Page 56 of Summer Longing
Ruth had never been on a sailboat, didn’t realize there was a motor that could also propel them efficiently through the water. She had been on a boat only once before, a small motorboat in the bay at the Jersey Shore. The vista in front of her, where Cape Cod Bay met the Atlantic, made her previous trip on the water seem like wading in a small pond. This felt like they were at the edge of the world.
The motor created a hum that made talking more trouble than it was worth. Still, the captain, a stocky, deeply tanned guy who seemed barely older than herself and Ben, pointed out landmarks and shared trivia. On the ledge beside her, Ben Cooperman moved closer. She leaned over the side, looking at the white spray of water along the boat’s edge, acutely aware of the feeling of his body against her and wanting to turn to see him but not trusting herself, because she knew the look on her face would give away every thought she’d had about him in the past four days.
After ten or fifteen minutes, they dropped anchor a few dozen yards away from Long Point, a hundred-and-fifty-acre peninsula that housed only a lighthouse and a mound of earth that marked the spot of a former Civil War battery. The captain and his first mate readied a dinghy to transport them in groups of two onto land. When it was their turn to leave the sailboat, Ben touched her arm.
“How much interest do you have in that lighthouse?”
Her heart began to beat fast. Her nonanswer was her answer.
“I think we’re going to stay aboard, if that’s okay with you,” Ben told the captain. “We’re really into the water more than the sightseeing.”
“I don’t want you trying to move this boat or swimming ashore. You’re okay just to hang tight until we get back? It’ll be about an hour.”
Ben assured him they would be fine. The captain showed them where jugs of water were stored in the cabin belowdecks. That brief conversation left Ruth alone long enough for her to ask herself the fundamental question: Is this what I want? And the answer was intense and deep and resounding: Yes.
The dinghy motored off, leaving her alone with Ben in a way she had never felt alone with anyone before. She could see the slice of land in front of her, and she knew Provincetown was behind her. But she felt very far from solid ground.
She shielded her face with her hand to look at him, and he opened his knapsack and handed her a Phillies baseball hat. “You’re going to burn,” he said.
“I wasn’t exactly planning on a day out at sea when I left the house,” she said, putting it on her head.
“I admire your spontaneity,” he said, sitting back on the ledge. He patted the space next to him and she sat, feeling jumpy inside.
“So…” she said to fill what felt like awkward silence.
“Ruth, I’ve been thinking about you since the other night,” he said. She looked at him. His eyes were gold and brown and green, more dazzling than the sun-dappled blue water surrounding them.
“Really?” she said as if she hadn’t experienced the very same thing. She’d already followed him onto the boat. She’d already stayed behind with him. She was entitled to hold something back.
He nodded. “After you left I realized I didn’t know your last name or whether you were here for a day or a week or a month, and I felt stupid. But I knew if you were around I’d see you again because that’s the way it is here. And P’town didn’t let me down.” He reached for her hand. The day really was so hot and bright.
“I think I need water,” she said.
“I’ll get it.” He jumped up. Fetching water required walking down a narrow but short flight of stairs. Ruth hadn’t meant for him to leave; she could have gotten it herself. But he was already halfway down the steps when she said, “I can do it.”
She followed him, ducking her head and holding on to the narrow metal railing. She felt the boat sway and she wondered if there was any way it could just drift away from shore. Her imagination began to run wild and she imagined herself and Ben Cooperman in some sort ofGilligan’s Islandsituation.
“One water, coming right up,” he said, pouring from a jug into a clear plastic cup. The name of the boat,Amphitrite,was printed on it in blue lettering. She said the name aloud.
“Goddess of the sea, wife of Poseidon,” he said, handing her the cup.
She looked up at him, wanting him to kiss her more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life. He didn’t. So she did what any self-respecting, crushing-hard teenager would do: she reached her arms around his neck and kissed him.
They kissed and kissed, eventually folding themselves together on a plush, curved bench against one side of the cabin. When their clothes came off, rushed, fumbling, wordlessly, she felt embraced not just by this man but by the bended arm of the Cape. She knew, afloat in the spot that felt like the tip of the world, that she would return to land a changed woman.
Ruth smiled at Lidia Barros, thinking how hard it was to actually make new friends late in life. There was so much that could never be fully explained, whole incarnations of the self that had come and gone. A friend at that stage could know only a two-dimensional version of you, and that’s what made old friends—even old husbands—so precious. They knew you in all your dimensions. For a time, Ruth believed that the only version of herself that mattered was the current one. She’d been so willing at times to shed her skin, to become better, better, better. But what if the best version of herself had been behind her all these years?
“I should get home,” Ruth said, standing up. “My daughter’s back went out and she’s housebound.”
“Oh, what a shame! In this glorious weather too.”
“I’ve been encouraging her to at least sit in the yard and get some fresh air.”
“Please, just leave that mug and plate. I’ll take care of it,” Lidia said as Ruth tried to clean up.
They both turned at the sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs. Tito appeared, carrying a large cooler. “I’m here to unload some stripers, if you’re interested,” he said. “Ruth! Surprised to see you this close to the water.”
“Very funny.” Ruth smiled.
