Elin Hilderbrand - The Island

The kids. Tate’s heart felt like it was being pulverized in the boat’s motor as Barrett started it up, swung the boat around like a cowboy, and sped away. Boyfriend leaving in Girlfriend, Tate thought. Then she thought: The kids. Barrett.

Barrett!

She wanted to cry out, but it was too late. She considered swimming-Nantucket was only half a mile away-but she was too weak.

She sat on the brand-new pressure-treated stairs made from sweet-smelling yellow lumber and cried.

She had been there ten or fifteen minutes when Chess came down.

“What happened?” she said.

“What happened? ” Tate said. “What happened? You happened, that’s what happened.”

Chess said, “I don’t get it.”

“He has feelings for you,” Tate said. “He always has.”

Chess laughed once, sharply. “Jesus, Tate, look at me! He took me to the hospital, and then the pharmacy. ”

“He took you to lunch,” Tate said.

“He didn’t take me to lunch,” Chess said. “We got sandwiches and went to the beach. We talked for a while and then I fell asleep, which was a result of the shot. When I woke up, we went to the grocery store for Bird, and then we came back.”

“What did you talk about?” Tate said. “Tell me exactly. What did you talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Chess said. “Things.” She started scratching her throat; it was raw, red, and bumpy. Just looking at it made Tate’s own throat itch. “I meant to tell you this before, the night of your first date with Barrett.”

“Tell me what?”

“About how, back a million years ago, Barrett showed up at Colchester. To see me. And I was nasty. I basically kicked him out of town. And I always felt bad about it. So today was good. Today gave me a chance to apologize.”

“What are you talking about?” Tate said.

“Barrett came to Colchester my sophomore year,” Chess said. “He drove up from Hyannis.” She then regaled Tate with the details: How she’d been working at the brat stand, how she ran with the cash box back to the sorority house, how Carla Bye was in the sitting room chatting with Barrett. How Barrett had driven six hours in the blue Jeep to see her. How she had turned him away.

The story left Tate breathless with shame for her sister; Chess was a snob, she was mean and stinky, treating Barrett that way. The story also made her jealous-no, it confirmed her jealousy. She had a reason to be jealous: Barrett had loved Chess enough to track her down at Colchester. It made Tate livid: Why had Chess not told her this story before? And why had Barrett never told her?

“I tried to tell you the night you first went out with him,” Chess said. “But you didn’t want to hear it. And I’m sure Barrett didn’t tell you because he’d forgotten all about it. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Tate said. “Except you felt the need to apologize to him today when you two were alone together. You ate lunch with my boyfriend. You took a nap with my boyfriend.”

“Don’t blow things out of proportion, Tate,” Chess said. She was using her older sister voice now, her fucking food editor voice. “I took a nap in an upright beach chair while Barrett sat on the bumper of his truck and talked to Anita Fullin on the phone.”

“So you know about Anita Fullin?” Tate said. “You know about the job offer?”

Chess didn’t answer. She didn’t have to answer. Of course she knew about the job offer; Barrett had confided in her. This morning, when Tate woke up, her biggest problem had been Anita Fullin. Now, her biggest problem was her sister.

“He had to tell me about the job,” Chess said. “His phone kept ringing.”

“I hate you,” Tate said. She stood up on the stairs so that she towered over her sister. “I absolutely hate you! You ruin everything, you steal everything. You have been ruining my life since I was born. You have been taking everything good for yourself and leaving me with scraps.”

“Tate-”

“Don’t talk to me!” Tate was screaming now. “I hate you! I’ve loved Barrett since I was seventeen years old, but he’s always wanted you. You are the prettier sister, I guess, the cooler sister, the superior sister. You get everything you want, you always have, and I’m sure you always will-”

“Tate, you know that’s not true-”

“It is true!” Tate was hysterical; she could hardly catch her breath. She gazed out at Nantucket in the distance. She might never see Barrett again. She had stupidly, idiotically sent him away. “I can’t breathe when you’re around! You suck up all the oxygen. You are so self-centered, so self- absorbed- ”

“Tate-” Chess said.

“You stole my boyfriend,” Tate said. “You spent the day with him! You ate lunch with him, you took a nap with him, you ran errands together, he confided in you-”

“Yes,” Chess said. “Yes, yes, yes. He confided in me. He told me he’s in love with you.”

Tate grabbed her sister’s wrist. It was rough and lumpy with poison ivy. Tate wanted to wrench Chess’s arm right off her body. “He told you that? He told you that? But he’s never told me that. Do you see? Do you see how you’re interfering and ruining everything?” She threw Chess’s wrist back at her, and Chess took a stutter step backward and fell off the steps into the sand. Rather than apologize, Tate rushed her sister. She pushed both her hands into Chess and knocked her down.

“Tate!” Chess screamed. “Leave me alone!”

“You leave me alone!” Tate said. “You make me wish I had never been born!”

“I’m sorry!” Chess said. She was crying. “I’m sorry I got poison ivy, I’m sorry I had to go to the hospital. I’m sorry your boyfriend was the only one who could take me. I’m sorry that you feel I’ve ruined your life. I’m sorry you think my life is so perfect. I assure you, my life is not perfect. I assure you, I have not gotten everything I wanted. Not by a long shot.”

Tate said, “Well, if there is something wrong with your life, why don’t you tell me what it is? Tell me what happened with Michael! Tell me your horrible secret!”

“I can’t!” Chess said. “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone!”

“Did you tell Barrett?” Tate asked. “Did you tell him today?”

Chess pressed her fingers against her red and swollen eyes. Her face was a blotchy mess; the patches of poison ivy seemed to be growing redder and angrier. “You are so immature,” Chess said. “You should listen to yourself. You sound like you’re twelve years old.”

“Shut up!” Tate screamed.

“You shut up!” Chess said. “And leave me alone!”

“I hate you!” Tate said. “I’m glad you’re miserable!”

India was in her bedroom when the screaming started. She could tell it was coming from the beach, but it took her another second to realize it was Chess and Tate. India sat on her bed and closed her eyes. God, the pain of having a sister, another girl, another woman, not you, but nearly you. A friend, a confidante, a rival, an enemy. She remembered the summer that… Billy was three, Teddy was fourteen months old, and India was pregnant with Ethan. They were here on Tuckernuck, down on the beach; India was in a low-slung beach chair with Teddy in her lap, and Billy was at the water’s edge. India had been so tired, first trimester tired, she couldn’t keep her eyes open, and then the next thing she knew, her eyes were open and she was watching Billy go under, whoosh, like he was being sucked into a vacuum. India tried to cry out- Help! Billy! -she tried to jump out of her chair, but Teddy was asleep and as heavy as lead in her arms. India’s lethargic body was betraying her. She couldn’t make herself move fast enough.