by Nancy Thayer
“You must have been madly in love,” Trevor said.
“I was, but not with Zack.” Sophie closed her eyes, remembering.
“That’s a cryptic statement if I ever heard one. Don’t leave me hanging,” Trevor said.
For the past ten days since they’d arrived at the guest cottage, the piano had been tugging at her. It was like a kind of hunger or thirst. Here on this island where she knew so few people, and those she knew would not judge her, she burned to touch the rose-white, petal-soft keys again.
She hadn’t been drinking and yet she felt inebriated, high, as she rose from her chair. “All right,” she said. “I’ll show you what I was in love with.”
Leaving Trevor on the patio, she walked into the house, through the living room to the music room. All the windows were open in the house. She sat on the stool. She placed her hands on the keys. She began to play a dreamy, soft Chopin étude. At first, she rushed, hit the wrong keys, could not get the rhythm right, but she continued, and as the music unwound like a silken rope from a magic skein, she entered that kingdom that art created, between reality and the possibility of other realities, between harsh life and shining beauty, between death and the possibility of eternity, that radiant realm that nourished her soul and made her understand why she lived.
When she finished, she bowed her head and simply breathed. It was there, it was all still there. This was a revelation. She was trembling.
“Mom, dude.” Jonah stood there with his iPod wires hanging around his neck and an expression of amazement on his face.
“Mommy, you did it again,” said Lacey with astonishment. “You never told me you could play the piano.”
“I haven’t played for a long time,” said Sophie. She stood up. “We don’t have a piano at home,” she reminded them.
“Well, that’s lame.” Jonah shook his head at her as if she were beyond comprehension.
Trevor was holding Leo in his arms. “I’m not quite sure I understand,” he said, referring back to their conversation. “But trust me, I want to.”
His eyes were warm and soft and full of admiration, and something even nicer Sophie could not name.
“Thank you,” Sophie said. “I’m glad you enjoyed hearing the music.” She ran her fingers over her forehead. “I’m sorry, you all, but that sort of tired me out. I think I’ll go on up to bed. See you in the morning.”
She’d done this before, left her children to get themselves to bed. They were on vacation now. She could allow herself this selfish period of time to think, to feel, to recover—to hope?
Upstairs, she ran a hot bath, filled it with bubbles, and sank into its comforting warmth. Her heart calmed. Her mind slowed. There was no need to rush. She leaned her head back against the warm porcelain, inhaled the fragrance of lavender, and let her mind drift.
The amazing thing was that she could play the piano with her children and Trevor listening to her. She could play the piano even though she hadn’t played for years, even though she knew she hit clunkers, forgot entire passages, and probably sounded like Liberace on sleeping pills.
They said that when one door closes in your life, another door opens. But what if the entire house comes down around you, exposing you to a universe of possibilities? How did you take the first step? How did you play that first note? Sophie smiled. Maybe she already had.
What was the deal with attractive women and their obsessions with art? Trevor punched his pillow hard. He really liked Sophie, and not just because she was easy on the eyes. She was smart and funny and good with her children, and she was flexible. She was capable. And she played the piano like a magician, sending cascades of music into the air, music he hadn’t heard before, complicated music that lifted him up and dashed him down and made him breathless as if he’d been running. When she played, she moved his soul. But that wasn’t why he had come to the island. That wasn’t anything he’d wanted. He had enough on his plate taking care of Leo and trying to help his son recover from Tallulah’s death. His poor soul had been moved enough!
But he wanted to go to bed with Sophie. He wanted to do a whole lot of things with Sophie. Yet she was still married, obviously confused, and there were children to consider.
“Grow up, Trevor,” he muttered into his pillow.
Two of his friends, Kyle and Anne Manchester, were coming down this weekend with their son Gabe, who was Leo’s favorite boy buddy. They would be great buffer people between him and the overintense Sophie. Maybe he and Kyle could slip into town, go to the Box, and he could find someone carefree and fun to date this summer.
—
The arrival of the Manchesters Thursday night was a gift to them all, Sophie thought. Anne was a yoga chick, mellow and generous-spirited, with great swaths of frizzy red hair and a slender body draped in batik. Kyle was quiet but friendly, and Leo lit up when he saw Gabe. The boys hurried to what had been called the Lego bedroom, where the Manchesters would sleep during their stay, and spent every free moment in construction.
Friday everyone went to the beach, although Sophie took her kids to Steps Beach on the other side of the island to give Trevor and his friends some breathing space. Jonah complained—Steps was “lame,” without the surf—but Lacey loved the gentle lapping water of Nantucket Sound, even though she missed seeing Desi. That night Sophie took her kids out to dinner and to a movie at the Dreamland—one of those “the world is coming to an end but Tom Cruise and the newest skinny starlet will save it” mega-action flicks.
Saturday was the beach in the morning. Trevor asked Sophie and her kids to join them, so they all went to Surfside, swimming and playing with a beach ball and falling around laughing in the surf. It was a good way to get to know each other. When they returned home for lunch, Sophie and Anne had bonded. Lacey was allowed to invite Desi to spend the night. Jonah had a sunburn and planned to lie low with his iPod. The men were eager to watch a Red Sox game and the little boys built Legos in the backyard.
Anne asked to check out the organic vegetable gardens in the area, so Sophie drove her around, and by dinner the two women were cooking together, drinking wine, and laughing. It was like old home week for Sophie, lots of kids of all ages bumbling around hungry, the men out on the patio grilling steaks, steam rising from huge pots for corn on the cob, Sophie making her special salad dressing.
After the kids were in bed, the men said they thought they’d try out one of the bars, if the women were okay with that. Sophie and Anne glanced at each other. The women were okay with that.
The night had grown moist with fog, so they opted for the living room, where they sat at either end of the sofa, their bare feet up on the cushions.
“So,” Anne said, “how lucky is Trevor to fall into an arrangement like this with you? You’re a great cook.”
“He buys all the groceries and cleans the kitchen,” Sophie said.
“I’m sure he does. He’s always been a good boy, our Trev. I’ll bet he tries extra hard since he’s got a crush on you.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“I’m serious.”
“A, I’m older than he is. B, his wife just died.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “Tallulah was all about her acting, which for her had the extracurricular appeal of screwing around and doing drugs. I’m sorry, don’t speak ill of the dead and so on, but Tallulah was trouble. Beautiful, but vapid. Incredibly narcissistic, totally centered on Tallulah. I tried to like her—I honestly did work at it. But there just wasn’t much there to like. She was seldom around, and she’d been doing drugs for a while. I was anxious for Leo. I may sound harsh, but that sweet boy is better off without her. Trevor has always been the real parent.” Anne shifted to pull her knees to her chest. “Anyway, tell me more about you.”
Sophie tilted her head, staring into her wineglass. “As I said in the car today, my husband, Zack, is in love with a younger woman. He’s not sure what he wants to do and as each day goes by and he doesn’t phone his children, I’m becoming more
and more sure that a divorce is in our future.”
“You don’t seem messed up and heartbroken about it,” observed Anne.
“I guess I hide it well,” Sophie said with a smile. “No, that’s not quite right. I was messed up and heartbroken and I still am for the children—they don’t deserve a shattered family. But this summer on Nantucket has made me think that possibly what I’ve thought was a charming, cozy, well-furnished home is in fact a kind of cage.” She shook her head impatiently. “That sounds too dramatic and is not quite what I mean. I’m just seeing things differently here, realizing I have options in life.”
“You certainly do. This is your time to play around a bit, girl, while you’re still young.”
“Play around? Do you mean sleep around? I don’t know if I could. I’ve never been with any man except Zack.” She paused, then added, “And it’s been a long time since I’ve gone to bed with him.”
“Well, that’s just sad. Sex is one of man’s greatest pleasures in life and you shouldn’t miss out. Why not have some fun with Trevor? He’s adorable, and he blushes when he looks at you.”
“I think you have a crush on Trevor,” said Sophie, trying to turn the conversation away from herself.
“Of course I have a crush on Trevor! I also have a crush on Johnny Depp and Ryan Gosling and the UPS man, but I’m not going to do anything about it. I intend to be faithful to Kyle for the rest of my life, but I can do that because I had a lot of fun before I met him. So did he. But as they say, I’m married, not dead. I like to look, and I like to feel. When Kyle and I watch the Red Sox games, I talk to my girlfriend on the phone about which new player is the cutest. We have a saying: PILF, Player I’d Like to—and Kyle sits right there ignoring me. He talks to the television. ‘That was a strike, you dumb-ass umpire!’ And I’m saying to my friend, ‘That new Holt boy has one fine ass!’ ”
Sophie laughed. “I feel like a Puritan, listening to you.”
“You can always change. I’m not saying go to a bar and pick up any guy. But Trevor is a good man. He’s devoted to his son, he’s a great friend, and he deserves happiness in his life.”
“You think if I go to bed with him that will bring him some happiness?” Sophie asked skeptically.
“I think it will bring you both some pleasure, and probably happiness, as well.”
Sophie reached to the coffee table, picked up the bottle of wine, and poured them each another glass. “Tell me how you got so wise.”
For the rest of the evening, Anne talked about her difficult childhood and young adulthood, finding yoga, committing herself to the yoga life, studying at Kripalu, becoming a certified yoga instructor. Sophie listened carefully. The Manchesters were a happy family and she wanted to learn how they managed that.
—
Monday morning, the Manchesters left. Trevor and Leo went into town grocery shopping. Sophie surrendered to Jonah’s insistent pleas, and she took him and Lacey to Young’s Bicycle Shop to buy Jonah a bike. It was a relatively inexpensive used ten-speed, not cool, but in good working condition. They drove back to the house with the bike loaded into the back of the minivan. The day was turning out hot and muggy, and Sophie and her family weren’t in the mood to go to the beach again.
High-pitched screams assailed them the moment they stepped out of the car. Jonah and Lacey turned to their mother, dismayed and confused.
“Perhaps Leo has an ear infection,” Sophie said, rushing to the house.
Inside, they found chaos. Cushions had been pulled from the sofa and chairs and rugs were flipped upside down. Sophie and her children hurried upstairs, toward the noise.
Trevor was with Leo in the child’s bedroom. The mattress had been half dragged to the floor, which was littered with clothing and toys. In the middle of it all, Leo lay in the throes of a full-force tantrum. His small face was swollen and red. His father knelt next to him, helplessly repeating his name.
Trevor looked up at Sophie. “Tubee’s missing. We’ve looked everywhere. I don’t suppose you know where he is?”
“I saw him yesterday,” offered Lacey, trying her best to be helpful.
“Sorry, man,” said Jonah. “Did you look outside?”
“We looked everywhere.” Trevor’s T-shirt and hair were damp with sweat. He was on the verge of tears himself.
Sophie closed her eyes and envisioned the way the house had looked last evening. “Could the Manchesters have accidentally packed him?”
“Sophie, you’re a genius! Did you hear that, Leo? Maybe he’s with the Manchesters!”
“No! No! Want Tubee now!” The child lay on the floor roaring, hitting the floor with his fists, kicking it in a furious rhythm.
Trevor jumped up, dug his cell phone out of his pocket, and walked into the hallway where he could hear himself speak. He punched in a number. A moment later, he said, “Anne, is there any chance Tubee is with you? We can’t find him anywhere here.” After waiting a moment, he said, “That would be amazing, and I’d be so grateful.” Returning to his son’s bedroom, he knelt next to Leo. “Hey, guy, the Manchesters are almost home. The moment they get in the house, they’re going through all their luggage to see if Tubee’s there.”
It was as if Leo hadn’t heard. He continued to howl like a maddened beast. Next to Sophie, Lacey began to cry quietly, tears sliding down her cheeks. Jonah slunk off to his bedroom and quietly shut the door. Trevor attempted to gather his furious son into his arms, but Leo fought him off, hitting his father’s chest and arms, shouting, “No! Want Tubee!”
Sophie felt like a voyeur at a terrible catastrophe. Wrapping her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, she guided Lacey downstairs and into the family room. “It’s going to be okay, I don’t want you to worry. Leo is having a tantrum. All kids have tantrums when they’re young. It’s not nice to see but it’s not dangerous. If we could do anything, we would. But right now Trevor is the only one who can help Leo.”
“It’s so scary, Mommy,” Lacey whispered. “His face is so red.”
“I know, honey, I know. Many children have a special toy or blanket that gives them security. You had your pink blankie when you were a toddler, remember? You carried it around until you were three years old and it was almost transparent from so many washings. You had tantrums like Leo’s if you misplaced it. One day when you were three, you left it in your bedroom and never needed it again. But Leo has…lost his mommy. We have to remember that. Sadness comes out in different ways. I think Leo is crying for his mommy as much as for Tubee.”
Lacey’s tears intensified. “That hurts my heart.”
Sophie cuddled her daughter next to her on the sofa. “It hurts my heart, too, sweetie, but you know what? Sometimes crying is a kind of cure. Sometimes that’s what the body and the heart need to do. It’s hard to watch, but it’s not always a bad thing.”
“Can’t we do anything to help Leo?”
“I’m afraid not, although I might go upstairs with a glass of ice water for both Leo and Trevor to drink. For us, I think it’s time we watched some television, something really stupid.” Reaching for the remote, Sophie clicked until she found the cartoon channel. “I’ll be right back.”
As she headed up the stairs with the ice water, she heard Trevor in the hallway talking on the phone. She saw him go into Leo’s bedroom.
Trevor knelt on the floor next to his wailing son. “Anne found Tubee, Leo. He was in the pillowcase with their laundry. He was tucked away in a nice, soft place. Anne is going to package him up and mail him back overnight express mail. He will be here tomorrow. For sure.”
At these words, Leo’s rage gradually subsided. His sobs diminished to whimpers. Trevor gathered his son in his arms and sat on the floor, hugging the boy against him, rocking him.
“Want Tubee.” Leo cried, his bony body shuddering with exhaustion.
“Tubee went on a quick trip with our friends. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
Sophie tiptoed into the room, set the two glasses of ice water on t
he floor within reach of Trevor’s hand, and quietly left.
Trevor took a sip of the cold water and was surprised at how it revived him—he could almost feel the clear energy spread through his system, calming him. Holding Leo’s glass, he coaxed his son to take a sip, and then another. The hot flush of Leo’s skin slowly faded. The boy’s breathing slowed. He relaxed against Trevor.
Trevor rocked Leo in his arms, humming softly until the child’s trembling eased and his eyes closed. He laid Leo in his bed. He removed his son’s sandals and smoothed his hair, pulled a sheet over him, then simply stood watching for a while. Leo folded into a fetal position and sank into a deep sleep.
Downstairs, Lacey was in the family room watching television. Sophie was sitting on the back patio with a book in her lap, her head resting against the pillow of the lounge chair.
Trevor went outside to sit on the chair next to her. “Well, that was awful.”
“I’ve seen worse when a child didn’t get the candy he wanted in a grocery store,” said Sophie comfortingly. “But, yes, it was awful, for you and for Leo. And yet, possibly not the worst thing that could happen. I was telling Lacey how sometimes it helps to have a good tantrum. Often the immediate problem isn’t the real cause.”
“Catharsis. Yeah, I know.” Trevor stretched out on his lounge chair and closed his eyes. “I feel like my heart has been squeezed so hard it’s as limp as a rag.”
“Kids will do that to you,” Sophie said. “I don’t want to interfere, Trevor, but you have talked with Leo about death and about losing people, right?”
“Of course I have. And I talk to Leo about his mother every day. You’ve heard me.” Trevor rubbed his forehead, remembering the advice of other parents and the therapists he had visited. “I really don’t want to put Leo on medication.”
“I think you’re right. Although, there have been times in my life when I’ve wished I could share a nice slug of vodka with my kids to ease their pain over a crisis like Leo’s. I’d never do it, of course. I suppose growing up is partly about learning how to handle loss.”
