Elin Hilderbrand - Summer People

“Come in,” he said.

Her hair was wet-from a shower, not the ocean. She wore the sweatshirt and a white tennis skirt with blue and red piping.

“A skirt,” he said. “That looks nice.”

She shrugged. “Fourth of July. Mom gets a big kick out of it.”

“I noticed.”

“No one cares about us being together, Marcus,” she said. “Trust me, I know.”

“Garrett cares. And your mother cares. She yelled at you at lunch. She’s never done that before.”

“She’s upset about something else. She’s upset about David.”

“What about him?”

“He’s coming with us tonight and I guess she doesn’t want him to.”

“Oh.”

Winnie closed the door and climbed on top of him. She lay her head on his chest and he could feel his heart pounding into her ear.

“Mom and Garrett don’t have time to worry about us,” Winnie said. “They have their own lives to worry about. So let’s just be ourselves, okay?”

Marcus looked around the room, which over the past four weeks had become as familiar to him as his own room: the wainscoted walls, the ceiling fan that didn’t work, his bed with the white cover. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore. He’d changed so much, he’d lost track. Last year everyone in his neighborhood stayed on the street until the fireworks over Shea Stadium ended. When Marcus and LaTisha went upstairs they found Constance asleep in front of the television; she liked to watch the Boston Pops. This year he applauded as little kids with streamers on their bikes rode up a cobblestone street in a procession. He had grilled hotdogs and homemade lemonade for lunch. And now he had a white girl lying across his body.

Sex grinned at Marcus from its post by the door. “You have to go,” Marcus said. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Winnie pressed her hips against his. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Marcus lifted her off of him. “Good way,” he said, knowing how this would thrill her. “Now go. ”

Later, Marcus helped Beth pack the picnic into coolers: fried chicken, potato salad, cucumbers in vinaigrette, deviled eggs, oatmeal cookies, iced tea, beer. She had a special red, white, and blue tablecloth, and all of the matching plates and napkins.

“This looks great,” Marcus said. And then, before he could stop himself, he said, “My mom always made coleslaw. With horseradish in it. It was a big hit.”

Beth stopped what she was doing and stared at him, and Marcus got the awful feeling that followed whenever Constance was mentioned. Marcus wished Winnie would come down and rescue him-but she was napping, and Garrett had taken the car to pick up Piper and Peyton. Marcus tucked a sleeve of plastic cups into the picnic basket.

“Oh, Marcus, I’m sorry,” Beth said. She got an unsteady vibe in her voice, like she might start to cry. “I didn’t even think what this would feel like for you. With your mother in jail, you probably don’t want to celebrate Independence Day.”

“Uh…” Marcus was caught off-guard. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Beth said. “It was insensitive of me. But we do this whole rigmarole every year, and I just thought that if I kept things normal they might start to feel normal.”

“I’m excited about a picnic,” Marcus said. “I’ve never been on an actual picnic, with a picnic basket and everything.”

Beth sank into one of the kitchen chairs, thinking that this was another thing Arch would have loved: taking Marcus on his first picnic. “You’re sure you don’t mind? Maybe we should just forget it.”

“I want to go,” he said.

Beth threw her hands into the air. “I don’t want to see David!” she said. “I should never have invited the girls, but I thought a big group of kids would be fun. Plus, David goes to the same party every year, at this huge house on the Cliff. But no! This year as soon as he hears the girls are coming with us, he decides to forget the party. He’s only coming along because he knows I don’t want him to.”

Marcus began to wonder if what Winnie said were true. Maybe Beth and Garrett were too consumed with their own lives to give their little romance a second thought. But before Marcus could pursue this reasoning further, he heard Beth whisper something under her breath.

“I’m sorry?” Marcus said. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said, I’m keeping a big secret from my children.”

She was crying now. Marcus handed her a red, white, and blue napkin. He sat quietly, wondering if she was going to tell him the secret. He felt extremely interested, but also ashamed at this interest. If she told him the secret, he might have to keep it from Winnie.

Beth crumpled her napkin and tossed it lamely in the direction of the trash can. Marcus had an urge to pick it up and throw it away, but he was rooted to his chair.

“It’s about David.”

Marcus let his eyelids droop, his standard defense when he heard something he didn’t like. “Please,” he said. He stalled, unsure of what to say. He liked Beth; he could see the woman was in pain, the kind of pain you felt when you had something to admit and couldn’t wait to get it off your chest. The kind of pain Mama had been in right after the murders. She had called the police and turned herself in. “Please don’t tell me.”

Beth looked crestfallen, and he felt bad. Beth was the reason he was here. She’d given him the great gift of this summer, with picnics and fireworks and everything.

“I wouldn’t be able to keep it from Winnie,” he explained.

Beth smiled. “You like Winnie.”

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah.”

“Just promise me that you’ll be there for her this summer when she needs you.”

“I’m here for her,” Marcus said.

“She’s so fragile, and your friendship is important to her.”

Marcus felt embarrassed and proud, and relieved, because it sounded like she was going to let him off the hook. He opened his eyes.

Beth lifted herself out of her chair and stood by him. She put her hand on his shoulder and left it there a second. Marcus’s throat ached. For the first time all summer, he missed his own mother, the way she used to be, when she put her hands on either side of his face if she couldn’t find the words to express herself.

Marcus heard a car pull into the driveway. Beth walked out into the hall.

“There they are,” she said. “Marcus, will you go up and wake Winnie? We have to get ready to leave.”

The screen door opened and Garrett walked in, followed by Piper, Peyton, and David. David was carrying a six-pack of Hei-neken.

“I hope someone made deviled eggs,” he said jovially.

As Marcus headed up the stairs he tried to imagine what the secret might be, and he figured it had to do with sex. An affair, maybe. Marcus was irritated; he could tell he’d be thinking about this all the time now, although he was interested to know that sex was plaguing people other than him. He knocked on Winnie’s door.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re going.”

Her hair was mussed and she was rubbing her eyes. “I’m grouchy,” she said.

Marcus felt a rush of emotion. She was so childlike, so funny and adorable that he flashed her his dimples. That worked. Her face brightened and she hugged him.

Walking down the cliff toward Jetties Beach, Beth noticed that Peyton was the only one without something to carry. In front, leading the way, were Garrett and Piper holding hands, each lugging a thermos in the other hand. Behind them were Winnie and Marcus holding either side of the big cooler. Beth had the picnic basket and two blankets and David was loaded down with folding chairs. Peyton slunk along at David’s side, empty-handed.