imagine why. It was such a relief to have made it here again, to all be together at last . . . this one last time. In the weeks leading up to my arrival, I’d worried something bad would happen and I wouldn’t make it. My immune system was poor. I caught every cold, every stomach bug that went by. Last week I became almost paranoid about germs, washing my hands constantly with antibacterial soap. I was afraid the universe was going to turn against me, that lightning was going to strike, that something awful was going to happen to prevent me from seeing my Lilly, my Janine, and my Aurora.
But here I was, at last.
Lilly’s story came to an end, and she drank water from a glass. Her bracelets jingled on her wrist. She was delicate, our Lilly, even with her big belly. Her hands were small. Her wrists were small. I’d always been envious that she could wear bangle bracelets, and I, with my big manly hands, could rarely find any that fit.
I reached for my glass of wine. I was only going to allow myself one tonight. I was hoping to avoid a repeat of the previous night’s bed-spin.
Everyone was quiet for a moment. There was just the chirping of insects in the beach grass below and the rhythmic pulse of the waves. I could vaguely hear the whirl of the exhaust fan, left on in the kitchen.
Aurora sipped her gin and tonic. She and Janine had moved on to the hard stuff as soon as we ditched the dinner plates. For Aurora, it was gin. For Janine, Jack Daniel’s. The girl can hold her whiskey like nobody’s business.
A minute or two passed before I realized that everyone was looking at me. At least stealing glances. I felt uncomfortable, and I adjusted my bony butt in my chair.
Aurora rose and went to sit on the porch rail, balancing on it, butt and feet on the narrow, white beam. “Okay, McKenzie. You might as well get it over with,” she said, not looking at me. “Tell us what’s going on with the tumors.”
I sensed she left the phrase open to give me a choice. I could tell them about the drug trial. Or not. I was standing with my decision. I wasn’t going to tell them. I wish I hadn’t even told Aurora. That was what I got for drinking too much.
That didn’t mean I didn’t feel a little guilty about it. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. I settled my gaze on the slatted sand fence that protruded from the dune in front of the house.
I’d been having so much fun all day that I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t want to talk about me. About it . I just wanted to be here together with them and talk and laugh and pretend nothing had changed. That nothing would ever change. I wanted to pretend that we’d all be back next summer, and the summer after that. I wanted to go down to the beach where the sand was soft, dig a big hole the way I used to when my daughters were little, and stick my head in it.
“She doesn’t have talk about it if she doesn’t want to.” Lilly wrapped her arms around her belly the way pregnant women do. Protectively. Only I felt as if, somehow, she was trying to protect me with her arms.
Janine poured herself another two fingers and didn’t say anything. I wondered how long it would be before she’d be drinking directly from the bottle.
I glanced at the German shepherd. No word from him, either.
I wrapped my hand around the stemless wineglass. Squeezed. Released. Someone had lit a citronella candle, even though there were no mosquitoes tonight, and set it on a little round table. I liked the smell. Some people didn’t, but I did. It reminded me of this place. Summers here. Summers when we were all happy . . . at least fairly so.
I could feel them waiting. Compelling me to speak.
“There’s not much to say.” I looked down at my feet. I was wearing a pair of old canvas Toms that had once belonged to one of my daughters. I could feel the grit of sand between the big and second toes of my left foot. I took my time, pulling my foot out of the shoe and wiggling my toes.
But here I was, at last.
Lilly’s story came to an end, and she drank water from a glass. Her bracelets jingled on her wrist. She was delicate, our Lilly, even with her big belly. Her hands were small. Her wrists were small. I’d always been envious that she could wear bangle bracelets, and I, with my big manly hands, could rarely find any that fit.
I reached for my glass of wine. I was only going to allow myself one tonight. I was hoping to avoid a repeat of the previous night’s bed-spin.
Everyone was quiet for a moment. There was just the chirping of insects in the beach grass below and the rhythmic pulse of the waves. I could vaguely hear the whirl of the exhaust fan, left on in the kitchen.
Aurora sipped her gin and tonic. She and Janine had moved on to the hard stuff as soon as we ditched the dinner plates. For Aurora, it was gin. For Janine, Jack Daniel’s. The girl can hold her whiskey like nobody’s business.
A minute or two passed before I realized that everyone was looking at me. At least stealing glances. I felt uncomfortable, and I adjusted my bony butt in my chair.
Aurora rose and went to sit on the porch rail, balancing on it, butt and feet on the narrow, white beam. “Okay, McKenzie. You might as well get it over with,” she said, not looking at me. “Tell us what’s going on with the tumors.”
I sensed she left the phrase open to give me a choice. I could tell them about the drug trial. Or not. I was standing with my decision. I wasn’t going to tell them. I wish I hadn’t even told Aurora. That was what I got for drinking too much.
That didn’t mean I didn’t feel a little guilty about it. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. I settled my gaze on the slatted sand fence that protruded from the dune in front of the house.
I’d been having so much fun all day that I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t want to talk about me. About it . I just wanted to be here together with them and talk and laugh and pretend nothing had changed. That nothing would ever change. I wanted to pretend that we’d all be back next summer, and the summer after that. I wanted to go down to the beach where the sand was soft, dig a big hole the way I used to when my daughters were little, and stick my head in it.
“She doesn’t have talk about it if she doesn’t want to.” Lilly wrapped her arms around her belly the way pregnant women do. Protectively. Only I felt as if, somehow, she was trying to protect me with her arms.
Janine poured herself another two fingers and didn’t say anything. I wondered how long it would be before she’d be drinking directly from the bottle.
I glanced at the German shepherd. No word from him, either.
I wrapped my hand around the stemless wineglass. Squeezed. Released. Someone had lit a citronella candle, even though there were no mosquitoes tonight, and set it on a little round table. I liked the smell. Some people didn’t, but I did. It reminded me of this place. Summers here. Summers when we were all happy . . . at least fairly so.
I could feel them waiting. Compelling me to speak.
“There’s not much to say.” I looked down at my feet. I was wearing a pair of old canvas Toms that had once belonged to one of my daughters. I could feel the grit of sand between the big and second toes of my left foot. I took my time, pulling my foot out of the shoe and wiggling my toes.
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