No one felt like a big lunch—they’d been gorging themselves for the past two days—so they’d requested sandwiches from the new chef who’d arrived that morning. He was just as talented as the old chef, as evidenced by the spread he’d laid out: turkey, avocado, and bacon; grilled eggplant and roasted red peppers with baked goat cheese; and melted cheddar and tomato on thickly sliced bread. Served alongside the sandwiches were strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries mixed together and spiked with mint, and golden homemade potato chips. Everyone had eaten on the beach, still in bathing suits.
“Might as well get in our time in the sun while we can,” Allie had said as she refilled her glass of iced tea. “The rain’s going to come soon.”
“Don’t be a pessimist, Al,” Savannah had said. She’d almost reached for another of the addictive chips but stopped herself; she’d probably gained a pound already on the trip. “It’s not going to rain, is it, Tina?”
Tina had just shrugged. Savannah hadn’t been able to see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but Tina wasn’t smiling. That had settled it: Tina was mad. Savannah’s question had been a kind of test. Tina had seemed to be avoiding her this morning; she’d stretched out her towel far away from Savannah’s, and when Savannah had wandered over to ask if Tina had the People magazine, Tina had handed it to her without a word.
Why didn’t people just tell you when they were angry, rather than sulking? Savannah wondered. It was as obvious as if Tina had grabbed a stick and dug giant words into the sand. And judging by how Gio was acting today—he’d been avoiding Savannah, too—he’d been chastised by his wife and was falling in line. That was surprising; Savannah would have thought Gio was the kind of guy who’d stand up for himself. But Tina clearly called the shots when it came to big things in their relationship.
Savannah was a little hungover, so she’d napped on the dock for an hour, dangling her fingertips in the salty water while the late-afternoon sun painted freckles on her shoulders. The gentle tapping of raindrops had woken her, and she’d realized everyone else had gone inside. She’d sat up and wrapped her towel around her shoulders, suddenly cold, looking around the deserted beach.
She’d gone to her room to take a long, warm shower, then she’d slipped into cutoff jean shorts and a gauzy white shirt.
Now she wandered into the living room, thinking the others might be gathered for cocktails. But the room was empty. She checked the game room, but no one was there, either. Maybe the other couples were having sex, she thought. She’d noticed Tina and Gio’s bedroom door was closed as she passed by. And Dwight was probably checking in with his wife.
Savannah wondered if Pauline was planning to come back that night. Her neighbor had broken a hip the previous year, tripping off a curb in front of her own house, and had spent less than twenty-four hours in the hospital. Surely Pauline wouldn’t miss the rest of the trip to care for her mother.
Savannah didn’t know what else to do, so she went back into her room. She’d already applied a coat of mascara and dotted her lips with a shade of gloss called Sangria, but now she reached for her bronzer, adding to the glow the sun had given her face. She looked in the full-length mirror, twisting from side to side, and frowned. Was that cellulite on her upper thighs, or a trick of the light?
A trick of the light. It had to be. She’d been working out so hard!
She flopped down on the bed and clicked through the television channels, but there wasn’t anything on she wanted to see. She checked the urge to glance down at her thighs to see how they looked from this angle. Her legs were perfect; she had another five years before she needed to start worrying about sagging skin or cellulite. Ten, if she severely limited carbs.
She opened the book on her nightstand, but she didn’t want to read. She only knew she didn’t want to be alone. She’d never been any good at that; in college, she’d always left the door to her room open, so anyone passing by could call out a hello, or pop in to visit.
Savannah finally went into the kitchen, where the new chef, Patrick, was gathering plates and napkins and putting them in a wicker basket in preparation for the clambake on the beach.
“Mind if I open a bottle of wine?” she asked.
“Allow me,” he said, uncorking a Riesling and pouring her a generous serving.
“Perfect,” she said. “If the others are looking for me, I’m going to head down now.”
“I’ll let them know,” he said. “I’ll bring down the food as soon as everyone’s ready.”
She walked down the steps to the beach, feeling unsettled and restless. Had she overdone it with Gio the night before? Maybe Allie was angry with her, too; Allie had been on the quiet side today as well. Savannah cast back in her memory for details of the night: She remembered making margaritas, and splashing Gio in the water . . . They’d talked for a while, too, in the living room, before they passed out. But Ryan had been there most of the time. At least, she thought he had . . . She descended the final steps and conceded the fact that her memory of the previous night contained holes. It wasn’t the first time it had happened to her—lately there had been a few mornings when she’d woken up on the couch, fully dressed, with an empty wine bottle on the table and the television blaring. And once she’d met a friend for martinis and had no recollection of driving home, even though her car was parked in the driveway.
Nothing had happened with Gio, though, she thought as she lay down in a hammock and pushed off against the sand with her toes to set it swinging. She’d remember it if they’d kissed. Surely she would have stopped it! No, they’d talked, then passed out, and Savannah had found herself on the couch around five a.m., freezing cold and alone, just like when she’d woken up on the beach after her afternoon nap. She’d stumbled to her bedroom, putting on sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt and crawling under the covers. It had taken her a long time to fall back asleep.
Savannah glanced up at the sound of voices; everyone was coming down the stairs, carrying blankets and coolers and the picnic basket. The chef brought up the rear, carrying an enormous silver pot that must weigh a ton, judging by the strained look on his face.
“Hey, Van,” Ryan said, shaking out a blue blanket on the sand.
“Hi,” she said. She swung her legs over the side of the hammock and stood up. “I like your dress, Tina.”
“Thanks,” Tina said in a clipped voice.
Oh, for God’s sakes, were they still in high school? Savannah wondered. This was getting ridiculous.
Patrick finished setting out plates and began to ladle food onto a giant serving platter—bright red lobsters, cherrystone clams, mussels, steaming corn on the cob, tender new potatoes . . .
“Ooh, let me get a picture of this,” Allie said, snapping away with her camera. “I want to remember this feast.”
Savannah adored cherrystone clams, and she hadn’t had one in forever. She reached over and snagged one, then slid the meat and juice into her mouth. “Sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t wait.”
“Help yourself,” Tina said, under her breath but loud enough for Savannah to hear. “You always take whatever you want anyway.”
Allie cleared her throat. “Tina, would you help me get some more drinks?” she said. “I think I forgot to bring down the rest of the wine.”
Savannah’s eyes tracked the two women as they left. Suddenly, she hurried over to the stairs to follow them. Tina and Allie had already entered the kitchen by the time Savannah walked into the house, but she could clearly hear their conversation as she approached the swinging door.
“I know her life is falling apart, but that doesn’t mean she gets to hit on my husband.”
“I don’t think she was hitting on him. I mean, you’re right, she was a little over the top, but she was just flirting. You saw how she was dancing with Dwight the other night, too.” That would be Allie, trying to smooth things over, Savannah thought. Why bother? Why not just have it out and be done with it?
Savannah swung open the door and popped in h
er head. “Talking about me, girls?” She smiled brightly.
“Oh!” Allie looked so flustered it was almost comical. “We were just—”
Savannah entered the room and met Tina’s eyes. “Look, you’re pissed at me. That’s obvious.”
“You’re right,” Tina said. She lifted her chin. “I am.”
“I can’t believe you accused me of hitting on Gio,” Savannah said.
“What the hell do you think you were doing, taking off your dress and showing your pole dancing moves?” Tina asked.
“Come on, Tina,” Savannah said. “I’ve known him forever. He’s practically my brother.”
“He’s not your brother!” Tina said. “He’s my husband.”
“You were pole dancing, too!” Savannah said.
“Not the way you were,” Tina said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you were wrapped around Dwight the other night when you were pretending to teach him how to salsa.”
“So now I’m trying to steal your husband and Dwight?” Savannah said. “My bed isn’t that big. You’re being stupid.”
“Why don’t you just apologize? You can never admit it when you’re wrong!” Tina cried. “That’s always bugged me about you.”
“Because I’m not wrong,” Savannah said. “We were having a good time. Which is something you used to know how to do.”
“Look, I really think we should—” Allie began.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Tina narrowed her eyes.
“It means you need to lighten up,” Savannah said.
“Fuck you,” Tina said.
“Oh, no,” Allie said. “Let’s all take a deep breath and—”
“Lighten up? You have no idea what my life is like, because you’re so selfish you never think about anyone except yourself!” Tina shouted.
“Don’t hold back, Tina,” Savannah said. She tried to smirk, but her lips wouldn’t obey. “Say what you really think.”
“Okay, I will,” Tina said. “There’s a code among girlfriends. We don’t hit on each other’s husbands. Do you even care, or are you that desperate for attention?”
“Desperate?” Savannah rolled her eyes, even as she felt the truth of the words stab into her. “I get plenty of attention, Tina. Maybe if you got out a little more you’d get some attention, too, and you wouldn’t be so anal about me joking around with Gio. What’s wrong with you? You’re acting like a prissy old lady. You used to be fun.”
Tina’s voice was so flat it took a moment for her words to sink in. “Is that why Gary left? Because you’re so fun?”
Silence filled the room, then Tina clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Van. You know I didn’t mean it. It’s just . . .” She shook her head and looked down. “Everything you said is true. I know I should get out more! Don’t you think I want to?” Her lower lip began to tremble. “I want to be more fun! I want to go to restaurants, and flirt a little, and laugh . . . But I can’t!” Her shoulders began to shake, and she dropped her face into her hands.
Savannah walked over and flung her arms around Tina. Her own throat felt tight, too, as if Tina’s tears were contagious. “Look, you’re right. I was flirting with Gio because my husband left me for a nurse who’s practically in high school. I’m a bitch.”
“It’s not that,” Tina said. She lifted her head and sniffed. “Yeah, I mean, you are a bitch. But so am I.”
“I’m a selfish bitch, though, so I’m worse,” Savannah said. This time her smile was genuine. She let go of Tina and handed her the glass of Riesling.
“A nurse?” Tina asked. “I’m really sorry, Van. On behalf of my profession.”
Savannah shrugged. “Yeah” was all she said. Her throat still felt strange, but her eyes were dry.
Allie looked back and forth, as if she was a medic staring at two injured people, unsure of who to treat first. “Are you okay, Tina?” she finally asked.
Tina nodded and took another sip of wine, then handed it back to Savannah. “You need this as much as I do,” she said. “I don’t know, it’s just being here, getting to sleep late and relax and eat good food . . . the contrast with my normal life is so extreme. You guys, it hit me this morning: I’m scared to go back home.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think I want to go back. I mean, I will, of course, but I’m dreading it. What kind of mother am I, that I don’t want to see my own kids?”
“The best mother I know,” Allie said firmly, but the words didn’t seem to register.
“You know why I was so mean to you, Savannah?” Tina said. The words began tumbling out of her, and her voice grew uneven again. “Because you’re sexy and gorgeous and sometimes I wish I could be you. Or just look like you for a day. I’ve gained weight and my clothes are awful and if I manage to shower in the morning it’s a banner day. All I do is clean and nag and drive and cook and break up fights and . . . and . . . I don’t know how to change things! Gio works late and on weekends he’s so tired. I can’t just leave him with four kids . . .”
“Why not?” Savannah asked. “I mean, not for the whole weekend, but why not for a few hours so you can go grab a glass of wine and a nice meal? Maybe even spend the night in a hotel by yourself?”
“Do you have any idea of how tired I am by seven p.m.?” Tina asked. “I’m in my pajamas by then. I’d never have the energy to go out. Not counting this trip, I’ve only slept through the night a few times in the past six years.”
“Seriously?” Savannah said.
“Want to know the first thought that pops into my mind almost every morning after opening my eyes? I start anticipating being able to go to bed at night. I’m just so tired all the time.”
Savannah hid a shudder. She couldn’t imagine living like that. The thought of it made her literally itchy.
“Wow,” Savannah said. She scraped her nails down her left arm. Was she being attacked by a bug? There was a raised blotch on the inside of her elbow. “That kind of . . . sucks.”
“Yeah,” Tina said. She took another sip of wine. Her face was still red, but her voice had evened out. “I love my kids more than anything in the world. And I wish they came with a Pause button, so I could get caught up and relax, and then go back to them sometime in the future. Like in a year or two.”
“I think every mother in the world feels that way,” Allie said.
“You never did,” Tina said.
“Are you kidding me? Of course I did,” Allie said. “Why does everyone think my life is so perfect? Because it isn’t, Tina. No one’s is.”
“Amen to that, girlfriend,” Savannah said.
Tina nodded. “Okay,” she finally said. She looked at Savannah, and her face softened. “I’m really sorry about . . . Well, Gary’s an asshole.”
“Is there anything we can do, Van?” Allie asked.
Savannah shrugged again. “Nah. I’ve got a good lawyer. And I’m going after Gary for every cent I can get.”
“Will you stay in the house?” Tina asked.
“Probably, for a while,” Savannah said. “I’ve kind of put decision making on hold for now, but—”
“Is your arm okay?” Tina interrupted, moving closer to look at it.
“Bug bite,” Savannah said, pulling her sleeve back down to cover it. “Hey, maybe the three of us should hang out alone tonight. We’ll let the boys do boy things after dinner.”
“Look, you don’t have to avoid Gio,” Tina said. “Just keep your clothes on, okay?”
“Who?” Savannah asked, scrunching up her nose. “Is he the short, hairy one? He’s not even my type.”
Tina stared at her a moment, then burst into laughter. Savannah laughed, too, and then Allie joined in, throwing her arms around both of them.
“You thought you were going to have to jump in between us and break up a fight, didn’t you?” Tina asked Allie.
“Kind of,” Allie admitted. “I think this kitchen has a hex on it. We always see
m to be fighting in here.”
“There’s a moral to that,” Savannah said. “Women should stay out of”—she coughed—“the kitchen.” She put a hand against her chest, hurried over to the sink, and filled a glass with water.
“Are you really okay?” Allie said. “I know it must be hard. You and Gary were together for so many years . . .”
Savannah shook her head. Her eyes were huge.
She hadn’t experienced the sensation in years, but now she recognized it. Her heart was pounding and it was difficult to breathe. And she itched everywhere—even the soles of her feet.
“Shrimp,” she gasped. “Allergic.”
Allie froze. But Tina, the former nurse, sprang into action.
“Find some Benadryl or Claritin!” she shouted at Allie. “Search all the medicine cabinets. Savannah, do you have an EpiPen?”
Savannah nodded as Allie hurried off.
“Where?” Tina asked.
“My room . . . I don’t know exactly . . .”
“Can you walk?” Tina asked. “Come with me. I can’t let you out of my sight.”
Breathe, Savannah told herself as she nodded again and reached for Tina’s extended hand. Don’t panic—that’ll make it worse. She had the EpiPen somewhere—did she put it in her medicine cabinet? Or maybe it was in her cosmetics bag. It was hard to think; she felt almost drunk, even though she’d had only a few sips of wine. She lay down on her bed, listening to Tina tear through the bathroom. Something crashed to the floor and shattered.
“It’s not here,” Tina said. She tore open the dresser drawers and began rifling through them, flinging clothes around.
“My suitcase,” Savannah gasped. It was hard to swallow. She was so dizzy . . .
Tina hurried to the closet, yanked open the door, and bent down. “Got it.” She hurried to Savannah’s side, unbuttoned her jean shorts, pulled them down, and jabbed her upper thigh with the EpiPen.
“One . . . two . . .” Tina slowly counted to ten, then withdrew the pen. “Just lie there for a minute. I found your prescription steroids, too. I’m going to give you four of them. Let them dissolve on your tongue, okay?”
The Best of Us Page 15
