“He lives around here now,” Summer said flatly.
“You are kidding.” Marquez peered at Summer. “Whoa, wait a minute. You are not kidding?”
“What are the odds?” Diana said, leaning back in her chair with a cool smile.
“He just said hello,” Summer said. “He brought me some muffins.”
“Hmm…is that what they call it in Minnesota?” Diana inquired. She leaned toward Marquez. “He brought her muffins in a major way, if you get my drift.”
“Diana!” Summer nearly shouted. “We were not kissing, if that’s what you’re thinking. We were…thinking about kissing, I admit, but that’s all. At the last minute we didn’t. And even if we had kissed—which we didn’t—it would have been just for old times’ sake.”
She finished her speech just as the waitress approached. She was a pretty black girl about their age, wearing the worn expression of someone near the end of her shift. She placed plates of hamburgers and fries in front of Diana and Summer.
“You sure you don’t want anything?” she asked Marquez.
“I’m fine,” Marquez said.
“I’ve got plenty of cash, Marquez,” Diana offered, “if—”
“I’m not destitute, I’m just not hungry, Mom.”
“Okay, then. You need anything else here?” the girl asked.
“Yeah,” Marquez muttered. “An apartment would be nice.”
The girl shook her head. “It’s tough finding anything on Coconut. You’ve got students and retirees and snowbirds all fighting for the same real estate.” She snapped her fingers. “You know, though, there might be a place…but no, it’s kind of weird. You’re looking for a three-bedroom?”
“We’re looking for anything with a roof and a toilet,” Summer said.
“I’d settle for a Porta Potti,” Marquez said.
“You mind if I sit?” The girl straddled a chair. “Sorry, I’m breaking in new Docs. I’m Blythe, by the way.”
“That’s Diana,” Summer said, “that’s Marquez, and I’m Summer.”
“Cool name.” Blythe smiled. “The thing is—” She lowered her voice. “There’s a place here. On the top floor. I probably shouldn’t say anything, ’cause it might be taken, but it’s sort of cool, in a weird way. It’s this converted attic, so all the walls are slanted, and I think maybe there are only two bedrooms. There’s a little pool out back, and you can see the ocean, which is great. The landlady—my boss—is completely wacky, but it’s a great location and dirt cheap. I live on the second floor.”
“You think we could take a look at it?” Summer asked hopefully.
“See, there’s this new guy working here—he is so gorgeous, incidentally, and the girls are falling all over themselves. But anyway, he might be taking it. I don’t know. I haven’t worked with him in a few shifts. Could be he found another place.”
“This would be so perfect,” Marquez cried. “We’d be right in the center of town, and the ocean’s right there, and I’d be close to Di—” She snapped her jaw closed.
“Close to what?” Summer asked.
“Or should we say whom?” Diana asked.
“Who,” Marquez corrected.
“No, whom,” Diana said.
“I’m pretty sure it’s who—”
“Who, what, which, whatever, just tell us what the deal is!” Diana snapped.
Marquez rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say anything because I knew it would freak Summer out.” She paused. “The thing is, Diver might be moving down here. There’s a wildlife place, like the one he works at, opening up, and he’s going to apply. So it’s not definite or anything. Besides, he’s going to be around, Summer, one way or another.”
“I know,” Summer said, tearing at her napkin. “It’s okay, Marquez. I have no right to interfere in your love life.”
“Well,” Blythe interrupted, looking a little uncomfortable, “I’ve got ketchup bottles to fill.”
“Sorry,” Marquez apologized. “We got sidetracked there on personal stuff.”
“I know how that goes.” Blythe stood and pushed in her chair. “Tell you what. I’ll ask my boss about the place. If Austin doesn’t want it, maybe you can go on up and take a peek. It’s probably a mess—”
“Austin.” Summer said it in a very low voice.
“Yeah, he’s the new guy.”
“Tall, dark, looks like trouble?” Diana asked.
Blythe grinned. “That’s the one.”
Summer pushed back her plate. “We are outta here.”
“Wait a minute, Summer,” Marquez pleaded, grabbing her arm. “Can’t we at least take a look at it?”
“I am not living where Austin works,” Summer declared. “No way.”
“I take it you know Austin?” Blythe asked.
“Oh, she knows him, all right,” Diana said.
“Oh. Like, knows him.”
“Only I’m trying very hard not to know him anymore,” Summer said sternly. “I’m sorry, Marquez, but we’ll just have to keep looking.”
“We’ve been looking.” Marquez crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t see why your personal life is the only deciding factor here. I am practically broke and soon to be homeless. I need a job and I need a place, and I need them fast. And between avoiding Austin and Diver, you’re going to end up making us live in Maine or something.”
Summer looked at Marquez with concern. Her hand was shaking just a little, and she looked near tears. It wasn’t like Marquez to get so worked up. Usually she’d just laugh it off and tell Summer to lighten up.
“You know,” Blythe said, “if you need a job, there’s always something here. The tips are nothing special, but you can scarf all the food you want.”
“I could have a job and an apartment, maybe,” Marquez said, glaring at Summer and managing to make her feel completely crummy.
“Marquez has a point,” Diana said. “I mean, if you and Austin are just friends, Summer, what’s there to worry about?”
Summer caught the gleam in her cousin’s eye. She knew what Diana was implying. If Summer was really committed to Seth, what was the problem?
Marquez was looking at her with hope, Diana with challenge. Fine, then. She could handle it. She could handle Austin Reed just fine.
“Ask your manager if the apartment’s available, would you, Blythe?” Summer said at last.
“And if it is?” Marquez challenged.
Summer took a deep breath. “And if it is,” she replied, “we’ll think about it.”
11
Constellations and Other Very Important Stuff
“Seth? Hi, it’s me.” Summer lay on her bed in the stilt house. Through the open kitchen window she could see the night sky, heavy with stars. The wind was up, and the waves grumbled loudly as they hit the shore. “I’m in the stilt house.”
“Is anything wrong?”
Summer could hear the concern in Seth’s voice. She tried to imagine him in his new apartment in California, the one he shared with other guys from the boat building company. But she couldn’t even seem to conjure up a decent image of his face.
“Nothing’s wrong, no.” She reached for the photo on her nightstand of Seth and her at the prom. They’d posed for the photo shortly after Seth had proposed. They looked breathless and dizzy, as though they’d just climbed off the world’s fastest roller coaster.
“How’s the apartment hunting going?”
Summer set the picture aside. “Um, we found one, maybe. It’s on Coconut Key, and Marquez and Diana really love it. But I’m not so sure.”
Seth laughed. “Like you three will ever agree on anything. Why don’t you like it?”
“Well, it’s on the top floor of this house, an attic, really. So the walls are all slanted.”
“And?”
“And that’s it. Who wants to live in a place where you have to walk tilted all the time?”
“Well, I guess I can see your point. This place I’m sharing isn’t exactly a palace. It’s ri
ght near my job, which is cool, but sharing an apartment with three other slobby guys isn’t paradise. I wish it were you instead.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you more. How’s your ring holding up?”
Summer held out her hand. The diamond winked at her in reproach. “So far, so good. I almost took it off to do the dishes today, but I was afraid I’d lose it.”
“Don’t lose it, whatever you do. It wiped out my savings.”
“I love you, Seth.”
“I love you, too.”
“I should hang up. It’s late.”
“Okay. I’ll call you next.”
“You hang up first,” Summer said.
“No, you.”
“I love you,” Summer said. She started to disconnect, then hesitated. “You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, this time I’m really hanging up.” She heard Seth saying “I love you” again as she clicked off the phone.
Summer closed her eyes, listening to the relentless waves. What’s wrong with the apartment? Well, I’ll tell you, Seth. It’s just a few steps away from Austin, and something tells me that’s not exactly the ideal location.
After a few moments Summer reached for the phone and punched in her phone number in Bloomington. Was it really her number anymore? Where was home now? The stilt house? The University of Wisconsin, where she and Seth would be going to school that fall? Some slant-walled attic apartment on Coconut Key?
When she heard her mother’s voice, Summer’s eyes pooled with tears. “Mom? Did I wake you?”
“No, I was just putzing around, waiting for Leno to come on. You okay, honey?”
“I’m okay. I just…I miss you, is all.”
“Oh, I miss you, too, hon. This house is just so empty now, with Diver and you…and your dad…gone. I feel sort of abandoned.”
“Are you holding up all right?”
“Oh, you know. Good days, bad days. Hey, guess what I did today? I got an application to U of M. I’m thinking of going back to school, maybe getting my master’s in social work. What do you think?”
“I think that’s fantastic, Mom.”
“Me, too. Although it scares the hell out of me. Wouldn’t that be so crazy—mother and daughter in college at the same time?” She laughed a little too hard.
“I wish I were home. I’d take you out to celebrate.”
“Well, I’ll see you plenty this fall. UW’s just a quick drive. I’ll force you to come visit me in my dorm room.”
“You’re not really getting a dorm room?”
“No, no.” A pause. “But the thing is, honey…Dad and I are going to go ahead with the divorce for sure. And when everything’s finalized, well, we both agree there’s no point in keeping this big old house.”
Summer took a shuddery breath. “You’re going to sell the house?”
“We have to, Summer. It just wouldn’t make sense to keep it. Maybe I’ll get one of those condos in Edina—you know, the fake gingerbready ones out by the mall?”
“Those are cute,” Summer said without feeling.
“Don’t be sad, honey.”
“I’m not. I mean, I am. But I’m sadder for you.”
“Don’t be. I’m a tough old broad.”
“You’re not so old,” Summer said. She gazed out the window. The stars were cluttered in the sky like tossed silver coins. She wondered how astronomers made sense out of them all. Seth knew lots of constellations—Orion and Aquarius and Pegasus, all those.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you ever think, when you married Dad, that it would turn out this way? Did you have any doubts that maybe he wasn’t the right one, maybe there was someone else even more…right?”
Her mother laughed. “Oh, I suppose so. I think everybody does. Everybody who’s honest with herself.” She hesitated. “Your dad and I were so young when we got married. How can you make a decision at the age of nineteen that’s supposed to last the rest of your life?” She paused again. “It’s something you should think about, too, sweetheart.”
Summer took a deep breath. “I know,” she said. “I will.”
After she hung up, Summer closed her eyes and hugged her pillow and tried to picture Seth. But to her frustration, Austin kept making unannounced appearances. Finally she turned her attention to the stars hugging the horizon. She thought maybe she saw Orion, but it was hard to tell.
She’d have to ask Seth. He would know for sure.
“Just one more thing,” Marquez promised.
Diver looked at her incredulously. He’d been packing her Honda all morning, despite heat in the low nineties. His shoulders and chest shone with sweat. His face was flushed. He looked as frustrated as Diver ever really looked—mellow, by most people’s standards, but Marquez knew better.
“I can’t leave Geraldo behind.”
“Geraldo,” Diver repeated. “The mangy, smelly, stained stuffed elephant you keep on your bed?”
“That mangy elephant knows all my deepest, darkest secrets.”
Diver smiled grudgingly. “Well, then, bring the dude along. So what if I have to ride on the roof?”
“He’ll fit. He’s mushy.”
“Where will he fit, exactly?”
He pointed to the car in the driveway of Marquez’s soon-to-be-former house. The entire backseat and trunk overflowed with art supplies, half-dead plants, clothes in Hefty bags, framed paintings from Marquez’s art classes, photo albums, a handful of mismatched pots and pans Marquez’s mother had left for her, sheets and pillows, and a huge cardboard box marked Very Important Stuff.
“There’s room on the passenger side,” Marquez said. “Geraldo can ride on your lap.”
Diver wiped his brow with the back of his arm. “It’s a good thing that I love you.”
When they were finally done lugging things out to the car, Marquez stood in her vast, empty bedroom, which had been a ground-floor ice cream parlor once upon a time. The hardwood floor was spattered with color, a Crayola-box palette of drizzles and splashes. But it was on the walls that Marquez had truly left her mark. Giant murals extended from floor to ceiling, the once bare brick covered with dazzling scenes. Palm trees and birds, sunsets and sunrises, anything and everything that she’d felt like painting over the years. There were names, too, a graffitilike maze of friends and teachers, movie star crushes and boys of the month.
“Jared Leto, huh?” Diver murmured, his arm draped around Marquez’s shoulder as they studied a wall.
“Just a passing phase.”
Marquez caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. She was wearing a pair of old shorts she’d almost given up on. Now they hung loosely on her. Still, her butt looked disgustingly huge. She tugged down her baggy T-shirt, hoping to disguise the awful truth.
“What was there?” Diver pointed to the thick layer of black paint in the corner, where bits and pieces of red letters still poked through.
Marquez shrugged. “J.T. He got spray-painted out of existence.”
“I wish it were that easy,” Diver said softly.
Marquez looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Just that it takes time, that’s all.” He moved close to the wall, running his fingers over the glossy layers of paint. “Where am I?”
“There, next to Summer’s name.”
“Linked by blood and paint.”
“Let’s go,” Marquez muttered. Suddenly she couldn’t stand it anymore. She could imagine the new people coming in, bitching about the way she’d ruined the room, painting over the walls in some sunny pastel. Well, it would take about a hundred layers of off-white latex to cover those walls. She could take some satisfaction in that, at least.
They left the house quietly. Marquez locked the door behind her. “You’ll have new walls soon,” Diver assured her.
“Not like those.” Marquez climbed into the front seat of her Honda. The sun-heated vinyl sea
t burned her thighs.
“Well, at least you managed to talk Summer into taking the apartment,” Diver said as he climbed in beside her, Geraldo clutched in his arms.
“After two more wasted days of searching,” Marquez said with a grin. “That girl can be stubborn. But she caved in the end.”
Diver nodded thoughtfully. “She can be tough to get through to.”
“Family trait,” Marquez said affectionately, patting Diver’s knee. “It’s in your blood.”
“Maybe. I don’t know, though. My dad…my other dad…he was stubborn, too.”
“You mean the one who took you?”
Diver nodded.
“How about his wife?”
There was no answer. Diver was busy trying to reattach Geraldo’s right eye.
“Diver?” Marquez said gently. “If you ever wanted to talk about them, you could. You know that, right?”
“I know. But that’s over. I want it to go away.”
Marquez started the car. She wasn’t going to push it. She and Diver were alike that way. They didn’t like to dissect things and dwell on them, the way Summer and Diana did. When Marquez felt bad, she liked to drive or dance or paint. A couple of times, when she’d felt really low, she’d even tried drinking. But that had left her with worse feelings and horrible hangovers. So now she stuck to her art, mostly.
Diver, when he felt bad, just stared at the ocean and climbed inside himself. It made Marquez feel a little lonely when that happened, but she understood why he did it, and she didn’t push.
“Well, good-bye, house,” she said softly, backing out of the drive. She wiped away a tear, feeling annoyed. It was just a house, not a shrine.
She drove down the narrow streets of the key, passing familiar landmarks along the way. The spot where her brother Miguel had broken his wrist skate-boarding. The corner of Palm and Lido, where she’d kissed her sixth-grade crush on a dare. The Crab ’n’ Conch, where the food was lousy and the service wasn’t a whole lot better.
“I think I may have a job,” Marquez said as she braked at the four-way stop in the center of town. Two guys shouldering a red surfboard sauntered past. “Waiting tables at this café place on the ground floor of our apartment building. The landlady owns it. She says I can pick up shifts, see how I do.”