but Delilah couldn’t articulate this because the kids would take their cues from her. She had to be upbeat, no matter what. “I only pulled over because your brother was sick. This isn’t anyplace we’re staying.”
“Where are we staying?” Drew asked. “Where are we going?”
Michigan, she thought. The idea had taken root in her. The kids splashing in the lake, the kids picking blueberries.
“Someplace else,” she said.
She hiked down to the parking lot for the bag. She was exhausted. Really fucking tired. She just wanted to sleep.
When she got back to the room, she heard a noise she did not like. The door to the bathroom was shut. She pushed it open.
Drew was on his knees, puking into the bathtub.
PHOEBE
Everyone had left her except for the Chief and the hundred other people who were dancing. Phoebe had no shortage of dance partners. She danced with Swede, she danced with Hank Drenmiller, she danced with the executive director of Island Conservation. They all told her how wonderful she was, how generous and kindhearted. Phoebe felt like the belle of the ball, the way she used to feel on special nights before Reed died, like she was pretty and charming and so, so lucky to have been born into her life.
But something was eating at her, an impostor feeling, a feeling that she did not deserve any of this. She had been drinking champagne all night to combat this feeling, but as was always the case with alcohol, her underlying feelings became stronger rather than weaker. Pretense peeled away, exposing…
The band finished “These Boots Were Made for Walking,” and Phoebe and the executive director separated and politely clapped. Phoebe scanned the crowd. Everyone was having alotof fun; she could feel good about that. She saw Eddie on the fringes of the room, holding a savannah sidecar. He wasn’t dancing and he wasn’t talking to anyone, but he looked happy.
Phoebe was rafting down a champagne river. The band launched into “Love Potion Number Nine.” Phoebe grabbed the Chief’s hand. “Come on, Eddie. Let’s dance.”
“I don’t dance,” the Chief said. “You know that. Not with my wife, not with the Queen of England.”
Phoebe pulled him onto the dance floor. “But with me, tonight, yes.”
“No,” he said, but he was trying not to smile.
“It’s my party,” Phoebe said, “and you’ll dance if I want to.”
And guess what? The Chief could dance. He was as strong and solid and surefooted as Phoebe’s father. He led, she followed. She was seventeen again, at the Whitefish Bay Pool Club at her homecoming dance. She had been runner-up as queen to Shelby Duncan, Reed’s girlfriend. Reed and Shelby had looked silly but sweet in their foil crowns.
Phoebe became confused. The Chief twirled her, then gathered her up in his arms. He was her father. He was a safe place. She looked him square in the eye. He stopped, held her out at arm’s length.
“That was a great thing you did,” he said.
Phoebe said, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
The Chief did not move. The song ended, people clapped. Phoebe was falling. Falling! She let go of her pole and toppled into the champagne river. She was drowning. Would anyone save her?
Phoebe told the Chief as they sat on folding chairs in the dark night outside the bright oval of the tent.
“I gave Tess a pill,” she said. “Only one. But it was a doozy.”
Phoebe tried to explain, but her words were jumbled. Tess and Addison having an affair, in love, discovered by Phoebe in the cruel, cold days of early April. She saw them together at the Quaise cottage, but she said nothing. What could she say? She understood. In a weird, drug-addled way, she approved. But not really, of course. Not wholly or completely. She had her moments of clarity, her flare-ups of jealousy. Addison was in love with Tess. But Phoebe said nothing, did nothing. She hid beneath a shroud of drugs. She waited. Days, weeks, months. She watched the affair; she took its temperature. Addison was in deeper than Tess. Tess wanted to pull away; Addison wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to leave Greg. How did Tess feel about this? Phoebe couldn’t tell.
Tess came to Phoebe two days before her anniversary. The sail was going to happen; they had checked the forecast. There would be plenty of wind. Greg was gung-ho about the sail, about the anniversary celebration; they needed it, they deserved it. He had a surprise. He had written her a song. Andrea was making a picnic. Delilah was taking the kids overnight.
