Summer People (4 page)

“Now, are you okay with lunch?” Beth asked Garrett. “The bagels and stuff?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’m off to the store.”

At the Stop & Shop, Beth was so caught up in her thoughts— Arch, the twins, Marcus, would this summer be okay?—that she didn’t even see David until he touched her shoulder.

“Beth?”

Her nipples hardened. Because it was chilly; they were standing in the produce section in front of the hydroponic lettuce.

“Oh, God. David.” Beth put her hands to her face in such a way that her elbows shielded her chest. She felt like she was going to cry, but no, she was just overwhelmed. Why him? Why now? She’d been in the store, what? thirty seconds, only long enough to chastise herself for not making a list, and here was David Ronan, her first love. Her first love and more. David fucking Ronan.

She peeked through her fingers. Yes, he was still standing there. Staring at her like she was from outer space. Of course— who acted this way upon bumping into an old friend at the store? Who hid like this? Well, he was still as handsome as ever—dark blond hair, a great tan. Wearing a red button-down shirt turned back at the cuffs, khaki shorts, and black flip-flops. Holding a head of lettuce. David Ronan, owner of Island Painting, year-round resident of Nantucket, father of two daughters, husband of Rosie Ronan who was a gourmet cook and threw notorious cocktail parties (Beth and Arch went to one, years ago). He had every right to be here at the Stop & Shop, and yet Beth felt taken by surprise. Affronted, even. Like he planned this somehow, to fuck her up.

“I heard about Arch,” David said softly. “I read about it in the
New York Times.
I wanted to call, or write, or something to let you know how incredibly sorry I am for your loss.”

“I can’t talk about it,” Beth said. She still hadn’t moved her hands. David reached out, circled her wrist and gently pulled it away from her face.

“It’s okay,” he said.

She blinked away her tears, was it the second time she’d cried today, or the third?—and then, because it was David Ronan standing before her, she began to worry what she looked like. Her hair, her wrinkled blouse. The bags under her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said finally. “I am fine. Thank you for your condolences. How are you?”

“Surviving,” he said.

“That’s all we can hope for,” Beth said. “I want to ask about Rosie and the girls, but I can’t right now, David. I’m too … I’m too frazzled. We just got on-island an hour ago. Will you forgive me if I just shop?”

“I forgive you,” he said. “We can catch up later. I’ll stop by the house sometime.”

“Good idea,” Beth said. He was being polite, just like every time she happened into him. He wouldn’t come by the house; he never did. He was busy in the summer. If she bumped into him again in a few weeks, or a month, he would explain how busy he’d been.

David made haste in dumping his lettuce into a plastic bag and headed for the deli. Then around the corner, out of sight. Beth took a head of lettuce herself and breathed out a long stream of anxious air. David Ronan. Of all people.

Beth lingered in the produce section trying to transfer her angst into concentration on the mundane task at hand: Did she want strawberries? Yes. Grapes and bananas? Yes. What else? What kind of fruit would Marcus eat? The same as everybody else, she assumed. He was, after all, just a person. No different because he was black, because he was poor, because he was sad. David Ronan, too, was just a person. Why then did he seem like so much more? Beth was afraid to leave the produce section. She bought red and yellow peppers and some button mushrooms. It was too early in the season yet for really good zucchini or corn. She was afraid that David Ronan would be standing at the cheese case or in front of the cereal. She couldn’t bear to see him again. She would have to stay by the produce until she was certain he’d left the store.

The produce section, however, was freezing. Beth had to move on. Besides, she was an adult. That was one of Dr. Schau’s favorite refrains:
You’re an adult, Beth. You have years of experience in how to cope. Use that experience.
Okay, Beth thought. She saw David every summer, sometimes several times a summer, and that one year they’d even socialized at the cocktail party. (Arch was the one who’d wanted to go. Beth pleaded to stay home until Arch insinuated that her reluctance meant that she still felt something for David. So they went to the party and Beth drank too much.)

She’d never been this alarmed to see David Ronan before, so why now? Because Arch was gone? Yes, that was it. She was no longer happily married. Her fairy tale had come to an end, and so she felt vulnerable, somehow, to David Ronan and the memories of pain and love that came with him.

As she moved carefully into the next aisle, her insides filled with an awful, heavy guilt. She remembered Arch, years earlier, in the hour before they left for the Ronan cocktail party. Arch teased her because she stood in the closet in her bra and panties with a glass of white wine debating what to wear. She put on a sundress, then declared it too matronly and went with silk pants and a skimpy halter. Arch whistled in such a way that let her know the outfit was too sexy. She poured herself another glass of wine and changed her top.

You’re making a big deal out of this, Beth,
Arch said.

No, I’m not.

The guy’s crazy about you. He always has been. He’ll think you look beautiful whatever you wear.

Shut up,
she said.
Why aren’t you jealous?

Why should I be jealous? I got you in the end, didn’t I? I’m happy to go. I want to gloat.

That was Arch through and through. Never jealous, only proud. That was the perfect way in which he loved her. At the party, Beth drank too much, laughed too loudly in conversation with Rosie Ronan, and stumbled on her way out, catching the heel of her sandal between the flagstones of the walk. The ride home was the closest she had ever come to telling Arch the truth about David, but blessedly, she’d kept her mouth shut. Back at Horizon, Arch put her to bed with two aspirin and a glass of ice water, kissed her forehead and deemed the night an enormous success.

Long ago, Beth had decided that every man, woman, and child had the right to one secret. One piece of private history, and hers was David Ronan.

But what did she care about David Ronan now? The way she reacted probably made him think she was still in love with him. She should find him and try to act like a normal person. Set things straight.

Beth abandoned her cart and hurried through the store until she spotted the red of David’s shirt in the dairy section. She stopped. He was buying—What? Milk, half-and-half, two packages of Philadelphia cream cheese. She moved in front of him.

“Oh,” he said. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry I acted strangely back there,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” David said. “I was just thinking how awful it must be for you. And the kids.”

“And Arch’s mother, and Arch’s partners, and his clients, one of whom narrowly escaped death row. It amazes me. He was just one person but he left behind such a big hole.”

“He was a good man,” David said. “I feel lucky to have met him.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it, Beth.”

She looked at him and realized that she’d been avoiding his eyes this whole time. He smiled. His face was as familiar to her as the faces of her own brothers. She’d devoted so many hours to studying it when she was younger.

“Okay, listen, let’s not make excuses. Will you bring your family for dinner on Friday?”

He frowned. “Friday?”

“Are you busy? It would be great if Winnie and Garrett could meet your girls and we have another boy their age staying with us this summer. It’ll be fun. We’ll cook out?”

“Thanks for the offer, Beth, but I …”

“You won’t come?”

“Well, you haven’t let me explain.”

“Okay, explain.”

He put his hand over his mouth and wiped at his lips. “I’ll explain on Friday, I guess. It’s too much to go into here. What time would you like us?”

“How about seven?”

“Fine. We’ll see you then. Friday at seven.”

“You remember the house?”

“You’re kidding, right?” David asked.

“Right,” Beth said. How could he forget Horizon, the house her father threw him out of so many years ago? David left her with a little dance step, a wave and a half-turn in which he gathered up a dozen eggs and disappeared around a display of meringue cookies. Beth took a minute to regroup. The Ronan family was coming for dinner. Perfect. Right? Beth hoped she hadn’t made things worse by trying to make them better.

She found her cart and resumed shopping. She went back to produce and selected eight russet potatoes and three pounds of asparagus. An additional head of lettuce. Rib-eye steaks, butter, sour cream. Some Ben & Jerry’s. She wasn’t a gourmet cook like Rosie Ronan, but that was okay. She wouldn’t go to any great lengths; she would wear jeans and flip-flops. Having old friends for a cookout was no big deal. It was just one of the things you did in the summertime.

As soon as his mother got home, Garrett realized something had happened at the store. Or maybe it was just the effect of Nan-tucket on his mother’s brain. He heard the car swing into the driveway and then the car horn and his mother proclaiming, “Kids, I’m home!”

Garrett was the only one around. Marcus and Winnie were swimming together and Garrett watched them from the deck, the two of them trying to do the butterfly against the tough surf. Garrett wouldn’t admit to any racist feelings except for when it came to Marcus and his sister. Winnie fawned all over the guy, which wasn’t surprising considering how mentally unstable she’d become, but Garrett was damned if he were going to stand by and let Marcus fuck his sister. He was the man of the house, now. He’d kill Marcus before allowing that to happen.

Garrett walked through the house and out the front door to help his mother with the groceries. She looked different. She looked manic, overexcited; like a kid who’d eaten too much Halloween candy.

“Thanks, sweetie. Thanks a million. You’ve been such a big help today. Really, I mean it. You’ve been an angel.”

“Mom?”

Beth sailed into the kitchen and flung open all of the cabinet doors. “I forget, every year, where we put things. I guess it doesn’t matter. We can make it up as we go along!”

It occurred to Garrett that his mother had been drinking. Or maybe she’d popped the pills that Dr. Schau gave her (their mother was the only one to get pills). Garrett unloaded the bags and handed groceries to his mother. She was moving around the kitchen like she’d been shot out of a pinball machine. Bouncing around with all this extra energy.

Garrett is very sensitive to other people’s moods,
Mrs. Marshall had written on his end-of-the-year student evaluation.
He is tuned in to their needs, desires, and intentions.
It was true, he thought. He could read other people in a matter of seconds. Some people might call it intuition, but that word sounded too feminine. Garrett preferred the word “perceptive.” Like a detective. Or a writer. Or like Dr. Schau, who could tell what you were thinking before you even opened your mouth. Right now, watching his mother, Garrett knew something had happened at the store. He pulled out the steaks.

“Why so many steaks?” Garrett said.

“Steaks?” his mother cried out. She knit her brow as though she didn’t know what he was referring to, as though it was easy to forget what must have been a hundred dollars worth of steaks in one of the bags. Just repeating that word, “steaks,” was as good as lying.

“Why so many?” Garrett asked.

“Well, because,” his mother said. “There are four of us and we’re having four dinner guests on Friday.”

Garrett dropped his ass into a kitchen chair. It squealed, but thankfully did not break. “
Dinner
guests?”

“Before you get all worked up, let me tell you who it is,” his mother said. “It’s my friend David from growing up, his wife, and their two
teenage daughters.
You know, girls, girls, girls. I thought you’d thank me. It seems like all your friends here are either at camp or their parents moved to the Hamptons.”