“We were all just kids John. No one was sending sympathy cards.” She sips her coffee. “I didn’t go to Maine for the funeral.”
“You stayed here?” he asks.
“I was distraught. I couldn’t travel,” she says.
He nods wordlessly. He understands distraught.
She half smiles in his direction. “Unlike you—I think also distraught—all you could do was travel.”
She is making fun of him, so he laughs to let her know it is okay. He is enjoying this time with Lynn more than he expected to. Talking about real life feels good. “Travel is one word for it. It felt more like running.”
“You are back on U.S. soil John. You are getting closer to home.” She’s right, of course.
They finish their coffee and then walk from stone to stone. Lynn tells John about the Osprey Island residents, some old and some young who died within her memory. They died of old age, cancer, drowning, heart attack, liver disease, car accidents, and there was even a suicide. The causes are as varied as their names. Every stone rests above its own tragedy. Lynn adds flags to the handful of unmarried young men who died in Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan, buried next to their parents. They have no wives or children to care for them. Their youth is its own tragedy. He thinks Lynn has a lesson here for him. He listens carefully so it won’t be lost.
“Thank you for coming John. I am sure they would have enjoyed a new visitor. I’ll go on to visit my family now, alone.”
He is dismissed but not offended. “Thanks for sharing this with me Lynn.” He points to a storage shed nearby. “That shed looks like it needs a new roof.”
“I have been meaning to have that taken care of,” she says looking it over.
“I would be very happy to take care of that for you,” he offers.
She does not turn him down but shows him where to find tools and even some lumber in the shed. He agrees to return two Sundays later so as not to disturb families over the holiday weekend. She’ll bring him a black coffee.
She says her goodbye and walks to the western section of the site. In the distance, he can see a stone marked Gerry Leyden, lined with flowers and a bench. He isn’t buried here though. John imagines Lynn created a way to sit with him where she can.
A few days before June ends, Anna halts their morning run abruptly, slow to find her words. "An old friend is visiting this weekend, for the 4th, a woman. We used to work together.”
"Oh. That's great. I'll make myself scarce." He can go on a deep sea fishing trip to fill the void. He has gotten used to spending their days together.
"I wish you wouldn't," she says without thinking.
"Hmm. I'm not sure what to do with that? I might be tough to explain."
"You’re kind of my boyfriend," she states definitively.
"Yeah?" he asks, not sure. It sounds nice, but the 'kind of' is important to the phraseology.
"Do you want to be my kind of boyfriend?" she asks.
"Kind of yes, I'll be your kind of boyfriend," he laughs at it, but this is new territory. In the beginning, the curiosity of their situation weighed on him more, but as time passes he just enjoys his time with her. It has been a very good month.
"I don't want to get in the way of girl time though," he says.
"How about we see you on the beach? If I don't let Pemberley see you on the beach," she gestures an open palm to his chest and abs, "I'm a dead woman. And we have dinner together?"
"I'd better go lift. I seem to be getting a little soft around the middle since you hit your stride in the kitchen."
"Liar," she says. "Pemberley cooks by the way."
“Pemberley is her name?” he asks.
“It is. Her mum was a Jane Austen fanatic.”
“Wasn’t Pemberley Mr. Darcy’s home? That is brilliant,” he laughs.
“John, are you telling me you are a reader of Jane Austen novels?”
“My mom was serious about raising well rounded sons,” he shrugs. "Take Pemberley to lunch and show her the docks, play tour guide. I don't want your ‘kind of boyfriend’ to be boring for her."
After another few minutes running, Anna stops again, thinking and panting with her hands on her hips. She is up to four miles now and she feels good. She is getting stronger.
"Hmm," she says to herself.
"Second thoughts?" he asks. "No problem. There is this fishing boat I can do." She shouldn’t worry about leaving him on his own.
"No, not second thoughts. I just need to break our pact for a moment. Past tense dialog." She stalls.
"Go on," he says. This is a first.
"Pemberley and I worked together. She is a journalist, a great journalist. You have read her work in every full color, national publication on the market."
He waits silently.
“It will come up over the weekend though. I was a photographer, a freelance photo- journalist actually. We often travelled together. We made our way around the world together more than once," she pauses. “So I was a photographer," she finishes abruptly. "I guess that's it."
This is the most information she has shared all summer. "In Charleston, the photo in the market?" he asks.
"Mine."
“60 Minutes?”
She shrugs and runs off ahead, ending the conversation, leaving him standing in her dust.
Three
July
Pemberley Molina arrives two days later. She jumps from her car right into Anna's waiting arms and both women fall into a heap on the front lawn of 517, hugging and laughing. Pemberley is a head taller than Anna and swings long braided hair. Her mixed heritage shows on her attractive face. Light brown skin highlights bright green eyes. A strong nose and cheek bones give her the look of a model showing off jewelry in a magazine with thick pages. Her constant smile sets everyone around her at ease, at least until they figure out if they need to be afraid of her sharp tongue or not.
"Oh my god, I have missed you." Pemberley exclaims. Anna cries happy tears.
"You are so getting laid. Look at you!" Pemberley pulls away to get a better look at Anna. "You are all tanned and filling out. What is this? A muscle?" She asks squeezing Anna's arm, "You are positively glowing. Are you...”?
Anna cuts her off. "There he is." They spy on John coming in from a morning of surf fishing, putting away his tackle and rods.
"Oh my god!" Pemberley jumps up and goes right through the flowerbeds. Anna calls after her hopelessly.
"Well hello gorgeous," she says stepping onto his driveway.
"I might say the same," he says stepping into her open arms.
"Feel free."
He does. “I hope you don't mind fish. I caught a few and I think I stink."
"You stink like heaven," she laughs with a hand on his chest.
"Are you going to rape him right here in his drive?" Anna asks.
"No, he's all yours, but I like him. I got a nice feel of your chest, would you mind terribly if I put a hand on your..."
"Pem!" Anna shrieks in mock horror. John’s smile indicates he doesn’t mind a bit.
"Abs, I was going to say abs."
Pemberley insists they breakfast together. John cleans the fish, then lights the grill and burner, scrambling eggs with one hand and flipping fish with the other. Pemberley gestures a hand thumping over her heart behind his back. Anna can only laugh. Pemberley mouths, “hot” fanning her face with both hands.
“John, what do you do besides all this?” she asks gesturing to the grill.
Anna stiffens.
“Oh a little of this and a little of that,” he says plating breakfast. “I’m a Michelin rated chef,” he lies, joking.
“I can see why,” she bites into the fish, dressed with lemon, olive oil and fresh chopped parsley. Anna is relieved that Pemberley lets him off the hook. She usually doesn’t.
“So what do you all do around here for fun?” She leers at John.
“My god Pemberley, he isn’t a piece of meat,” Anna laughs.
“Okay,
besides that. What do you all really do around here for fun?”
Anna has missed these easy times with Pemberley. Since things got bad and Anna stopped working, they have not seen each other except for quick, teary visits. This lighthearted banter reminds Anna of happier times when her problems were simpler. Before the baby died and before Dylan died.
They spend the morning on the beach. Pemberley has the presence of a supermodel just sitting in a beach chair. She wears an animal printed bikini, showing off long, lean legs and a figure with curves. She catches the admiring eye of many beach walkers.
John encourages Anna and Pemberley to go into town for a late lunch on the docks together. "Go have drinks and I can play cabbie if you want." Pemberley makes a crack about playing cabbie with him and they decide to walk into town.
Anna and Pemberley choose a dockside restaurant.
"Apps, booze and dessert?" Anna asks.
"Just like the old days." Pemberley reminisces.
They order more than they need. “It warms my heart to see you eat." Pemberley says tossing long braids over her shoulder. "Are you pregnant?" She gestures to Anna's fruity, frothy alcohol laden drink.
"No of course not."
"Plans to?"
"Not right now, with John here the whole summer, I didn't want to miss an opportunity for a last fling."
"Why your last Anna?"
Anna doesn't answer. They are covering old ground.
"He seems a little sad. Unbelievably gorgeous, but a little sad."
"I know."
"Do you know why?"
"No. We decided not to do that."
"What? Talk? You only screw and watch him cook?"
"And swim and read and see movies and explore the island and visit the city..."
"Okay. I get it. But I don't get it."
"It's enough for me Pem. Enough for John too, I think. I don’t need more. I don’t want more."
“Anna you have to let it go. What happened with Dylan is the past. Let it lie. You can let yourself move forward.”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Anna asks a little indignantly. They eat and drink, calling John for a ride when an afternoon downpour chases them off the docks.
John drops Anna and Pemberley at 517 to nap off their afternoon buzz. His mobile buzzes yet again as he climbs the stairs to 516. John pulls it from his pocket and sees six missed calls from Stephanie. He listens to six voicemails ranging in emotion from patient to furious. He sent her a text, acknowledging her messages, hoping she will stop calling. Either way he knows she is coming. He looks outside, wishing he could go for a run. He isn’t a fan of running in the rain. He picks up his book and reads a few pages, trying to forget Stephanie and what is coming.
The knock on John’s glass door is a welcome interruption. He slides the door pulling Anna in, dripping from the rain. She doesn't say a word. Instead, she pushes him to the couch and climbs on top of him. She leaves her dress on, pulling off his shorts. He is amused by her lack of underwear this second time but doesn't say so. She came over for a quickie and he is more than happy to oblige. They get right to it and in the end she kisses his nose and runs out the door. Damn if she doesn't leave me a twenty-dollar bill on the nightstand, he thinks, feeling better and returning to his book.
Pemberley's visit is three days of reconnecting for Anna and flattery for John. "She needs to go or I'll not be able to get your big head through my front door." Anna jokes.
On July 4th, John rents a small boat and they watch the fireworks over the water. Anna packs a Mediterranean style picnic. She still isn't cooking, but she is assembling foods well. It is a memorable 4th. Fireworks light the sky and John likes watching Anna's happy face illuminated by the colors of the holiday.
John invites them over for another drink after returning the boat. "I want to try something with you both, if you’re game."
"Oh I’m game." Pemberley jokes.
"Almost and very tempting but something else," John smiles cryptically.
At John's house, he pours a round of bourbon stalling a little. "Do you like bourbon Pem?" She throws it back offering her glass for a refill instead of answering with words. "Good because we need to be lubricated."
This brings a spit of bourbon from Anna.
He opens a closet and pulls out a guitar, a child's drum set and a pair of maracas.
"This is interesting. Kind of Jimmy Fallon," Pemberley says taking the drums. Anna grabs for the maracas.
"Finally!" Anna shouts loudly, the bourbon doing its job.
"Did you know I was practicing?" John asks Anna.
"I've been hiding outside your door listening for weeks!"
His green eyes crease in laughter. "Aren't you the sneaky one? Well, I've got something in mind that needs some percussion and a whole room full of voices. Preferably moderately intoxicated voices."
He pulls the new karaoke machine out of the closet.
"Oh my god. You didn't!" Anna screams.
He is happy with her reaction. "I did. It's for you. But right now we only need it for the lyrics. We've got the music covered."
He gives them a quick lesson so they can learn their parts. They practice until they get the hang of it. And then he starts to play. Notes flows like starlight from his guitar. Anna and Pemberley are silenced, watching John’s skill with this complicated song.
"Okay, now you," he points to their instruments with his chin.
They join their sounds to his and the effect is magical. The sounds they pull from these old toys are extraordinary. It fills the room with an invisible light that they can all feel.
"Sing with me?" he asks.
Pem and Anna turn to the karaoke in unison. All together, they sing U2’s Where The Streets Have No Name.
Their voices are not polished and professional, but the bourbon gives them the courage they need to sing strong. When they finish, they sit silently for a few seconds, absorbing what they just shared.
"Oh my god that was absolutely brilliant!" Anna says in genuine shock.
"You are unfuckingbelievable." Pemberley tells John.
"Best beach band ever." John is happy. There is no feeling that can match making and sharing music.
More bourbon, more songs. They turn to the karaoke machine as back up for an inspired rendition of Smells Like Teen Spirit. Pemberley and Anna treat John to a song and dance Like a Prayer performance. July 4th is a late night. After Pemberley is tucked into bed, Anna texts John to meet her on the beach. He brings a blanket and they don’t come back for a long time.
On her last night, Pemberley does the cooking. She sings along to Coldplay’s entire collection. She likes her music loud when she cooks. After a weekend of grilled feasts, she decides they need some old school cooking, Jewish soul food. By late afternoon, the kitchen smells of chicken soup, matzo balls and braising brisket.
Pemberley thinks about the large white envelope, still unopened and undiscussed, in her suitcase. She stirs the soup and watches Anna’s relaxed face next to her, at the counter braiding a challah. Anna’s phone vibrates with a text.
“What time should I tell John to come?” she asks, smiling like a schoolgirl in love. In all of the years Pemberley has known Anna, she has never seen her so relaxed and happy.
“Six?”
Anna types, smiles at John’s response a moment later, and sets her phone on the counter before resuming her work with the dough. The envelope contains the answers to Anna’s whole life. Her adoption papers, emails from her birth mother in Atlanta are all in that damn envelope. But she can’t give Anna the envelope and all of the answers, without explain why she used every one of her contacts and bent the law to find Anna’s mother.
“You alright? You’ve been stirring for a long time?” Anna asks.
“Oh, yeah, my mind is just wandering. It’s good to be here with you.”
Anna wraps her arms around Pemberley, careful to keep her floury hands out of the hug. Pemberley holds her tight. When Pemberley gets back to
New York City, she is having a double mastectomy. Anna has no idea about the cancer because Pemberley couldn’t bring herself to tell her. Anna and John are on the brink of something. It is so delicate and Anna is so fiercely avoiding the connection. Pemberley thinks Anna is full of shit. She wants more from him than his sperm, but she isn’t there yet emotionally, and learning her best friend is heading down the same road that killed her mother and aunt, isn’t going to help that.
When Pemberley learned of her diagnosis, she knew she couldn’t leave Anna alone. Anna’s family situation always seemed a little off. Pemberley couldn’t imagine her parents sending their only child off to college and literally never seeing her again. All of the answers are in that damn envelope, but Pemberley can’t give Anna her birth mother without telling her about the cancer.
“I’m really happy you’ll be with me in New York after Labor Day.”
“Me too,” Anna brushes her hair from her face with the back of her hand. “I’ll pick up some things in Maryland after the house sells. The rest will go to auction. I don’t want much of anything, truly.”
“So when will you come to me? I want everything to be perfect for you.”
“My god you are a darling, Pem. Thank you for this by the way. Um, let’s see. I’ll give myself two weeks to tie everything up. How about September fifteenth or so?”
That gives her ten weeks before she’ll see Anna again. In ten weeks she’ll be mostly recovered from the surgery and treatment will be underway. It also gives Anna time to figure things out with John. The idea of leaving Anna with John fills Pemberley with hope.
“I like John a lot,” she says. Last night Pemberley ransacked John’s kitchen to find his last name. She Googled him and learned about his story. She likes him even better now that she understands him. He and Anna have no idea how much they have in common. Their grief, their anger, it is all so similar.
John arrives at six on the dot with two bundles of flowers and wine. They sit at the dining room table with cloth napkins and candlelight. The dinner feels more like a holiday than a beach meal.
“Pemberley, this is absolutely amazing,” John says. “What are your ethnic origins, if I may be so bold?”
Circling The Shadows Page 8
