Somewhere Off the Coast of Maine

by Ann Hood

  “Nice,” she said.

  Elizabeth laughed. “It’s all right if you hate it.”

  “No,” she said. “I hate mine.”

  “So,” Elizabeth said, dipping the potato. “Are you taking Abel home for Christmas?”

  “Are you crazy? My parents would die.” She tried to picture Abel in her house, sitting by the stone fireplace, his army boots resting on one of her parents’ pale Oriental rugs. “No way,” she said.

  “My parents are going to freak out when they meet Howard. But I love him and if they make me choose—” She shrugged.

  Suzanne was fascinated by Elizabeth’s sureness about everything. It seemed as if she were so much older than Suzanne, her voice confident, her actions certain. How do you know that Howard’s the right one? she had asked her. I just know, Elizabeth told her.

  More than anyone she’d ever known, Suzanne liked to talk to Elizabeth. After the first night she’d spent with Abel, she had gone straight to Elizabeth’s room instead of to her own, still wearing one of his shirts, feeling bruised and sticky and dazed. She had told Elizabeth everything, the way his skin had felt, how she had moaned when his moustache brushed her thighs, what he had whispered to her. I have never felt so wonderful, Suzanne had said. Elizabeth had hugged her as if she were welcoming her to some private women’s club.

  “Where’s Claudia, anyway?” Elizabeth asked. She blew on the card to make the ink dry faster. “Skiing.”

  “She skis?”

  “She met some guy at the Rathskellar last night. She drags me to all these places and then deserts me. Every time. She showed up here at about five o’clock this morning and brings this guy right into our room. I almost died. Can you imagine waking up with some strange guy with a ponytail standing over you. ‘We’re going skiing,’ he said. ‘At Sugarloaf. Want to come?’

  “What did you say?”

  “No thank you. Their pupils were dilated like they’d taken God knows what.”

  Suzanne rolled out some wrapping paper with triangle-shaped gold trees. She measured the amount she needed carefully, cutting straight even lines. The first time Elizabeth had seen her, in the fall, carrying a yellow trunk up the stairs, she’d thought Suzanne looked like Sandra Dee. Sometimes she still thought so.

  “There,” Suzanne said, sticking a gold bow on top of the package.

  “What’s in there?”

  Suzanne laughed. “Chanel No. 5. I give it to my mother every year and she gives it to me.”

  “How are you going to get all that stuff home?”

  “Train.”

  “That’s ridiculous. We’ll drive you.”

  “Who?”

  “Howard and me.”

  Suzanne looked up. She could never have her parents see Elizabeth and Howard. She was already worried about what they’d say when they saw her, with her hair unstyled, hanging straight down past her shoulders and wearing the used pea coat Abel had given her. They were going to ask her all about her friends and her dates and she had no idea what she was going to say.

  “That’s all right,” she said. She pulled tightly on a ribbon wrapped around a long box with an umbrella for her father tucked inside. “I’m looking forward to the train ride. Really.” She pulled tighter. The ribbon snapped, tearing unevenly in her hands.

  “I won’t hear of it,” Elizabeth said. “Westchester’s just a minor detour.”

  “It’s way out of your way,” Suzanne said, trying to think clearly. “To get to New Jersey you’ll want to take the George Washington Bridge and—”

  “It’s no big deal,” Elizabeth said.

  The two women’s eyes met.

  “Great,” Suzanne said, trying to sound cheerful.

  “THIS IS IT.”

  Howard pulled into the driveway.

  “There’s no place like home,” Elizabeth said.

  Suzanne stared at the house. She felt like someone else lived there, someone she didn’t even know. There was the house number, written in script over the door, and the evenly pruned hedges. But they looked only vaguely familiar, as if she’d seen them in someone else’s photo album. She fingered the handle on one of her suitcases. Inside were all of her stuffed animals, a long-haired cat, a chubby bear, a droopy-eared lion. She felt an urge to hold them all on her lap.

  She could still feel Abel inside her from that morning. Don’t leave me, he’d whispered. Stay. We’ll have our own Christmas right here. She had held him tight until he’d grown soft and slipped out of her.

  “I feel so confused,” Suzanne said. “Like I don’t know who I am. I mean, I used to know.”

  “Do you want to drive around the block awhile?” Howard asked her.

  “I feel like such a baby,” Suzanne said.

  “Are you feeling a little guilty?” Elizabeth said. “Do you think your parents will take one look at you and just know about you and Abel?”

  “Sort of.” Suzanne remembered how she had studied her image in Abel’s mirror after they’d first made love to try to spot changes, signs that showed what she’d done. She thought of the things she’d whispered to him this morning in bed. I want you again. Again. Touch me here. She blushed thinking of this in the shadow of her parents’ house. Suzanne focused on an image of the heavy silver tea service that sat on a polished table in the formal room of the sorority house she had joined briefly. Sisters in white gloves had handed her a cup of tea in bone china with a rosebud pattern.

  “I’m all right,” she said, taking a deep breath. She fumbled with the door handle, locking it accidentally then unlocking it and locking it again, unable to get the order correct. She tried to force Elizabeth’s and Howard’s images to blur in the front seat of his old Peugeot. But they didn’t. Elizabeth’s glossy black hair remained just so, Howard’s patterned red kerchief seemed even more distinct. Finally, out of the car, in the fresh cold air, Suzanne stood with her bags and suitcases all around her. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make it take shape somehow.

  The car jerked into reverse loudly.

  “Wait,” Suzanne said, grabbing at the car but not able to reach it.

  Elizabeth opened the window.

  “Would you like to come in for some eggnog?” Suzanne said.

  Elizabeth smiled a gentle, knowing smile. Claudia had said she thought Elizabeth was a very old soul, you could see it in her eyes.

  “Thanks,” Elizabeth said. “But we should get going.”

  “Keep on trucking, huh?” Suzanne said, the words sounding artificial in the quiet suburban air.

  “Yes. Right.” Elizabeth smiled.

  “Thanks,” Suzanne said. “For the ride, I mean.”

  She turned and walked up the neatly shoveled drive. Her mother was in the doorway, with an apron over her frilly white blouse. The apron had silver bells embossed on the front, linked with holly. Suzanne walked, her thighs aching from clutching Abel to her, toward her house.

  Claudia and Elizabeth, 1967•

  “THEREFORE,” CLAUDIA SAID, “I’M a typical Gemini.”

  Elizabeth looked over at her.

  “I thought we were talking about astronomy. Like what’s up there.” She pointed to the sky.

  “You say astronomy. I say astrology. Let’s call the whole thing off.”

  Elizabeth kept her finger arched upward. The moon was a sliver in the inky blackness.

  “Venus,” she said. “Right there, under the moon. Mercury is to the right.”

  Claudia closed her eyes. She could smell rain in the air. She pulled at the grass beside the blanket they were laying on, dug her fingers into the earth. It felt cool and moist.

  “You’re going to fail that astronomy test,” Elizabeth said. She poured some wine into a paper cup.

  “I’m a history major. What do I need astronomy for anyway?”

  “I always wanted to go there,” Elizabeth said.

  Claudia opened her eyes. “Where?”

  “The stars, the moon, the planets, the galaxies. Anywhere up there
.”

  Claudia sat up and drank some wine right from the jug. It spilled down her chin and trickled onto her neck and blouse. She didn’t wipe it off.

  “Spring,” she said, “and a young girl’s thoughts turn away from science and toward love.”

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  “I met a new guy,” Claudia said. “He’s so sexy. Rough and ready.”

  Elizabeth had heard Claudia describe so many men that it was hard for her to get excited anymore. In a few weeks it would be someone else. Someone gentle. Or brainy. Or exotic.

  “He works on a farm outside of town,” Claudia said. “He’s not in school or anything. I dragged Suzanne down to hear banjo music last night and from the minute I laid eyes on him I had to meet him.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Claudia shivered, despite the warm spring air. She thought of the way he’d pushed into her last night, hard, the gravel in the parking lot digging into her knees, strains of the Cotton-eye Joe drifting from inside the bar, the zipper on his jacket hitting her as he moved from behind her.

  “Hello,” Elizabeth said.

  “What?”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “Let’s go get him,” Claudia said, jumping up. “Let’s go get him and go to the beach, swimming.”

  “What about astronomy?” Elizabeth said, but saying it, she was already gathering the blanket and books and charts, knowing that they would go.

  “It’s warm. It’s spring,” Claudia said. “That’s all that matters.”

  AT FIRST, WHEN HE opened the door, Elizabeth wasn’t sure he recognized Claudia at all. He just stood there, listening to her plan to go to the beach, then came outside and got into the car with them.

  “I’m Elizabeth,” Elizabeth said.

  “Peter,” he said. He was beautiful, his features chiseled, his mouth full. In one ear he wore a diamond stud. He didn’t talk the whole way there.

  “Tell him about Venus,” Claudia said. “The brightest planet. Tell him about Mercury.” Peter tipped the jug of wine back and swallowed. Elizabeth didn’t say anything else.

  As they walked down to the beach from the road, Claudia whispered to Elizabeth, “Real talkative, huh? The strong silent type.” Then she broke into a run, shedding her clothes along the way to the water. At its edge she twirled around, then dove into a wave. Elizabeth looked up. Mercury was hidden now, covered by clouds. She stripped to her panties and followed Claudia.

  “It’s freezing,” she said.

  “It feels great,” Claudia laughed. “Come on, Peter. It’s wonderful.”

  On the shore, Peter began to undress, slowly. Elizabeth tried to look away, but couldn’t. Under the water Claudia grabbed her hand. When he pulled his jeans off, he stood motionless for a moment and looked up toward the crescent moon. Elizabeth heard Claudia’s breath catch. “He’s like a god,” she whispered, her voice sounding distant against the crashing waves, and very small. Elizabeth nodded. Their hands floated away from each other and Claudia swam toward Peter, her strong strokes cutting into the water like axes, chopping.

  Elizabeth lay on her back, let the movement of the waves buoy her, keep her adrift. Through half-open eyes she saw her nipples, hard against the cold air, the foamy ocean water swirling around her stomach. She felt goose-bumps on her arms. She heard Claudia laugh, water splash. Above her, Venus was a dim light behind the rolling clouds. It began to rain, so lightly at first that she wasn’t sure if it was rain or spray.

  In the distance, Claudia wrapped her legs around Peter. His mouth was cold and salty on hers. He supported her in his strong arms as the waves pushed against them. She could feel the current tugging her. When he entered her, she threw her head back, opened her mouth, and drank the rain.

  Suzanne, Claudia, and Elizabeth, 1967•

  “I SAW THE GRADUATE thirteen times,” Claudia said. “I mean, I saw it at least twice a week, every week, for almost two months. And you know, it was hardly filmed in Berkeley at all. Just a few scenes were. Like when Benjamin’s in that boardinghouse.”

  “What about those scenes on campus? When he’s waiting for Elaine?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No. That’s actually Santa Cruz or someplace like that. God, I love that movie.”

  “Do you know what movie I love?” Suzanne said. “Doctor Zhivago.”

  “I hated that movie,” Claudia said. “All that snow. Trudge, trudge. Lara. Where are you, Lara? Trudge, trudge.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I like the movie but not that stupid song.”

  “I love that song,” Suzanne said. “My music box plays that song.”

  She hummed the song, stood, and waltzed with an invisible partner, her peach-colored bathrobe opening slightly.

  Elizabeth and Claudia applauded, poured more wine. They were in Suzanne and Claudia’s room. It was May. The summer stretched before the three of them. They would all stay in Maine, even Suzanne, who’d had to be convinced. Only after she’d gotten a job at a bank in town could she justify staying.

  She was going to live with Abel, in a little house by the beach. Just that afternoon Suzanne had shown it to them. It was white, with weather-beaten shingles and baby blue trim. They helped her make up a story for her parents. She would tell them she was living with Claudia still and use that phone number. Claudia would cover for her, get messages to her if they called. “It’s so dishonest,” Suzanne had said. “Look,” Claudia had told her, “it will work out fine. What are friends for?”

  “What a summer this will be,” Suzanne said. She sat on the floor.

  “You sexpot,” Claudia laughed. “We’ve created a monster, Elizabeth.”

  “To summer,” Elizabeth toasted.

  “To us,” Suzanne added.

  “To us,” Claudia said.

  They drank their wine and poured more.

  “How much of this stuff do we drink?” Elizabeth said, holding up the empty wine bottle.

  “Not nearly enough,” Suzanne said. “There’s so much Chianti to drink, so little time.”

  “So much love to make, so little time, huh?” Claudia laughed.

  “You’ve always been a sex-crazed woman, Claudia,” Suzanne said. “I’m new at this. Do you want to know something? God. Too much wine to drink. Why did I ever start this?”

  “What is this,” Claudia said, “some deep dark secret?”

  “No. I just mean you can’t tell anyone.”

  “Who would we tell except each other?” Elizabeth laughed.

  “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “What is it?” Claudia said.

  “It’s nothing really. It’s just, sometimes when Abel and I, you know, do it, he stays inside me and—” She laughed, covering her face with her hands. “He recites me poetry. His poetry. I mean, it sounds so corny, but it is really so beautiful. He’d die if he ever knew I told you.”

  “I have a real secret,” Claudia said. This is it, she thought. Saying it will make it truly real.

  “A night for secrets,” Elizabeth said.

  “You guys are not going to believe mine,” Claudia said. She swallowed hard. “I’m pregnant.”

  Suzanne’s eyes opened wide.

  “Oh, no,” Elizabeth said. Her mind raced. “I know a doctor. In Boston.”

  Claudia shook her head. “I’m going to have it.”

  Suzanne’s eyes widened more. “I’m sorry to ask this, Claudia. I mean, I have no right, but do you know who the father is?” Her voice was uneven.

  “It’s Peter. Peter from the farm.”

  “This doctor in Boston—”

  “It was almost like I knew from the very moment it was conceived. I know that sounds crazy.” For a moment, Claudia could smell the farm around her, hear the cows mooing softly, feel Peter’s strong, sure movements. “It’s an incredible thing. It feels wonderful and I just want to have it.”

  “What about school?” Suzanne asked her.

  “I’m going to finish. I haven’t thought everything out exactly,
but I’ve always been pretty unconventional. Right? I mean, suppose he wants to get married or something. I don’t know what I’ll do about that. But I’ll finish school. What’s three more years?”

  “He doesn’t know yet?” Elizabeth said.

  Claudia shook her head. She wanted to say that Peter seemed almost like a secondary part of all this, but she didn’t.

  “If you change your mind after you talk to him—” Elizabeth began.

  “Thanks. You’re both great for not telling me what to do and for not trying to talk me out of it.”

  “To tell you the truth,” Suzanne said, “I want to talk you out of it. You’re going to need money and a place to live. You don’t just go and have a baby.”

  “Why not? Women do it all over the world. All the time.”

  “I know what you’re like when you get an idea in your head,” Suzanne said. “There’s no talking you out of it.”

  There was a silence for a time, a comfortable silence. The women, without realizing it, moved closer together.

  “Howard told me that if he ever had to go to Vietnam, he would run away to Canada,” Elizabeth said suddenly.

  “Wouldn’t you want him to do that?” Claudia said.

  “This is a secret. I mean, it’s not the type of thing people talk about. It would have to be done so quietly.”

  “It isn’t your secret. It’s Howard’s secret,” Claudia said.

  “No, it’s mine. If he went to Canada, I don’t know if I could go with him. It’s running away.”

  “But he’s in school. He’s got a deferment,” Suzanne said.

  “He’s starting that Ph.D. in New York this fall, but he’s already anticipating that he may not stick with it. It’s a real conservative department. But, the thing is, if he quits, he’ll be eligible to go in the army.”

  “You would never leave Howard,” Suzanne said. “You would have to go with him.”