Nicholas Sparks: Message in a Bottle

“Oh, hi. Of course he’s here. Hold on for just a second.”

The phone clunked down on the counter and Theresa listened as Annette called for him: “Kevin, it’s for you. Theresa’s on the phone.”

The fact that she wasn’t referred to as Kevin’s mom hurt more than she expected, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Kevin was out of breath when he reached the phone.

“Hey, Mom. How’re you doing? How’s your vacation?”

She felt a pang of loneliness at the sound of his voice. It was still high, childlike, but she knew it was only a matter of time before it changed.

“It’s beautiful, but I only got here yesterday night. I haven’t done much except for jogging this morning.”

“Were there a lot of people on the beach?”

“No, but I saw a few people heading out as I finished. Hey, when do you take off with your dad?”

“In a couple days. His vacation doesn’t start until Monday, so that’s when we leave. Right now he’s getting ready to go into the office to do some work so that he’ll be free and clear by the time we go. Do you want to talk to him?”

“No, I don’t have to. I was just calling to tell you that I hope you’ll have a good time.”

“It’s going to be a blast. I saw a brochure on the river trip. Some of the rapids look pretty cool.”

“Well, you be careful.”

“Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I know. Just reassure your old-fashioned mother.”

“Okay, I promise. I’ll wear my life jacket the whole time.” He paused for a moment. “You know, we’re not going to have a phone, though, so we won’t be able to talk until I get back.”

“I figured as much. It should be a lot of fun, though.”

“It’ll be awesome. I wish that you could come with us. We’d have a great time.”

She closed her eyes for a moment before responding, a trick her therapist had taught her. Whenever Kevin said something about the three of them being together again, she always tried to make sure she said nothing that she’d later regret. her voice sounded as optimistic as she could make it.

“You and your dad need some time alone. I know he’s missed you a lot. You’ve got some catching up to do, and he’s been looking forward to this trip as long as you have.” There, that wasn’t so hard .

“Did he tell you that?”

“Yes. A few times.”

Kevin was quiet.

“I’ll miss you, Mom. Can I call you as soon as I get back to tell you about the trip?”

“Of course. You can call me anytime. I’d love to hear all about it.” Then, “I love you, Kevin.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

She hung up the phone, feeling both happy and sad, which was how she usually felt whenever they talked on the phone when he was with his father.

“Who was that?” Deanna said from behind her. She had come down the stairs wearing a yellow tiger-striped blouse, red shorts, white socks, and a pair of Reeboks. Her outfit screamed “I’m a tourist!” and Theresa did her best to keep a straight face.

“It was Kevin. I gave him a call.”

“Is he doing okay?” She opened the closet and grabbed a camera to complete the ensemble.

“He’s fine. He leaves in a couple of days.”

“Good, that’s good.” She draped the camera around her neck. “And now that that’s taken care of, we have some shopping to do. We’ve got to get you looking like a new woman.”

* * *

Shopping with Deanna was an experience.

Once they got to Provincetown, they spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in a variety of shops. Theresa bought three new outfits and a new swimsuit before Deanna dragged her into a place called Nightingales, a lingerie shop.

Deanna went absolutely wild in there. Not for herself, of course, but for Theresa. She would pick up lacy, see-through underwear and matching bras off the racks and hold them up for Theresa to evaluate. “This looks pretty steamy,” she’d say, or, “You don’t have any this color, do you?” Naturally there would be others around as she blurted these things out, and Theresa couldn’t help but laugh whenever she did it. Deanna’s lack of inhibition was one of the things that Theresa loved most about her. She really didn’t care what other people thought, and Theresa often wished she could be more like her.

After taking two of Deanna’s suggestions—she was on vacation, after all—the two spent a couple of minutes in the record store. Deanna wanted the latest CD from Harry Connick Jr.—“He’s cute,” she said in explanation—and Theresa bought a jazz CD of one of John Coltrane’s earlier recordings. When they returned to the house, Brian was reading the paper in the living room.

“Hey there. I was beginning to get worried about you two. How was your day?”

“It was good,” Deanna answered. “We had lunch in Provincetown, then did a little shopping. How did your game go today?”

“Pretty well. If I hadn’t bogeyed the last two holes, I would have shot an eighty.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to play a little more until you get it right.”

Brian laughed. “You won’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

Brian smiled as he rustled the paper, content with the fact that he could spend a lot of time on the course this week. Recognizing his signal that he wanted to get back to reading, Deanna whispered in Theresa’s ear, “Take it from me. Let a man play golf and he’ll never raise a fuss about anything.”

* * *

Theresa left the two of them alone for the rest of the afternoon. Since the day was still warm, she changed into the new suit she had bought, grabbed a towel and small fold-up chair and People magazine, then went to the beach.

She thumbed idly through People, reading a few articles here and there, not really interested in what was happening to the rich and famous. All around her she could hear the laughter of children as they splashed in the water and filled their pails with sand. Off to one side of her were two young boys and a man, presumably their father, building a castle near the water’s edge. The sound of the lapping waves was soothing. She put down the magazine and closed her eyes, angling her face toward the sun.

She wanted a little color by the time she got back to work, if for no other reason than to look as though she had taken some time to do absolutely nothing. Even at work she was regarded as the type who was always on the go. If she wasn’t writing her weekly column, she was working on the column for the Sunday editions, or researching on the Internet, or poring over child development journals. She had subscriptions at work to every major parenting magazine and every childhood magazine, as well as others devoted to working women. She also subscribed to medical journals, scanning them regularly for topics that might be suitable.

The column itself was never predictable—perhaps that was one of the reasons it was so successful. Sometimes she responded to questions, other times she reported on the latest child development data and what it meant. A lot of columns were about the joys that came with raising children, while others described the pitfalls. She wrote of the struggles of single motherhood, a subject that seemed to touch a nerve in the lives of Boston women. Unexpectedly, her column had turned her into a local celebrity of sorts. But even though it was fun in the beginning to see her picture above her column, or to receive invitations to private parties, she always had so much going on, she didn’t seem to have time to enjoy it. Now she regarded it as just another feature of the job—one that was nice but didn’t really mean much to her.

After an hour in the sun, Theresa realized she was hot and walked to the water. She waded in to her hips, then went under as a small wave approached. The cool water made her gasp when her head came up, and a man standing next to her chuckled.