Elin Hilderbrand - Summer People

Beth jogged to the end of the street. The roads in this development all wound back into each other somehow, but Beth wasn’t sure exactly how, and so she returned past David’s house. It was a nice property, she thought. An actual house rather than a summer cottage like Horizon. It had heat, insulation, a garage. Without thinking, Beth ran into the gravel driveway. It was as if her feet weren’t connected to her brain. All Beth could do was narrate to Kara Schau in her mind.

I went inside David’s house when he wasn’t home. The door was open. I knew it would be. I wanted to look around.

The house was neat. The kitchen was painted bright blue and there was a package of hamburger defrosting on the counter. There were photographs on the refrigerator-of the girls and David mostly, but some of Rosie. I wasn’t surprised because Rosie is still the girls’ mother, she’s still part of their life as a family. It bugged me a little that Rosie was so beautiful in the pictures-the long hair and the long legs like Piper. And the stomach and ass like she never gave birth to one child, much less two. I spent a fair amount of time studying the pictures of Rosie. Then I went upstairs to David’s bedroom. His bed was made. He had a copy of the New Yorker on the nightstand. That caught my eye because I was reading the same issue, and then I wondered if he’d bought it because he knew I had read it.

I went into his bathroom, and this was when I began to wonder if I was losing my mind. What was I doing snooping around David’s house? I found a framed picture of Rosie and David on their wedding day. The picture was sitting on top of a small bureau and a reflection of the picture was in the bathroom mirror, which was how I noticed it. David looked so young. He was my David, but he had his arm wrapped around Rosie’s tiny waist. They both looked very tan and very happy. The picture made me strangely jealous. I was in Manhattan the summer they got married, the summer after David and I split, and I felt as if Rosie had somehow snatched away what was mine-though of course that wasn’t the case. Without thinking twice, I flipped the picture down.

Then I heard a noise downstairs and I nearly leapt out the window. A man yelled out, “UPS!” So I jogged down the stairs and there was the nice UPS boy holding out a manila envelope. He said, “Mrs. Ronan?” And Inodded. He showed me where to sign. Elizabeth Ronan.

Beth left shortly thereafter and ran home thinking, Forgive me, Arch. I am sicker than I thought.

That night, she bought lobsters for dinner. She lugged the big cooking pot up from the basement, she melted a pound of butter, quartered lemons, and shucked some early corn.

“We’re going to do it right,” she said to Marcus and Winnie when they came up the stairs from the beach. “Lobster dinner.”

Marcus eyed the dark creatures suspiciously as they lumbered across the counter. “They’re still alive.”

Winnie’s forehead crinkled. “She’s going to boil them alive. They scream. I’ve heard them.”

“They do not scream,” Beth said. “This is a treat. A luxury. Where’s your brother?”

“Upstairs in his room, moping,” Winnie said. “He spent the afternoon writing Piper a letter. I told him that by the time he mailed it, she’d be home. He said it’s for her to read when she gets back.”

“You shouldn’t give your brother a hard time,” Beth said. “It’s nice that he found a friend.”

“He said you’re taking him to get his license tomorrow,” Winnie said. “True?”

“True,” Beth said. “Does that bother you? Do you want to take your driver’s test, too? You haven’t practiced much.”

“I’m not ready yet,” Winnie said. “I’d fail.”

“Dinner’s in thirty minutes,” Beth said. As she set the table with the lobster crackers and plastic bibs and butter warmers, she thought about how, at heart, she didn’t want Garrett to get his driver’s license. Once the word “accident” popped into her brain, it was impossible to stop worrying. Another horrible accident. But the good news was that when Garrett got his license, Beth wouldn’t have to see David as often. In fact, she might not see him at all.

I’m sicker than I thought.

Beth dropped the lobsters into the boiling water, then left the kitchen, in case they did scream.

There was something festive about the way the table looked with a scarlet lobster sitting on each plate, but Beth seemed to be the only one who was excited about it. Garrett slouched miserably in his chair, and Winnie picked her lobster up by the claw and plopped it into the bowl meant for empty shells.

“I’m not eating that.”

Marcus was inspecting his plastic bib. “Weird,” he said. “This is a bib like a baby wears.”

Garrett and Winnie hadn’t even deigned to acknowledge their bibs. “It’s to keep the melted butter off your shirt,” Beth said.

Marcus frowned, but tied the bib behind his neck anyway. “If you say so.”

Beth secured her own bib in solidarity, then she lifted her glass of white wine. “Cheers, everyone! Happy summer.”

“What do I do with this thing?” Marcus asked, wielding his lobster cracker.

Garrett rolled his eyes and huffed a little.

“Sorry,” Marcus said. “We don’t eat a lot of boiled lobster in Queens.”

Beth showed Marcus how to crack open the claws, and she separated the meat of the tail from the shell. This, she knew, was the kind of scene Arch had in mind when he invited Marcus to Nantucket. “You’re going to love this,” she said. “When you get the meat free, you dip it in the melted butter.”

Garrett cracked his lobster. Winnie helped herself to a roll, which she tore into pieces. Once Marcus tasted the lobster, his face brightened. “This is great!” he said. “This is delicious.” He picked up the extra lobster. “I’ll eat Winnie’s if she doesn’t want it.”

“Go ahead,” Winnie said.

Beth sipped her wine. She felt empty, scooped out. As a kid, lobster night was magical. It was symbolic of a good, rich life. Her parents always drank too much wine on lobster night; they sang the old songs. Falling in love again… I can’t help it. Now here she sat, alone, with her recalcitrant twins and this boy whose life was anything but good and rich. Beth felt tears coming, but no, she wouldn’t ruin it. She was going to work with what she had. Garrett and Marcus were both eating. Winnie had torn up her roll and was now tentatively considering an ear of corn. Beth picked the snowy flesh out of her lobster claw, dunked it in butter and let the taste fill her mouth. She was doing the best she could.

“Piper comes home tomorrow?” she asked Garrett.

“Friday.”

“It’s nice to have you around for a change. We haven’t sat down to dinner like this in a while.”

“We should go out more,” Winnie said. “When Daddy was here, we used to go out more.”

“What do you care if we go out or stay in?” Garrett asked. “You never eat.”

“Shut up, man,” Marcus said. “I’ve seen Winnie eat plenty.”

“Thank you,” Winnie said.

“Maybe we should go out,” Beth said. “Maybe all of us should go out when Piper gets back.”

“Who cares about Piper?” Winnie said.

“I’ll take Piper out alone, thanks,” Garrett said. “And if you want to go out with David alone, then just go. Don’t use me as an excuse to see him.”

“Who said anything about wanting to go out with David?” Beth asked. She ripped off one of the lobster’s legs and sucked the juice out of it. “Are you ready for your driver’s test tomorrow?”