The Best of Us

by Sarah Pekkanen

  “Please don’t try to excuse what I did,” Allie said.

  “You made a mistake,” Tina said.

  “It was more than a mistake!”

  “A big mistake. You’re not a bad person, though. There’s a difference.”

  “You know what the worst part is?” Allie said. “If there’s a worst part; it’s all so awful.”

  “What?”

  “Knowing Ryan, when I tell him everything, he’ll stay with me because he’ll be worried about the ALS. He’ll want to make sure he doesn’t desert me in case I start to die, even if he doesn’t love me anymore. I don’t deserve him.”

  “Allie,” Tina said firmly. “You do deserve him. And you deserve to live a long, happy life. And you will.”

  Allie seemed not to hear her. “Please just tell me how to get through the next day and a half,” she begged. “Being here, on this trip . . . I thought it would be a good thing. I tried to pretend I wouldn’t think about that horrible gene running through my birth family. But now everything is so much worse. I’ve made it worse.”

  Tina watched a few more waves crash down while she thought about what to say.

  “You were the one who told me to take it moment by moment when I didn’t want the trip to end,” she finally said. “I think you should do the same thing now. We’ll stay here and talk. Then we’ll go back to the others and get some coffee. That’s all you have to do for now.”

  Allie nodded. “Tina?” she said. “Could I ask you something?”

  “Anything,” Tina said.

  “Stay close to me today, okay?” Allie said. Her tears started up again.

  “Not just today,” Tina said. She tilted her head so it touched Allie’s. “Always.”

  * * *

  “Hello!”

  Savannah was the closest to the stairs, so she heard the shout. She turned and shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked up. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt instead of his chef whites, so it took her a moment to recognize Patrick.

  She waved, and he slowly made his way down the stairs, moving in a zigzag pattern to avoid the broken ones.

  “You’re all safe?” he asked when he reached them.

  “Yep,” Savannah said. “We can’t say the same for the bottle of tequila we opened last night—it met an untimely end—but we’re still standing.”

  By now Allie and Tina had come to join them. “How’s your family?” Allie asked.

  “Everyone is good,” Patrick said. “No loss of life in this storm.”

  “If that was just a Category Two, I never want to see a Category Five,” Tina said, shuddering. “It was awful.”

  “What are the roads like?” Savannah asked. “I’m surprised you made it here.”

  “I have a motorbike,” he said. “No way can a car get through. Trees are down everywhere.”

  “But we’re supposed to leave tomorrow!” Allie cried.

  “That’s what I came to tell you,” Patrick said. “If you need to get to the airstrip, all of my cousins have motorcycles. We can give you lifts.”

  “Let’s do it,” Tina said. “We can just carry essential stuff and have our suitcases shipped later. Or we can leave it all. I’m not really caring about stuff right now, you know?”

  “I’m ready to go home, too,” Allie said. “I really want to see my kids. Thank you, Patrick.”

  He inclined his head.

  “Is your home okay?” Tina asked.

  He shrugged. “Lots of damage. Shingles came off the roof, mostly. We’ve got leaks.”

  “Oh, no!” Savannah said. “What are you going to do?”

  He smiled broadly. “Rebuild,” he said. “It’s what Jamaicans do.”

  “Patrick, my man!” Gio wandered over and slapped Patrick’s palm with his own. “What’s in the bag?”

  Patrick opened the white sack he was clutching. “Biscuits with ham and cheese,” he said, passing out the foil-wrapped packages. “I made them yesterday before the storm hit and kept them on ice, then I heated them over the fire before I came. Just cheese for the lady,” he said to Allie as he gave her one.

  “They smell incredible,” Tina said. “And they’re still warm. Thank you!”

  Patrick frowned. “There were seven of you, so I brought seven . . . but now you’re eight?”

  Savannah could feel the others turn to her.

  “Yes,” she said. “My”—she cleared her throat—“husband joined us at the last minute.”

  She looked at Gary. He’d taken off his shoes and was wading up to his knees in the water. As vacations went, this one probably wouldn’t top his list of favorites: He’d slept on the floor, been denied a shower or shave, and now he’d get nothing but Sanka and some bruised fruit for breakfast. Yet he’d come all the way here, not knowing what awaited him.

  Savannah looked down at the biscuit in her hands, then broke it in half.

  “Gary!” she called. “Breakfast!”

  Could she ever trust him again? she wondered. She’d always be tempted to check his BlackBerry, and she’d need to know if The Nurse was working the same shift every time he left for the hospital. And what if Gary left her again—five, ten, twenty years down the line, when her face was wrinkled and her body had gone soft? When her window of being beautiful had passed, and no young crewman would ever flirt with her again?

  Rebuilding was more difficult than Patrick made it sound. It always took longer, and ended up being more costly than you expected. Savannah wondered if she had it in her to do it.

  She watched as Gary came toward her. She knew the answer wouldn’t be simple.

  * * *

  Everyone turned toward Allie at the sudden, sharp sound.

  “Oh!” she said, reaching into her pocket. “I’m getting cell phone reception! How is that possible?”

  “I guess Betty wasn’t strong enough to knock out the cell towers,” Gio said.

  “Aren’t you going to get it, Allie?” Ryan asked.

  The others could hear her say, “Hello?” And then she walked away, down the beach.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  * * *

  Roulette

  “HEY, IT’S DEBBY.”

  Allie rolled her eyes. Her birth mother’s timing was exquisite.

  “I’m going to have to call you back later,” Allie said. She kicked up a cloud of white sand with her toes, then watched it scatter down.

  “Hang on a sec,” Debby said.

  “I’m in Jamaica now,” Allie started to explain, then she stopped herself. Why was she being so polite? “I’ve got to go.”

  “No, don’t hang up! It’s . . . important.”

  “What is it?”

  Allie could hear the sound of a match striking, then Debby’s quick, fierce inhalation.

  “Look, if you need to borrow money again, this is a horrible—” Allie began.

  “It’s nothing like that,” Debby interrupted. “So, all that stuff with Hank and the Lou Gehrig’s disease?”

  That stuff? Allie thought.

  “I, ah, keep thinking about how upset you sounded when I told you,” Debby said.

  “Well, yeah,” Allie said. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance I got his gene. I’ve been a little upset!”

  She took a breath and erased the sarcasm from her voice. “I appreciate you calling. But there isn’t anything you can do—”

  “If you’d just let me get in a word edgewise!” Debby almost snapped. “This isn’t easy, okay?”

  Allie almost laughed. Not easy for whom?

  “Hank and I were together junior year,” Debby said. Allie could hear her sucking in more nicotine. “Just for a few months. I told you all that. But there was this other guy . . .”

  “Another guy?”

  “I was, ah, with him a few times, too.”

  Allie collapsed to her knees. “Oh, my God,” she breathed.

  “Look, I figured it was Hank who got me pregnant because I was with him more, and besides, what did it matter? It’s not like
either of them wanted to marry me.”

  “Who was the other guy?” Allie asked in a voice that didn’t sound like her own.

  “Some dude a year ahead of me. He fought in Iraq, I heard.”

  “I need his name,” Allie said. “Debby, you’ve got to give me his name!”

  “Jason. Jason Phillips.”

  Allie closed her eyes. “Jason Phillips. Do you know where he is now?”

  “Naw,” Debby said. “I told you everything.”

  “You have to tell me more, Debby. Do you have any idea which one was my father?”

  “If I had to guess?” Debby said, and Allie held her breath. “I’d say it’s fifty-fifty. You don’t look like either of them.”

  Those exact odds again, Allie thought. Her life was a tiny silver ball whirling around a roulette wheel, slipping into a red slot, then bouncing out and landing in a black one, then spinning out again.

  “I wasn’t a slut or anything,” Debby said, her voice making the statement into an argument. “I only slept with those two guys all year!”

  “I never— I don’t . . . Debby, I don’t care about any of that!” Allie said.

  “Anyway, I thought you should know,” Debby said.

  “Thank you,” Allie said.

  “Look, you’re not going to hold this against me, are you?” Debby asked. “For not telling you the truth?”

  “Debby, right now all I want to do is hug you,” Allie said. Maybe later she’d be angry that her birth mother hadn’t admitted it from the beginning—or at least when Allie learned about Hank’s death—but now there wasn’t room for anything in her but relief.

  She ended the call and stayed on her knees, feeling the sand biting into her skin as she stared out at the water.

  She didn’t deserve this possible reprieve. Other people should’ve gotten this piece of luck instead.

  “Thank you,” she said aloud.

  She looked up at the sun in the perfect, seamless sky, then out at the water again, feeling as if she were seeing it for the first time on this trip. All the colors! The sea was green and turquoise, sapphire and indigo. Songbirds called to one another over the sound of the gently breaking waves, and a larger bird arced toward the water, hoping to find breakfast. Jamaica was battered, but her beauty still shone through.

  “Thank you,” she repeated, her voice rising with every repetition. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  She breathed in the warm, salty air and got to her feet, walking close enough to the water to feel the spray on her face. Then she turned back around. Tina was coming toward her, a worried look on her face, and Allie smiled to reassure her as she began heading back to her friends.

  In the distance, Allie could see the others still talking to Patrick. Then Ryan twisted around and held her eyes with his own, and she was reminded of coming toward him on their wedding day, feeling as if she were brimming over with joy. But now Dwight was turning around and staring at her, too.

  Allie’s eyes flitted back and forth between them, and she made a vow, just as she had on that long-ago day. This time, though, it was a silent one, and it was to both men: I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  * * *

  Friday Night

  “IS PAULINE STILL SICK?” Savannah asked.

  Dwight nodded. “It’s a bad headache.”

  “Does she get them often?” Tina asked. “Migraines are the worst.”

  “I don’t think she’s ever had one before,” Dwight said. “Not like this, anyway. I brought her some Tylenol right before we came down here, but she said she just wants to rest.”

  They were sitting around the fire pit, watching orange and gold flames reach toward the sky. The night air felt velvety soft. Patrick had come back a few hours earlier, carrying a bulging backpack down to the beach. As everyone had gathered to watch, he’d pulled out two coconuts, put them atop a rock, and used a machete to break them open. Then he’d served everyone a fresh slice topped with brown sugar.

  “I’ve never tasted anything so good!” Tina had squealed, but she corrected herself a little while later, after Patrick had pulled out a frying pan and a tin of his cornmeal dumplings and cooked them over the fire.

  Now the chef was gone, but he’d left behind a quart of fresh coconut juice, and everyone was drinking it along with a healthy dose of rum. It tasted like a little bit of heaven, Savannah had said, and they’d all agreed.

  “Can we do anything for Pauline?” Tina asked now. “I feel like she has missed so much of the trip. First when she went to go help her mother, and now this . . .”

  “I’ll bring her a plate,” Savannah said. She stood up and brushed the sand off her legs. “I’m sure she doesn’t want a hot dog, but I’ll get her some bottled water and fruit.”

  “I’ll help,” Allie said, jumping up.

  “Me, too,” Tina said.

  “Oh, great, the three of us in the kitchen? You know that’s never a good scene,” Savannah said.

  “You going to take off each other’s pants again?” Gio asked.

  “Seriously!” Tina said, rolling her eyes. “You’re a father of four. A churchgoing father of four!”

  Ryan poked at the bonfire with a stick, sending up a shower of sparks. “Check the pantry for marshmallows before you come back,” he said.

  “Ooh, good idea,” Tina said. “Don’t you guys feel like we’re in camp? Toasted marshmallows would be the perfect touch.”

  “S’mores would be even better,” said Ryan. “Isn’t it funny how you never hear anyone ask for s’less?”

  Tina laughed and linked her arm through Allie’s. “Let’s go,” she said. “It’s still light enough to see on the steps, but we should bring the lanterns when we come back.”

  “Definitely,” Allie said, shuddering. “I’ve used up all my good luck for today. I don’t want any of us to trip on those stairs.”

  “You’ve got a lot of luck left,” Tina said, squeezing Allie’s arm. “Trust me.”

  “Why do I feel like you two are talking in code?” Ryan asked.

  “I always feel that way around women,” Gio said. “Hey, Dwight, will you beer me?”

  Dwight reached into the cooler and tossed him a Red Stripe, then opened one of his own as the women began to climb the stairs.

  “What do you think Pauline would like?” Allie asked once they reached the kitchen. “Maybe toast? Oh, wait, we can’t toast the bread without electricity. Plain bread?” She wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound so appetizing.”

  “Probably just water,” Savannah said. “And maybe one of those bananas. I’ll ask her if she wants something else.”

  “Should we all take it in there?” Tina asked.

  “Nah,” Savannah said, tucking the bottle of water under her arm as she reached for the banana. “I’ve got this one.”

  * * *

  “Well, that was odd,” Tina said as Savannah’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. “She’s not usually the Florence Nightingale type.”

  “Maybe she’s just grateful for everything Pauline has done this week,” Allie said. “Being here made it possible for Gary to make a grand gesture. It wouldn’t have been so effective if he’d just driven a few blocks across town.”

  Tina laughed and slung her arm around Allie’s shoulder to give her a minihug. “I can’t stop thinking about what Debby told you,” she said. She’d been struck speechless at the news, and she’d made Allie repeat it twice. She hadn’t even begun to wrap her mind around the fact that Allie might be diagnosed with ALS at some point, and now here was a possible reprieve.

  “I know,” Allie said. “Me, too. I keep hearing her voice in my mind, telling me another man might be my father.”

  “Does it . . . change anything?” Tina asked. “In terms of what you’re going to do?”

  Allie nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “It does. I’ve made a decision. I’m not going to try to find out.”

  “You
mean which one’s your biological father?”

  “Any of it,” Allie said. She leaned back against the counter, and Tina was struck by the fact that for the first time on this vacation, Allie looked at peace.

  “I’d have to track down Jason, and convince him to take a paternity test, then wait for the results . . . then if I wasn’t his, I’d have to see if Hank got genetic testing, then maybe go through testing myself . . . Tina, it would consume my life. And I might not even get any answers.”

  “So you’re just going to hope you don’t have it?” Tina asked.

  Allie nodded. “The counselor said something to me that sounded crazy at the time, but now it kind of makes sense. She said I should choose to believe I don’t have ALS. That’s what I’m going to do, Tina. I don’t have it. I really feel like I don’t.”

  “I know you don’t,” Tina said.

  “And as for Ryan . . .” Allie took in a deep breath. “I can’t tell him about Dwight. I won’t do that to him, to either of them. I’m going to talk to him about the ALS possibility, of course, but I can’t lay all of this on him.”

  “I don’t think you should, either,” Tina said. “You might feel less guilty, but he’d be devastated.”

  “I’m going to live with the guilt, every single day,” Allie said. “That’s my punishment. I’m going to know every time I look at Ryan that he risked his life to save me and that I don’t deserve him.”

  “Please stop saying that,” Tina said. “Look, Gio and I have done stuff to each other—not this, but we’ve hurt one another. Said awful things. There have been times I’ve almost hated him. No marriage is perfect, Al.”

  Allie knew Tina was trying to help, but she didn’t want to be absolved. She welcomed the guilt, even though she knew it would haunt her every time she heard the word vacation, or listened to one of their college songs, or tasted a piece of candy. It would torment her in all of the spaces between those times, too. Maybe she was making a kind of unconscious trade-off—she’d wear a heavy, lonely cloak of guilt, just so long as she didn’t get ALS—but it didn’t matter.