“Butterfingers,” Tina joked.
Allie stared down at the bottle, stricken. Was it slippery, or had something inside of her begun to misfire?
“Allie?” Tina scooped up the bottle and handed it to her. “You okay?”
The bottle was slippery—a sheen of lotion, probably left over from Tina’s fingertips, clung to its surface.
Just concentrate on the now, Allie thought again. Those five words would be her mantra this week.
Allie took a slow, deep breath, focusing on it like she’d learned to do in a meditation class. “I’m great,” she said.
She linked arms with Tina, and they walked through the house to the pool. The guys were no longer there, and the dirty plates and glasses and damp towels had been cleared away and magically replaced with a table full of fruity rum drinks in hollowed-out pineapples.
“Don’t you feel as if we stepped into a fantasy?” Allie said, handing Tina a pineapple. “Or maybe a movie set.”
“All we need is Ryan Gosling to rise, dripping wet, out of the pool,” Tina said.
“Did someone say a naked Ryan Gosling?” a voice called. “I think Pauline can probably arrange that.”
They turned and saw Savannah. The warm late-afternoon light hit her as she crossed the patio toward them, illuminating the red and gold in her hair. She wore a white dress with navy blue trim that clung to her slim hips, and her lightly tanned skin was flawless. She has never looked more beautiful, Allie thought.
“Van! We didn’t say naked!” Allie protested, laughing.
“Ah, but you were thinking it. Don’t you love those flowers?” Savannah asked, pointing to a trellis covered in white-blue and purple blooms. “They’re passionflowers, the butler told me. Native to Jamaica.”
“Gorgeous,” Allie said.
Savannah picked up a pineapple drink. “Cheers, girlfriends. To passion.”
“I’m so glad we’re here together,” Allie said. “I’ve missed you, Van. I feel like we haven’t really talked in a while.”
Savannah nodded. “I know. Things have been . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she took another sip of her drink. “Look, I know you guys have been tiptoeing around the subject, so just let me say this fast, okay? Gary and I are splitting up.”
Savannah lifted her chin, and Allie could see a defiant gleam in her eyes. It didn’t fool Allie, not one bit.
“I’m so sorry,” Tina said.
Savannah nodded again.
“Whenever you want to talk, I’m here. We’re here,” Allie said.
“I know that. Just—not now, okay? I really want to have fun tonight.”
“Then we better go tell Pauline about our Ryan Gosling request,” Tina said. She squeezed Savannah’s arm. “Do you think we should order him lightly oiled?”
“Definitely,” Savannah said. She looked up again and took in a deep breath that made a shuddery sound at the end. “A light application of oil, a little bit of bronzing . . .”
“Are you girls talking about food again?”
Gio paused in the doorway, looking back and forth at them. “What’s so funny?”
Savannah picked up a pineapple and walked over to give it to him. “Yes, Gio, we’re talking about something we’re all absolutely ravenous for,” she said, prompting squeals of laughter from Tina and Allie.
“Whatever.” Gio rolled his eyes. “Van, what are you doing giving me a girlie drink? I’m sticking to beer.”
“Sorry, macho man,” Savannah said, nudging him in the shoulder. “Did you want to slaughter a woolly mammoth to go with your beer? Because we can find you a club.”
“Me like club,” Gio said. He wiggled his eyebrows. “Me use it on my wife, later, to bring her into cave.”
Poor Van, Allie thought, watching her joke around with Gio. How brave of her to come on this trip alone.
“So where is everyone else?” Allie asked.
“Ryan and I just finished a game of pinball,” Gio said. “I think he went to use the john.”
A thumping sound made them all glance up. Two silver helicopters were cutting through the sky, heading their way.
“Perfect timing,” Pauline said, walking up to the group with Dwight and Ryan a few steps behind her.
“Shall we head to the beach?” Pauline suggested. “That’s where they’ll touch down.”
“Let me just grab my camera,” Allie said, scooping her Nikon case up off a chair.
“Conga line!” Savannah shouted. “Everyone get behind me!”
Whooping and dancing, they made their way down the steps to the waiting helicopters.
* * *
Tina hadn’t planned to say it. But when everyone began to divide up to climb aboard the copters, in couples as usual, she suddenly shouted, “Let’s mix it up, people!”
“What do you mean?” Pauline asked, turning to look at her.
“Oh, I thought it would be fun if we went without spouses for this ride,” she said, realizing how strange she must sound. “Just, um, for a change of pace.” She caught Savannah’s gaze—was it obvious she was doing this for Savannah’s benefit?—and then Gio looked at her, too.
“Seriously?” he asked.
She remembered how she’d caught him off guard at dinner last night, when she hadn’t reacted to his teasing about not calling the kids, and she smiled in what she hoped was a mysterious way. Let Gio wonder a little bit; it would be good for him.
“Why not?” she said. “Maybe you’ll miss me.”
And so Pauline, Gio, and Ryan were aboard one helicopter that was already climbing into the air. And Allie, Savannah, Dwight, and Tina were about to take off in the other. It was interesting that the spontaneous division had caused the smaller, core group from college to split off from the others, Tina thought. She and Allie had been roommates freshman year at UVa, of course, and they’d met Savannah during orientation week. Savannah had been struggling to carry her belongings down the dorm’s hallway, dropping sweatshirts and Madonna CDs in her wake, and they’d jumped in to help her unload her blue Pinto. Tina had always thought it strange that Savannah had come to college alone, while Allie’s and Tina’s mothers had made their beds and lined their bureaus with flowered contact paper and, along with their fathers, had taken them out for a nice lunch. None of them had been able to hold back tears while saying good-bye.
There was something cool about driving yourself to college—not to mention having a car, even if it was a beat-up old Pinto—but Tina knew she wouldn’t have wanted that, even if Savannah didn’t seem to mind. If it hadn’t been for Allie, so close by that they could lie in their twin beds and stretch out their arms and touch each other’s fingertips, Tina probably would have cried herself to sleep the whole first week of school.
Tina knew Allie felt the same sympathy for their new dorm mate; they’d talked about it that very first night, then they’d walked down to Savannah’s room and knocked on the open door. Savannah had been lounging on her bed, flipping through a celebrity gossip magazine.
“We’re going to grab a piece of pizza. Want to come?” Allie had asked.
“Sure,” Savannah had said, sliding her feet into a pair of flip-flops by the door and slicking on red lip gloss. And just like that, their new friendship was born. Tina had never felt as close to Savannah as she did to Allie—it wasn’t just geography or the comparative longevity of the relationship; there was something about Savannah’s character that kept their friendship from deepening. Probably her blazing streak of selfishness: Savannah would leave you at a party without saying good-bye if she met a guy who interested her, and she’d borrow your favorite jeans, delay returning them for a week even if you asked, then drop them off unwashed. She was funny and vivacious and outrageous—and both aware of and unapologetic about her flaws—which took away some of their sting.
But Savannah also had a good heart, Tina reminded herself, and she’d stick up for you if you needed her. She didn’t gossip or backstab, either, which was another mixed blessing—she�
�d tell you exactly what she thought, to your face.
Tina also knew Savannah’s selfishness was a form of self-preservation, because no one else was looking out for her. Her parents had split up when she was five, and they’d both started new families. Once during junior year, just before UVa’s holiday break, Tina had noticed a Christmas card featuring a photo of a family—a man and wife in red shirts and two boys in matching green ones—on Savannah’s desk.
“My stepmonster and Dad and their kids,” Savannah had said when she’d seen Tina looking at the picture.
You’re not in the family photo? Tina had almost asked, but something in Savannah’s face had stopped her from releasing the question.
Savannah had also confided that her mother and stepfather both worked long hours and had twins, and Savannah was always expected to babysit when she stayed with them. It was, Savannah claimed, what had cured her of ever wanting children.
“I changed a green diaper once,” she’d said, shuddering. “Bright green! Isn’t that some sort of crime?”
“Against who?” Tina had asked.
“All of humanity?” Savannah had said.
But Savannah never seemed to pity herself. They’d had a lot of fun together in college during their first three years. Then Allie had won the private room on the quad and become friendly with Dwight, and Tina had moved into an apartment off campus with a group of girls from her sorority. And just before Thanksgiving break, she’d met Gio.
Tina had known who Gio was, of course. She’d lusted after him from across campus, and they’d crossed paths at parties dozens of times. He’d even handed her a drink once—although Tina couldn’t find anything remotely romantic about a gesture involving slightly flat Bud Light and a plastic cup, no matter how hard she tried. On that November night, though, when she left the library, she’d heard footsteps behind her. It was already dark out, but plenty of students were around. Still, Tina had quickened her step. Then the heavy footsteps had sped up, too. Instead of looking back, Tina had walked even faster.
“Tanya? Tori?” A voice had shouted behind her. “Umm . . . Terry?”
She’d smiled then, and stopped. She’d recognized the voice.
“I’m not going to turn around until you get my name right,” she’d said.
“Hang on, let me catch my breath. Were you power-walking or something?” he’d said. “Okay, okay, I know it starts with a T.”
“You can do better than that,” she’d said.
“Tiny?” he’d guessed, and she’d doubled over in laughter.
“Do you really think I’d go by the name Tiny?” she’d asked. “Do you think anyone would?”
“I think some old Hollywood star did,” he’d said. “A long time ago. Come on, tell me your name.”
She’d shaken her head, feeling her curls bounce against her cheeks, grateful she’d deep-conditioned them the night before.
“Then at least look at me,” he’d said, and she’d slowly turned around, knowing she’d remember this moment for the rest of her life and wanting to draw it out. And just as her eyes had met his, he’d smiled, his perfect teeth standing out against his five o’clock shadow. “Tina,” he’d said. “That’s your name.”
She’d nodded and he’d moved closer. “Did I scare you?” he’d asked. She could see the outlines of his muscular biceps and shoulders beneath his black T-shirt. All the other guys in college looked like boys, she’d thought, but Gio was a man already. “I just wondered . . . I was leaving the library and I saw you on the stairs ahead of me and I thought . . . well, do you want to go grab a beer?”
She’d nodded once more—at that point she wasn’t sure if she’d ever speak again—and he’d reached out to carry her books. They’d fought some during that year—broken up a few times, too—but Tina had known, deep in her bones, even before she finished drinking her first beer, that Gio was the guy for her.
Allie had become better friends with Dwight then, and probably with Savannah, too, Tina mused. Neither of them was dating anyone seriously at the time; Allie wouldn’t meet Ryan until a couple years after college, and the same for Savannah and Gary. By now Ryan was so woven into their group that they sometimes forgot he hadn’t gone to UVa, but Tina had never felt that way about Gary. He’d always been . . . aloof. That was the most polite word she could muster.
“YS Falls,” the pilot was shouting. “One of Jamaica’s national treasures.” Tina could barely make out the words over the air being whipped around them. She glanced down as the copter swooped lower, and an involuntary sigh escaped from her lips. The sun was just beginning to set, and the contrast of the rose- and orange-streaked sky, tumbling blue water, and surrounding flowers was one of the most beautiful sights she could imagine.
She leaned closer to the open window and drank in the view for a long moment, then turned to Savannah in the next seat over. Savannah was holding back her hair with one hand, and when Tina caught her eye, she grinned.
“Allie? Dwight? Can you guys believe this?” Tina twisted around to glance toward the second row of seats. Her eyes widened: Allie was bent over with her head between her knees, and Dwight was patting her back.
“She’s okay,” Dwight shouted. “Just feeling a little sick. Can you tell the pilot to head back right now?”
“Of course,” Tina said. “Allie? Honey?”
Dwight spoke again, and Tina was surprised at the authority in his voice. “Tina, I changed my mind. Tell the pilot to touch down as soon as he can find a spot.”
Tina leaned forward and spoke to the pilot, who nodded, then she turned back to Allie. Now Dwight was speaking in her ear and holding her hand. What was he saying?
Tina strained to hear: “Visualize a box. Now trace a vertical line of the box as you breathe in for two. Okay, good. Now trace a horizontal line and breathe out for two. Go to the next line and breathe in, nice and slow . . . one . . . two.”
Allie lifted her head. Her face was so pale! All of her freckles stood out as sharply as if they’d been freshly painted on a stark white canvas.
“What’s going on?” Savannah shouted.
“Allie’s airsick,” Tina shouted back. She felt the copter jerk and dip as they descended, and she hoped Allie wouldn’t vomit.
Minutes later, they were on a beach, and everyone moved aside quickly so Allie could climb off first.
“Are you okay?” Tina asked as she jumped down onto the sand. She moved closer and put her hand on her friend’s arm. Allie nodded and gulped air.
“Here,” Dwight said as he twisted the lid off a bottle of water and handed it to Allie. “Try to drink a little.”
“I don’t know . . . what happened,” Allie said. She took a small sip, and a little water dribbled down her chin, but she didn’t wipe it off; she didn’t even appear to notice. Her hands were shaking, Tina realized.
“You’re okay now,” Dwight said. “Listen, Tina and Van, you guys go on. The other helicopter is going to a beach a few miles ahead. Pauline arranged to have champagne there. I’m going to call a cab. Allie and I will meet you at the house.”
“No, no,” Tina said. “We’ll all take a cab back.”
“Absolutely not,” Allie said. “I’ll be really mad if you miss out on this because of me. Besides, I’m feeling better.”
A bit of color was coming back into Allie’s face, Tina noticed. But she was clutching that bottle of water so tightly it was crumpling like an accordion.
“I’m staying with her, Tina,” Dwight said. “I’ll take care of her.”
Tina looked at him; she’d never seen this take-charge side of Dwight before. His occasional stutter was gone, and his face was so intent. Was this what he was like at work? No wonder he was so successful.
“Are you sure?” Tina hesitated. “Because, Allie, I don’t mind at all . . .”
“I insist.” Allie smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. “Beat it, you two.”
“C’mon, Tina,” Savannah said. “She looks okay now.”
&
nbsp; “Okay.” Tina climbed into the helicopter and stared down as it lurched into the sky again, watching the figures of Allie and Dwight on the beach grow smaller as the colors of the sunset intensified around them.
* * *
“I don’t know what happened,” Allie said. “I’ve never . . . Nothing like that has ever . . .”
“Let’s sit down,” Dwight said. He took off his T-shirt and spread it on the sand. “Here.”
“Oh, Dwight,” Allie said. “Thank you.”
She was still holding the water bottle, her fingers compulsively pleating the plastic.
“I know you don’t feel like sitting down,” Dwight said, taking her hand and guiding her to a seat anyway. “You probably want to run screaming down the beach, don’t you?”
Allie turned to him. “How do you know?”
“I’m pretty sure you had a panic attack,” he said. “I figured it out when you told me you had to get off the helicopter, plus you were shaking. Which means adrenaline is coursing through your body like . . . like . . . wild horses. I’ve had them, too.”
“You have?” she said. She was still wrapping her mind around what had happened: She had been staring out the window, watching the ground drop away. Then her heart had sped up, and her hands had grown icy. It felt like her skin was shrinking. She’d thought she was just airsick, but suddenly her mind had seized in panic and her heart had tried to throw itself out of her chest.
“Maybe we should do the box again,” Dwight was saying.
“Dwight, what’s happening to me?” she whispered.
He put an arm around her. “It’s pretty common, believe it or not. I used to get them a lot.”
“I feel like I’m going crazy,” Allie said. She could feel tears running down her cheeks, and she leaned back against Dwight’s shoulder. His skin felt so warm.
“I know,” he said. “But you’re not.”
“Do you still get them?” Allie asked.
“Not often,” he said. “It’s been a year or two. And I can usually stop them when I feel them coming on now.”
“Can you teach me?” Allie asked. “Because I never want to go through that again.”
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