of Henry’s condition, she explained, but the uncertainty of
everything, the way her whole life, every decision she made,
forced an internal battle between possibility and dread, until the only choice seemed not to make a choice at all.
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“You were alone that night,” Dr. Maloney told her. “Just
like in your childhood. You had no idea if anyone was com-
ing. And yet you knew if no one came, you’d die. That gets
wired into the brain. So now every time you’re confronted
with a stress situation, like a void of information or an un-
determined outcome, your brain reacts as if it’s life or death.
You are launched back into that unbearable state, caught be-
tween the possibility of rescue and the threat of annihilation.”
As he spoke, Hannah imagined herself as an abandoned
baby bird, small and featherless, mouth open in a hungry wail.
Waiting for rescue, waiting to be fed. She had actually thrown her head back and let out a little bird chirp right there in his office, trying to be funny, but he’d only stared at her gravely, then jotted a note in his notepad.
“But how do I fix that?” she’d asked.
She tried to remember what his answer had been. Some-
thing about rewiring. So much rewiring. Endless rewiring. At
the end of the session, he’d written her a prescription for the Xanax that she now carried everywhere, and in high-stress
situations—like, for instance, living—she put the small peach pill under her tongue and waited for that heavy calm to cover her like a weighted blanket.
The phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts.
“Is this Hannah Barnett?” A nasal voice said.
Hannah hesitated. “Yes.”
“I’m happy to inform you, Miss Barnett, that you have just
won a grand-prize trip to—”
“Hi, Maya,” Hannah said dryly.
“—Montauk, New York! Please come downstairs to collect
your prize. Bring a chainsaw. Ask no questions.”
Hannah was struck with a sense of relief, then dread.
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KERRY KLETTER
It’s only three days, she reminded herself. I can do three days.
She grabbed the handle of her suitcase, paused by her favor-
ite photograph, one she’d taken on the beach in Montauk after they’d watched the sun’s slow-motion dive into the ocean. It
was a picture of Blue, Renee and Maya leaping off the life-
guard stand, their bodies in silhouette against the blue night, captured in tucked flight like some sort of ecstatic birth from the sky. For a moment she could almost grab that pure, perfect bliss she felt at that time in her life. She reached out and touched Renee’s face, wondered where she was, hoped she
was doing okay.
At the door now, she forced a smile. This is going to be so fun! she told herself. This was what Maya would do. This was what Maya would feel.
The girls were waiting on the sidewalk. She paused, startled
by how different they looked, how much the same. Blue in
her tailored clothes, her hair cut just below her chin, suddenly morphed in Hannah’s mind into the eighteen-year-old she’d
once been, oversize tie-dyed T-shirt (her Deadhead phase—
short-lived, thank God), bangs always in her eyes, that twin-
kle in her eye and machine-gun laugh whenever she leaned
in and whispered some dry, hilarious observation in Han-
nah’s ear. It still surprised her to see how successful Blue had become, especially considering how unambitious she’d once
been about anything but partying. She turned to Maya, in-
stantly pictured her in her high ponytail and jangly bracelets, that unaffected sway when she walked, like she was slowing
down time with her hips.
An entire childhood rushed to the forefront of Hannah’s
memory: sleepovers and late-night phone calls, a single shared school locker that spilled books and paper whenever it was
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opened, ski trips and summer nights and he’s the one who’s missing out pep talks and so much time, my God, so much free time just to be together.
Now Maya and Blue rushed her, arms open wide. Don’t
mention that they’re late, she told herself.
Don’t mention it don’t mention it don’t mention it.
“Hi!” they both said at once, pulling her into a hug. Their
bodies, older now and almost a year unseen, were still such
a comfort.
“You guys were supposed to be here an hour ago,” Hannah
blurted. She could feel them both stiffen, or maybe it was she who stiffened, bracing for them to be annoyed. Immediately
she was angry at herself, fearing the withdrawal of the hugs, realizing she hadn’t taken them in long enough and what a loss that was, to be separated from the heartbeat of them.
“It’s Maya’s fault,” Blue said.
Maya shot Blue a look. “That wasn’t what we agreed to say.”
“I didn’t agree to say anything. That happened in your
head.” Blue turned to Hannah. “You didn’t think we’d just
left without you, did you?”
“What? No! Are you kidding?” Hannah said a little too
enthusiastically.
Blue and Maya exchanged a look.
“We should have called. We meant to call and got dis-
tracted,” Blue said. “We suck.”
“Well… Blue sucks,” Maya said. “I was just late.”
Hannah laughed, and Maya hugged her once again.
They climbed into the car, exchanging excited smiles. A
calm came over Hannah, a settling weight in her lap like a
warm kitten. How had she gone so many years without being
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KERRY KLETTER
near the very people who mattered most? A flaw in human
adaptation, we get accustomed to things too easily.
Around her the world was in motion, a parade of headlights
and people strolling by, the waft of perfume and emissions on the breeze, all that life she usually watched from the safe distance of her window. She was in it now, in it again, and she
imagined someone watching her from above, filled with that same wistful longing to be one of the moving pieces. In that
moment all the dread and worry receded, and she thought that
maybe this trip would be exactly what she needed: a yellow
brick road where she would find her courage again.
“Beach house, here we come!” Maya said.
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MAYA
“Isn’t this fantastic?” Maya said. “God, we should have done
this years ago!”
Her heart was so warm being back with her people. They
were about to have a fabulous time, sunbathing at Ditch Plains Beach, drinking margaritas at sunset, playing beer pong on
the back patio. They would do one another’s hair and it would all go to waste in an hour anyway because of the humidity,
and they’d hit the bars and meet hot surfers and, who knows,
maybe she’d even bring one home. A rich one! It could hap-
pen. Throw a rock out there and you’ll hit a millionaire
…
wouldn’t that be something if she brought back a million-
aire like most people brought back T-shirts. All her problems solved. Of course, she’d have to actually like him. And she always went for the broke guys. But who knows? Who knows?
Man, she really needed this. What a brilliant idea she’d had.
She glanced in the rearview, caught Hannah looking back,
stricken. “What?”
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KERRY KLETTER
“Your driving,” Hannah said, clutching the shoulders of
the two front seats in a death grip.
“I assume you brought your Xanax?”
Hannah nodded.
“Might as well pop a few. We have a lot of time to make
up.”
Blue laughed, turned to Hannah. “Why are we friends
with her again?”
“I ask myself that often,” Hannah said.
“Let’s face it,” Maya said, “it’s not like you guys had a lot of people clamoring for the job.”
“Fair point,” Blue said.
Maya made a sharp turn, a little too sharp, and watched
Hannah shrink back into her seat, her shoulders pressed in as if she were being squeezed by an invisible crowd. A memory
came to her of all of them at eighteen, driving home after
their high school graduation ceremony, Hannah unbuckling
her seat belt and standing up in the back of Maya’s open Jeep, her white dress billowing, her red curls flying as she turned to watch the high school, their childhood, ebb into the distance. It was just before sunset and the clouds had flared bal-lerina pink, and Hannah threw her arms wide as if trying to
catch that beauty and hold it, shouting “We’re free!” into the wind, as if their innocence was a chain rather than a safety
harness. Maya hit the gas and Blue and Renee cheered and
Hannah yelled for her to go even faster until Henry yanked
her down into his lap, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.
Lovely youth. She could almost reach back and grab that
feeling—the way they were trying to touch something then,
not sky, exactly, but vastness. Like if they just went fast enough, they could grab it and hold on to it, be as big as it, and oh, East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 64
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65
even then she knew they were being reckless, driving too fast, but how could anyone fear death when they felt this alive?
“So,” Blue said, turning around in her seat to face Han-
nah. “You excited?”
“I think so,” Hannah said, smiling meekly.
“She is very excited,” Maya said. “She just doesn’t know it.”
“I haven’t been to the house in so long,” Blue said. “First
Nana got too old for the drive…and then work has been in-
sane…but man, I miss it. My mouth’s already watering for
the lobster roll at Lunch. This really may be Maya’s first good idea yet.”
“Hey! I’ve had others.”
“Name one.”
Maya thought about it, came up blank. “You know I’m not
good at pop quizzes.”
Hannah leaned forward. “Hey, Maya, how’s the new job?”
“Awesome,” Maya said. She noticed Blue eyeing her skep-
tically, realized she might have oversold it.
“Please don’t tell me you got fired already,” Blue said. “It’s been three months.”
“I did not get fired already and I resent the implication.”
“Good,” Blue said. “Because I’m out of job contacts in
Jersey.”
“That’s fine,” Maya said. “I don’t need your help again,
thank you very much.”
“And the house?” Hannah said. “Did you keep the purple
front door?”
“House is great and the door is still purple!” Maya said with cheer. Granted, it probably had a foreclosure notice taped to it, but they didn’t need to know that. It would all be fixed
soon enough.
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KERRY KLETTER
“So anyway…” she said, tapping her hands on the wheel.
She wanted to change the subject, and besides, she had some-
thing important to tell them. All the way to Hannah’s she’d
tried to determine the best way to approach it. Perhaps if she made it seem like nothing, she could slip it by Blue without
much fanfare. She certainly seemed to be in a good mood at
the moment, so now might be the time. “Guess who I talked
to?”
Blue’s phone buzzed, cutting Maya off just as she’d care-
fully set the bait.
“I’m going to throw that damn thing out the window,”
Maya said.
“Sorry,” Blue said. “Work stuff.”
“It’s nine o’clock.”
Blue tapped at her phone and the message whooshed into
the ether. “Okay, who did you talk to?”
Maya glanced at her. A mistake! She had telegraphed ner-
vousness. “Renee!” she said brightly, as if there were glitter on the word.
A crash of silence inside the car. Tires humming beneath
them. Maya bit her lip, considered her next move. She needed
to sell this. Her toughest challenge yet. She looked back at
Hannah for support.
“Wow,” Hannah said finally, softly. It was quiet again be-
fore she dared to ask, “How is she?”
“It was a quick call,” Maya said. “It’s not a big deal. She’s fine.”
“Who called who?” Blue asked.
“I called her.”
“Why?” Blue fired back.
“Because she’s my friend? And I miss her?”
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Blue stared at her. Maya returned her gaze, defiant.
“Watch the road!” Hannah pleaded.
“Anyway,” Maya said cheerfully. “She says she’s doing great.
Engaged to some amazing guy. Living in Connecticut.” She
paused, looked at Blue’s face. Made a judgment call. “Well,
that’s it. Just wanted to tell you! Moving on…”
“Good plan,” Blue said and looked out the window.
Maya caught Hannah’s eyes in the mirror. They looked
like hers felt—sad.
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BLUE
Blue couldn’t believe Maya had called Renee. She lit an emer-
gency cigarette, took a hard inhale as if applying pressure on a wound. She opened the window, turned to make sure Hannah wasn’t getting blasted with fumes.
“You shouldn’t smoke,” Hannah said.
“I don’t,” Blue said, exhaling into the rolling night. Her
hand shook as she took another drag. Her Rolex—a tacky gift
from her company, but whatever, it told the time—glinted in
the shine of passing headlights. She watched the smoke run
out the window, wanted to follow it.
It wasn’t even just the casual delivery. It was the utter dis-loyalty of the call in the first place. Yes, they were all adults and could do what they wanted, but still, the fact that Maya had talked to Renee felt a betrayal of some unspoken rule.
The rule that Maya and Hannah had no right to a relation-
ship with Renee if Blue didn’t have one.
After all, it ha
d been Blue and Renee who’d been best
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friends first. They were the two who’d known each other
since practically the day they were born, had been referred
to as “the twins,” though they looked nothing alike. Renee
was sleek haired and thin as an hour with a perpetual sense
of hurry in her eyes, while Blue was broad-faced and sturdy,
moved through the world with lazy muscle, like a piece of
construction equipment. But she’d always felt that being with Renee was like being with herself, as if underneath they had
the same sized hearts, beating at the same speed, creating a
synchronicity of spirit, the way she imagined twins must feel, soothed by each other’s rhythms in the womb.
Their parents had been best friends, too, at least until Re-
nee’s dad packed up his bags and walked out, fell in love with the secretary just like the cliché. Blue had actually been at Renee’s house the night he left. Her mother was with Renee’s
mom, Sue, in the kitchen, the sounds of tinkling wine glasses and murmuring voices leaching through the screen door. Blue
and Renee sat on the front steps, both ten at the time, preparing to toss Mentos into a bottle of Pepsi as precocious Renee explained the science behind the anticipated explosion. Even
then Blue recognized the importance of friendship, of having
a passenger along on your life, the way just sitting shoulder to shoulder felt like a buffering against things she could not name.
She wanted to say something to Renee about it, but the night
lowered in a hush, and Sue’s voice from the kitchen turned
into a loud, boozy smear. “I never should’ve had a kid,” Sue
said. “We were fine before that.”
An awful silence followed, a period at the end of the cru-
elest sentence.
Renee chucked a Mentos candy into the soda bottle, and
they watched silently and joylessly as it foamed and sprayed.
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KERRY KLETTER
Blue couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear to see the hurt in her eyes.
“They’re so loud in there,” Blue said finally.
Renee was staring off toward the street. “Did you know
that when hippos are upset, their sweat turns red?” She usu-
ally took great joy in reciting strange facts, but now there was a remoteness in her eyes, as if she’d traveled somewhere Blue couldn’t reach.
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