Elin Hilderbrand - Summer People

“You didn’t do me a favor by leaving,” David said. He lay across the chair like he’d been shot. His neck was exposed, and his Adam’s apple; she could see his pulse. Beth imagined her young self climbing onto the back of his dirt bike, and holding on to him for dear life. Kicking up dust into the sunset. That was how this all started, and this was how it was going to end, here on the deck of a complete stranger’s house.

“I am sorry, David.”

“So am I.”

They remained silent until the first raindrops fell, and then Beth announced that she should let him get back to work.

“I’ll see you out,” he said.

They walked down the hall, past the rooms with their heavy smells of paint and blaring music and the teenage boys who would ask one another on their lunch break if Beth was David’s estranged wife. A few of the kids would say yes, a few would say no, and nobody, Beth realized, would be completely wrong.

G arrett’s days with Piper were dwindling. The Newtons were scheduled to leave the day after Labor Day, and when Garrett checked the calendar, he found himself staring at the fourteenth of August. They had less than three weeks left.

That night, Garrett and Piper went to the Gaslight Theater to see a heist movie. Piper knew a guy who worked there and so they were able to buy beers at the bar and take the beers into the theater with them. Piper took one sip of her beer and excused herself for the bathroom. She was gone a long time-she missed all of the trailers. When she returned, she took Garrett’s hand and squeezed it so hard that Garrett winced and looked over, even though as a rule, he disliked it when people talked in movies.

“I threw up,” she whispered.

Garrett moved his arm around her shoulders. “Do you want me to take you home?” he asked.

She shook her head and slumped in her seat toward him. Garrett hoped she wasn’t getting sick; the thought of even a day without Piper disheartened him. He drank his beer and the rest of Piper’s as well.

After the movie, Garrett drove to the beach. No matter what they did at night, they always parked at the beach on the way home. But when Garrett pulled up to the water, shut off the engine and made a move to kiss Piper, she raised her hands to shield her face.

“Hey,” Garrett said. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel well,” Piper said.

“Still?”

“Still.”

Garrett rested his hands on the steering wheel and looked helplessly out the window. Even though they had more than two weeks left, everything had started to take on a sheen of nostalgia. The ocean at night, for example. Garrett soaked in the sight so that when he went back to New York he might remember what it was like-the waves, the reflection of the moon on the water, the way it felt to have Piper next to him.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked.

Piper didn’t respond. A few seconds later when Garrett looked at her, he saw she was crying again. Piper had cried three nights in the past week because she was so upset about his leaving. That was probably why she threw up earlier. Garrett knew from his experiences with Winnie that girls threw up when they got upset. He didn’t like the fact that he was causing Piper to cry and vomit, although he was glad she was going to miss him.

“It’s only a year,” Garrett said. “Not even a year. Nine months-September to June.”

“That’s not it,” Piper said.

“I’m not going to find another girlfriend,” Garrett reassured her. “I already told you, there isn’t a girl in New York City as pretty as you.”

“Garrett.”

“We’ll talk on Sundays when the rates are low, and we’ll e-mail every day. God,” he said. “I wonder what people did before they had e-mail?”

“I’m late for my period,” Piper said.

This took Garrett so by surprise that at first he couldn’t decipher what she meant. “What?”

“But I’m, like, super erratic. My cycle can be twenty-eight days for six months and then I’ll skip a cycle all together. It’s happened before. A bunch of times. At least twice.”

“Are you telling me you might be pregnant?” Garrett asked. He couldn’t believe this. They had used condoms every single time they had sex. He’d made sure of that. He’d been so, so careful-well, except for the time his mother caught them, when he hurried, when he fumbled while disengaging. But that was so long ago, the Fourth of July. He leaned his head back. Oh, please, God, no.

“Might,” Piper said.

“How late are you?”

“Pretty late.” She burst into a fresh round of tears.

“Okay, okay,” Garrett said. He had to keep her from getting hysterical. What was it his father had always said? It’s fruitless to speculate. There was no need to jump ahead and consider how neither of them was prepared to become a parent at seventeen. Not with a year of high school and four of college and three of law school for Garrett. No need to jump ahead to where Piper might get an abortion-it certainly couldn’t be done on Nantucket-or how to pay for it or what their parents would say.

“You need to take a test,” he said.

“Where am I going to get a test?”

Garrett wrinkled his brow. “At the store? I don’t know. The pharmacy?”

“I live here, Garrett,” Piper said. “I know at least three people who work at the Stop & Shop and my father is friends with the couple who own the pharmacy. He paints it every year. I can’t go buy a pregnancy test. Everyone knows me.”

Garrett felt like Piper had thrown a huge blanket over his head and he was having a hard time shaking it off. “So what are you going to do?” he asked.

“Me?” she said. “It’s not my problem, Garrett. It’s our problem. If I am pregnant, it’s half your fault.”

“I know,” Garrett said defensively.

“ You should buy the pregnancy test,” Piper said. “Nobody knows you.”

She had a point; he knew practically no one on the island other than his family. Still, the idea of buying a pregnancy test was humiliating. Buying a box of condoms had been bad enough. The condoms-Garrett couldn’t even think about the condoms without shrinking inside.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Piper seemed to relax a little at this promise. She fell across the front seat and lay her head in his lap. A few seconds later, she fiddled with the zipper of his jeans, but Garrett took her hand and held it tightly. His body was filled with nervous tension that would be impossible to battle. He held Piper close and after several minutes he felt her body melt into his. She was falling asleep.

“Piper,” he said. “I’m taking you home.”

When they pulled into the Ronans’ driveway, Piper roused herself enough to undo her seatbelt. “So you’ll get it?” she asked. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he said. He pulled Piper toward him and kissed her. “Do you think you are?”

Her eyes were only half open. She was, as Garrett’s mother would say, falling asleep in her soup.

“No,” she said dreamily. “Probably not.”

Garrett felt a rush of relief. It was, after all, her body.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Garrett.”

The next morning, Garrett rose early and drove to the Stop & Shop. He bought a pint of raspberries for his mother, who loved them, a bag of Doritos, a package of bacon, a jar of olives, a six-pack of root beer, and the pregnancy test. He dashed for the checkout line. The cashier, an older Jamaican woman, rang up the groceries without even glancing at him. Garrett paid with cash, refused his receipt, and hurried from the store.