By then they were in his kitchen, and because we were in the dark we could see them through his windows quite clearly. She was tall and blond and young, perhaps even younger than Jackie. My heart sank, and for the umpteenth time I reconciled myself to the life of an old crone whose womanly worth was negligible to the world, a trifling thing unworthy of notice by the opposite sex, a burden to society. It could be worse, I thought. In many cultures, women my age were already dead.
“Holy crap!” Jackie said.
“What?”
“She’s a dead ringer for his dead wife.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“That’s probably normal,” I said. “I wonder how old she is.”
“It’s hard to tell, but I doubt if she’s even thirty. She has really thick hair.”
In our family, thick hair was a coveted attribute.
Suddenly the lights in his kitchen went out, and moments later they were outside on his deck. He turned off his porch lights and lit the candles in two of the big lanterns that bordered the edges of his deck, probably so that she wouldn’t go walking off the edge and break a leg.
“Well, isn’t he the Casanova with his mood lighting and all that,” Jackie said. “Next thing we know he’ll have Sinatra streaming.”
I imagined that streaming meant playing.
“And here I thought he was lighting the lanterns for safety reasons. Shows you how far out of the loop I am.”
“Oh, Mom,” Jackie said in sympathy. “We’ve got to do something about your romantic life at some point, don’t you think?”
“I’m afraid that’s a hopeless cause,” I said. “But that’s okay. I have you and Charlie to fill my heart.” To my way of thinking there was nothing less dignified than a middle-aged woman crying the blues about men.
We continued to watch them. They were standing together with a glass of something. He was pointing up to the sky, showing her some constellation or a UFO. Then they turned around and appeared to be walking in our direction.
I crouched down in my chair a little.
“God, Mom, what if they see us?”
“Oh, so what if they do? Steve Plofker doesn’t own the beach any more than I do.”
They did not notice us. Steve sat in one of his deck chairs and she stood behind him, massaging his shoulders. I watched as she leaned down and kissed him on his head. Even though I knew it was an inappropriate thought, something in me ached to slap the hell out of her.
“Well, look at that,” Jackie said.
“I thought you had no interest in him,” I said.
“I don’t, it’s just . . . look how she’s acting!”
“Hush! They’ll hear us. You know how voices travel on night air!”
But it was true. She was a no-good low-down depraved animal. They were standing, and she laid one on him that would’ve made Hugh Hefner gasp in shock. The next thing we saw was her leg crawl up around his hip and he put his hand squarely on her backside.
“Get a room, you two,” Jackie whispered in disgust.
As though they read her mind, they stopped and went inside. Were they going to his bedroom? Just as the lights went on, they went off. Steve and his harlot left the house, got into his car, and drove away.
“He’s taking her home, and he should be back in less than an hour. You can get to anywhere in Charleston and back at this time of night in less than an hour. Otherwise they’re having a little screw.”
“I’m gonna go with big screw, and who cares?”
Jackie looked at me with a kind of sad face. Did she think that I was disappointed to see Steve with someone more age-appropriate and presumably legally available than I was? Did she think I had gone through this makeover for him? Well, I was and I did and it was pathetic, but at that moment I didn’t care. I had never uttered one word about him I couldn’t defend, and there was nothing wrong with trying to feel good about myself.
“I’m going to go check on Charlie,” she said. “You want anything?”
“No, now that the lovebirds have flown the coop, I’m just going to sit here and enjoy a little more of this beautiful night.”
She went inside and left me to marinate in my sullen soup.
What was it about daughters that they could practically smell your thoughts? Of course I could feel her confusion about her feelings toward Steve. It was too soon for her to get involved with someone else. That would destabilize Charlie’s entire existence. But she was attracted to Steve in an odd kind of way. She didn’t even know it yet. Lord knows, Steve was the opposite of Jimmy McMullen. Jimmy had been a rough-and-tumble man’s man. Gregarious, clever, resourceful, generous—he was the kind of man who made you feel protected and safe. And somehow, at the very same time, the Devil danced all over the place in his beautiful eyes. You never knew what kind of surprise he had for you, just to make you laugh. He was not above the occasional placement of a whoopee cushion.
Steve was, well, serious. But he was a dermatologist, and his entire orientation to the world was naturally reserved, methodical, and more cerebral, because that was what was required to practice medicine. I had often observed his restraint to speak up or tell jolly stories about his practice or his childhood. He always wanted to hear your story, your news, your concerns. Steve’s eyes were not filled with merriment and caprice, but they were the kindest eyes in the world. Our doctor next door held his cards close to his chest, which, of course, made him that much more interesting.
It was time to turn in for the night, but I just didn’t want the day to end quite yet.
Jackie reappeared with a glass of water.
“Seafood makes me thirsty,” she said and sat down next to me. “Or maybe it was the fries.”
“Salt.”
“Probably. What’s up for tomorrow?”
“Hopefully another day like this one. Hopefully that storm turns and goes out to sea. Did you check the weather?”
“No, but I will. Whatcha thinking about?”
I stood up, stretched, and walked to the edge of the porch to look out over the dunes. “I was thinking, well, I was thinking what I always think when I’m standing here on a night like this.”
“Which is?”
“That this must be the most beautiful place on Earth. Don’t you agree?”
“I think this island has bewitched us all, Mom. I really do. Come on, let’s lock up the house.”
In the morning I began the impossible process of trying to duplicate the face I’d had the day before, and I decided at least I’d gotten my money’s worth with my hair. My hair was still looking very good. I decided to forgo makeup until I got back from my walk with Deb. I put on an old pair of Bermuda shorts and a baggy old T-shirt and called her.
“You ready to rock and roll?” I asked.
“Oh, Annie, I’ve got to take Vernon to the emergency room. He’s having chest pains.”
“Lord! Don’t tell me this! Do you want me to come with you? What can I do?”
“Not a thing. He’s already in the car. Listen, you and I know it’s just the low pressure from this silly storm, but what if I’m wrong? Anyway, I’ll call you when I get back. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“All right. I’ll say my magic novena.”
“Thanks.”
We hung up, and I thought about how the low pressure of hurricanes seemed to make so many babies come into the world early and how many poor souls depart unexpectedly. I didn’t know if there was proof of it, but if you asked any OB-GYN or geriatric nurse, she would nod her head in agreement. I hoped Vernon would be all right.
I poked my head inside Jackie’s and Charlie’s rooms. They were sleeping like logs, which is a stupid metaphor if there ever was one, but you get the picture. I decided to make a nice breakfast for everyone, and afterward maybe I could convince my grandson to take a walk with me. We’d bring the dogs and have fun.
I decided to make watermelon juice and French toast from a loaf of brioche and fry up some extra-thick bacon I’d bought
to make red rice. And for some reason, maybe I had seen it on some cooking program, I decided to add a sprig of rosemary and a cinnamon stick to the coffee grinds basket. Once the water started to drip through the coffee, the whole room smelled divine. The bacon was sizzling in my cast-iron skillet, and the French toast was ready to turn.
It wasn’t long before Jackie straggled in with her arm around Charlie’s shoulders.
“Jeez! What smells so good?” Charlie asked.
“Please don’t say “jeez,” Charlie. It sounds like you’re taking the Lord’s name in vain,” I said and looked at Jackie for backup.
“Everything smells good, and Glam is right,” Jackie said, inspecting all the pans. “Mom, if this doesn’t stop we’re going to gain fifty pounds!”
“Portion control! It’s all about moderation,” I said. “Charlie? Do you know how to use a blender?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Say, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Charlie baby.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Charlie said, like a good parrot.
“Well, let’s get those chunks of watermelon liquefied! Here, I’ll show you!”
“Don’t have to, Mom. He used to make frozen margaritas for us all the time,” Jackie said.
“What?” I was horrified!
“Mom! I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”
“That’s not funny, missy! Don’t you make me go cut a switch! You’re not too big for me to turn over my knee, you know.”
“I’d like to take a picture of that!” Charlie said. “I make milk shakes in the blender all the time.”
“Aha!” I said.
We had a good chuckle, and the mood in the room was just right.
“Well, I lost my walking buddy for today,” I said, putting plates in front of Jackie and Charlie. “Deb had to take Vernon into the ER again.”
“Blood pressure?” Jackie said. “This looks delicious, Mom.”
“Thanks. No. Not this time. He’s got chest pain,” I said, sliding a piece of soggy bread into the skillet for myself.
“This is delicious, Glam,” Charlie said, inserting a man-sized forkful into his mouth.
“Hmmm. Chest pain’s not something to mess around with,” Jackie said.
“Maybe someone else wants to comb the beach with me this morning?”
“I would, but I have to be downtown by eleven. I’m meeting the head of Human Resources at the VA. I think they want me to help with shifts. You know, a lot of nurses are trying to have one last vacation before the summer is over. It’s good money.”
“Well, I think that’s a wonderful idea!” I said and finally sat down with them. “Better than working for nothing, not that I don’t believe in volunteer work, because I certainly do.”
“Mom always says that if you pulled all the people out of my school that volunteer it would fall apart.”
“It probably would,” Jackie said.
“Well, I’m doing my talk on Poe at the library gratis,” I said.
“Did you and Deb finally settle on a date?” Jackie said.
“Halloween weekend,” I said.
“Well, we’ll have to check the calendar, because Mr. Charles over here has to start fifth grade on the twenty-second. At some point we have to go home. That’s awful soon to come back if we’re coming for Thanksgiving too.”
“Not going,” Charlie said very quietly.
“Yes, you are, Son.”
Hmmm, I thought, what am I missing here?
“Charlie, why don’t you and I walk the beach together this morning?”
“Well, okay, but we’d have to go soon because I’m meeting the kids from Greenville to go skateboarding in the parking lot at Fort Moultrie.”
“Skateboarding?”
“Yeah, you didn’t see it? Guster bought me this awesome skateboard!”
I got up and took their plates, rinsing them for the dishwasher. “Aren’t those things dangerous?”
“Mom? When you see Charlie on his skateboard—wearing his helmet, I might add—you’ll see that he owns the road.”
“Really? Well, then, I can’t wait! Drink your juice, darlin’.”
“It’s weird,” Charlie said.
“Well, then, don’t drink it,” I said. “It’s just juice.”
“Sorry, Glam.”
“It’s better with tequila in it anyway,” Jackie said and started to laugh. I gave her the hairy eyeball, and she laughed even harder. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me this morning.”
“I think your sense of humor is back in town,” I said, “and it’s been gone too long. Charlie, go get Stella and Stanley, and I’ll be done here by the time you get back.”
“I’m outta here!” Charlie said in a burst of energy, and he was gone. “Thanks for breakfast, Glam. The French toast was awesome!”
“What would the young ones do if they couldn’t say awesome and sweet?” Jackie asked. “Although, I gotta say, the French toast actually was awesome. Here, give me that towel. I’ll dry.”
Within the hour, Jackie was on her way to the city, the new darlings of the house, Stanley and Stella, having had their run, were curled up on my porch having their morning nap, and I was walking down the beach with Charlie, heading toward the lighthouse.
“It’s probably a good thing that I left the dogs at home,” Charlie said. “They’re so wild you’d have a hard time controlling even one of them.”
“I’m sure you’re right. The ocean looks angry today,” I said. “Do you know why?”
“Too many fish in there?”
“No, because there’s a tropical disturbance down by the Dominican Republic and it makes the water churn. Be sure that you and your friends stay out of the water today.”
“Even the gully?”
“No, you can swim in the gully at low tide, but don’t put your toes in the ocean. You might get caught in a rip tide and get carried out to sea. It’s a stupid way to die.”
“Okay. What’s a smart way to die?”
“At one hundred and twenty-five years old in your sleep with no pain. And with your hair and makeup done by Hailey from Allure.”
“Oh, Glam, you’re so silly.”
“Glam is clever, not silly. An important distinction. So what’s going on with you, young man?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, this morning at the breakfast table, I heard you mumble something about staying here.”
He dug his big toe into the cool sand and, looking very forlorn, drew a circle. “I wish I could.”
“I know. I wish you could too. But you can’t because you have to go back to school.”
“I hate New York.”
“You do? Why?”
“Because terrible things happen there. All Mom does is mope around the house, and it’s too sad. I don’t want to be sad, and I don’t want her to be sad either.”
“I don’t want y’all to be sad either.” Oh, Lord, I thought my heart was going to break.
“All we do is think about Dad and cry.”
“Oh, Charlie!”
“And I hate my school too.”
“Why, baby?”
“Because nobody cares about anybody.”
“Oh, sweetheart, even you know that can’t be entirely true.”
“No. It is true. People are jealous of every little thing and the big kids push around the little kids. And the teachers are a joke. They don’t do anything about it.”
“Oh, my darling boy. Don’t you think that the schools here have their fair share of bullies and negligent teachers? Of course they do!”
“Maybe. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Yes. And you know what? If you were here every day, maybe it wouldn’t be so special to you? Why don’t we get a calendar and let’s count the weekends until Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and let’s figure out how we’re going to get you back here for a good long stretch in the summer. I have lots of points on my credit card that I can use for airline tickets so you don’t have
to take that insufferable drive.”
“If you say so. That’s better than nothing.”
“It’s a heck of a lot better than nothing! Now, let’s cheer up, all right?”
We reached the rocks near the lighthouse and turned to go back. The eastern skies were forbidding and dark. There was a storm coming, but it would probably just be some rain and enough wind to bring in the hanging baskets and take the cushions off the porch chairs. I wasn’t particularly concerned with this squall. It didn’t even have a name. When they named the storms and said they were a category 4, that was when I checked my battery supplies and went to the store for water. Other than that, most people in the Lowcountry kept an eye on the weather reports but went on about their business and didn’t panic.
We were almost back to my house when Charlie announced that he was stopping off at his friends’ house. He wanted to be sure they were all up for the day and said he would be home shortly to pick up his skateboard. I knew he’d be safe, so I said all right and blew him a kiss. Then I burst into tears. He had no idea how desperately I wanted him and Jackie to stay, while I was so glad to see that he was beginning to focus on his own life again and I knew that the time they had spent here had been instrumental in both of them thinking about their lives going forward. And I knew that when they left I would be inconsolable. Absolutely inconsolable. But I couldn’t let either one of them see how I felt. If Jackie ever decided to move home, I wanted it to be her decision, not the result of me pushing her into something she’d blame me for later. I also realized how quickly I had become used to them being there. Each day had purpose, and I went from minute to minute, meal to meal, thinking how rejuvenated I felt to have the job of seeing about them. I hardly ever wept except in the movies, but now my tears were coming and coming, the unsummoned and unwelcome little shits. I hated to think what I must have looked like. Who cared anyway? No one. Realizing that no one cared about my tears, I cried all the more. Thank God the beach was relatively empty. I would have hated being caught looking like a doddering old fool.
When I walked over my beach steps, I could see someone on my porch. Who was it? Deb? No. As I got a little closer I could see it was Buster. Great. Old shirt. No makeup. Red nose running like an open faucet, and surely my eyes were bloodshot like hell. Great. Then I thought, Screw it. I don’t care what he thinks anyway.