The Orphans of Race Point: A Novel

by Patry Francis

  Gus could almost see Neil before him. “On two conditions. First, you forgive me.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Three lives were never the same after that night, including mine—because of what I did.”

  “Don’t give yourself so much credit. You never hit me once. I was the one who—”

  “Listen, I may have been half out of it, but I knew what you were feeling, and I kept pushing. In my own way, I was hitting every bit as hard as you were.”

  “So you won’t say you forgive me?”

  Neil sighed into the phone. “The kind of friends we were, Gus? We shouldn’t even be having this conversation. But sure, I forgive you. Now what’s your second condition?”

  “Two tickets to your show when you come back to Wellfleet? I want to take our housekeeper’s daughter.”

  “They’ll be waiting for you at the window. Opening night. Fifth row, center.”

  Gus hadn’t realized how much he missed his friend and everything he stood for—childhood and home and the fierce loyalties that belonged to both—until he heard his voice. Still, he was surprised when Neil seemed to choke up as they said goodbye.

  They’d seen each other once or twice every summer since then, and though it would never be the same, things had been remarkably easy between them. They went fishing a couple of times like they had when they were boys; they took a few bike rides, laughing after they raced each other up a hill; and every summer, Gus attended Neil’s play.

  Still, he was surprised when Neil showed up for one of his masses. Gus was reading the Gospel when he spotted his friend in a pew near the back of the church, watching him so intensely that when their eyes met, Gus shuddered and looked away. The next time he glanced toward the rear of the church, Neil was gone.

  Later, Gus thought of bringing it up, but then he decided against it. Who knew what had drawn Neil to the church that day? A desire to see Gus in his element? A vague nostalgia for the religion he’d been taught as a child, and then rejected in adolescence? Perhaps even embarrassment at being seen? Whatever it was, Gus didn’t want to know.

  Though he doubted his old friend would ever understand his life, he had begun to look forward to their occasional get-togethers. Still, the idea of a larger reunion scared him. He barely even visited his own family.

  On the beach road, Gus rang Neil’s number. “The Knot? Can you find a bigger dive?” he asked when Neil picked up.

  “I prefer to think of it as a place with atmosphere,” Neil laughed, his old infectious enthusiasm brimming in his voice. “You mean you’re coming?”

  “I didn’t say that. I’ve got to see what’s going on at the house, Neil. My housekeeper—”

  “Hallie isn’t going to be there, if that makes a difference.”

  Gus drew a sharp breath at the mention of her name. Though they had cautiously talked about home, she remained a forbidden topic. “That’s not it,” he said quickly, eager to change the subject. “But as you pointed out, the Church is in enough trouble without a priest skulking around the Knot.”

  “You don’t have to skulk; you can sit at the bar and drink Shirley Temples if you want to. Come on, Gus. There’s supposed to be a good band. And how long’s it been since we’ve gotten together?”

  “Okay, I’ll come—but I can’t stay long,” Gus said. He was approaching the place where he began and ended every day, no matter what the season. “Listen, my phone’s flickering in and out,” he said. “I’ll call you later. Or, better yet, I’ll just see you there.”

  Before he said goodbye, Gus was peeling off his jacket and then his shirt, climbing out of the car to drop the jeans that covered his bathing suit, shedding his day. The wind spit a sharp flurry of sand against his legs. Forgetting everything, Gus tossed the phone through the car’s open window, and followed the dogs, who were already racing toward the surf.

  Gus was the first one to arrive at the Knot. Dressed in jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and a Patriots cap, he reveled in the chance to represent nothing more exalted or controversial than the local fish-and-chips place whose name was emblazoned across his sweatshirt. He ordered a draft and slipped the bartender a generous tip.

  Though Neil had told him Hallie wouldn’t be there, he found himself scanning the crowd for her. Liam was the one who had broken the news to Gus when she got married. “I know you don’t like to talk about her, but I thought you should know. As you can imagine, everyone was pretty stunned.”

  What shocked Gus wasn’t so much who she had married. The choice made sense to him in a strange sort of way. It was that he knew so little about her life. “If you see her, tell her I said . . .” Then he shook his head. “No, on second thought, don’t. She already knows what I wish for her.”

  While he was lost in thought, two women sat down at the bar. Gus glanced over at them discreetly, wondering if he might have known them in what felt like another lifetime.

  “Mmm. Bailey’s. Best clam rolls on the Cape,” the one who was seated at the next stool said. “Do you work there or something?”

  Gus laughed as he looked down at the logo. “Sometimes I wish I did. Actually, I’m a priest.”

  The woman’s face froze for a minute, and then erupted in laughter. “Good one. I’m Jill,” she said. “And you’re Father—Father Bailey maybe?”

  Her friend giggled. “If you’re a priest, the least you can do is buy us a couple of drinks. The Catholic Church messed me up for years. The way I see it, you guys owe me.”

  Gus lowered his head and laughed briefly. Though he hadn’t been in a place like the Knot in years, he felt oddly at home. It reminded him of some of the bars in Provincetown, places where his father occasionally bought him a ginger ale when he came home from a successful fishing trip. He signaled for the bartender.

  After ordering drinks for the women, he nodded and picked up his beer. He’d started toward the jukebox when he caught sight of Melissa, Neil’s ex-girlfriend from high school. She’d apparently been watching him for several moments from a booth in the corner.

  “Gus Silva,” she said, shaking her head. “All that prayer, all those hours on the altar still haven’t managed to destroy it.”

  He slid into the vinyl seat opposite her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your voodoo, of course.” Melissa glanced in the direction of the women at the bar.

  “Those two were just trying to con someone into buying them a drink.” Gus felt himself grinning ridiculously at the sight of his old friend from home. And when Daisy appeared in the doorway with Sean Mello, he wondered why he had stayed away so long. They exchanged enthusiastic greetings before Gus excused himself to go to the men’s room. When he returned, Neil had arrived with Chad Mendoza and his wife, Erin.

  “Too bad Hallie and Sam didn’t come,” Melissa was saying. “Since they’re on the Cape.”

  “I guess she thought it would be awkward,” Daisy put in.

  “She’s been married for what—five years now?” Neil said. “And he’s a priest, for Christ sake.”

  Daisy sighed. “Though he sure as hell doesn’t look like one. What a waste.”

  “So tell me, Daze. What’s a priest supposed to look like?” Gus said, as he stepped into the circle and gave her a hug.

  “Not like you, bud. And they’re not supposed to feel this good either. Damn. It’s probably a good thing Hallie didn’t come.”

  “Anyone see the beer I left at the booth with Melissa?” Gus asked, changing the subject as he took a seat between Chad and Erin.

  “Forget the beer. It was piss warm, and tonight we’re having something better,” Neil said, producing a bottle of vanilla extract from his pocket. He was smiling, but his mood had clearly changed. “I already ordered a round.”

  On cue, the waitress appeared with her tray, and set it directly on the table. “Captain and Cokes for everyone, right? The taste of old times.”

  While the others reached for their drinks, Gus quietly told the waitress that he’d take
another beer. No one but Neil seemed to notice when he discreetly pushed his mixed drink to the side.

  “You okay, bro?” he asked from across the table. “You’re looking a little pale over there.”

  Gus smiled. “I’m great—even if I feel like I’m in a time warp. I’ve been here five minutes and Daisy’s already giving me crap, and everyone’s getting buzzed on rum and Coke. The next thing you know someone’s going to ask me to build a bonfire.”

  “Not a bad idea. How far is it to the beach?” Daisy asked.

  When everyone else got up to dance, Gus turned to Neil. “I heard you talking about Hallie. Have you seen her?”

  Neil took a long drink from his glass and then claimed the one Gus had abandoned. “She and her husband came to the theater last night.”

  “I didn’t even know you two were in touch.”“Not often, but yeah, we talk. I apologized to Hallie a long time ago, Gus, and somehow she accepted it. I would’ve mentioned it, but, I don’t know, it’s still weird for us, isn’t it?”

  “If it is, it shouldn’t be,” Gus said. “You like him, then—the husband?”

  “You know, I used to think no one would ever deserve Hallie. But Sam comes pretty close.”

  Gus nodded slowly. “I’m glad for her.”

  “I know you are, but it’s gotta hurt a little—”

  If he’d gotten a chance, Gus would have said that he was happy in his life, too. However, before he could speak, his cell phone rang. “I’ll take this in my office,” he said, heading for the only quiet spot in the bar—the men’s room. However, by the time he got there, the caller had hung up.

  He was listening for a message when he caught sight of his own face in the cloudy mirror over the sink, and saw what Neil did when he asked him if he was okay. Suddenly, he knew he couldn’t sit at the table littered with glasses that reeked of vanilla and the past. He didn’t want to listen as his friends talked about Hallie. Or conspicuously avoided the subject. Neil was right about that, too. It did hurt. Imagining her in Provincetown. At Neil’s play. With the husband who had given her the life he never could. He slipped the phone into his pocket, and headed back to the table, where Neil seemed to be in a deep conversation with Melissa.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but that was the hospital. Someone needs the Sacrament of the Sick.”

  At first, it didn’t seem to register amidst all the noise. But when it did, Neil’s eyes flashed. “Jesus Christ, Gus. Can’t you give the holy-roller bullshit a rest for a few hours? This is us.”

  Gus tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table, tension rippling through him. He nodded in Melissa’s direction. “Tell everyone I said goodbye.”

  He heard Neil calling his name as he walked away, but he made no answer. And then he was distracted by someone in the back corner of the bar. He was shocked to recognize Ava Cilento, her straight hair pulled back severely. Of all the people he might expect to see in this rowdy bar, she was the last. Gus pivoted toward the small table where she sat, alone, with a drink that looked untouched.

  But as he approached, Ava rose, pulling on the same thin, wheat-colored cardigan she’d worn the night they met, and started for the door. Despite her unadorned appearance, heads turned. Jack had been right, of course. She was a stunning woman. Somehow that only made Gus pity her more. Even her beauty had become someone else’s possession. He suspected it had brought her little but grief.

  “Ava!” he called through the thick crowd that now filled the bar.

  She turned, briefly acknowledging that she’d heard him, then moved more purposefully toward the exit.

  Gus struggled to follow her, but he was stopped when Melissa seized his arm.

  “He can be a real prick sometimes, can’t he?” she said.

  Gus glanced back at the table where Neil sat alone. “It’s the booze. Never brought out the best in any of us.”

  “The hostility back there? The cracks about your vocation? There’s a lot more than rum behind that,” Melissa said. “Wake up, Gus. It’s Hallie. He still blames you for stealing the love of his life.”

  “That’s ridiculous. There was never anything between Neil and Hallie. Nothing real anyway. Why would he—”

  “Maybe not in your mind. Or Hallie’s. But to Neil, nothing on earth was more real. Obsession doesn’t even begin to describe it. I was his girlfriend. I knew. The only thing that surprises me is that it’s still there.”

  Gus kissed her on the cheek. “Well, whatever it was, it’s over. For all of us. Listen, it was great to see you, but I really do have to go.”

  “The hospital, right?”

  “Actually, the holy roller lied. It’s something else, but right now it feels just as urgent.”

  Gus scanned the room for Ava, but she was gone. By the time he reached the sidewalk, it was as if she had never been there. He was rounding the corner to the next street when he spotted her unlocking her BMW. She had parked directly behind his Corolla.

  Catching sight of him, she looked panicked—as if he was the one who presented a danger to her. He sprinted after her, but she slammed the door before he reached her. Seeing the set of her jaw—so fixed on escape—Gus experienced a sudden instinct to let her go. Perhaps it was Jack’s voice warning him. Or maybe it was the priest who had coached him and his fellow seminarians in the skill of walking away, of knowing when it was time to leave a problem to God. But in spite of those voices and Ava’s clear rebuff, Gus pressed the palm of his hand against the car roof.

  “Can’t you see I want to be left alone?” she said, lowering the window.

  “If that’s what you want, what are you doing here? Why did you follow me?”

  “You flatter yourself, Father.”

  “I probably do—but not in this case. You came here looking for me tonight, which makes me pretty uncomfortable,” Gus said. “If you wanted to see me, I gave you my number.”

  She turned away, exposing the long neck where he’d first seen the bruising. It had faded, but the yellowing shadows still rattled him. “All right, I confess. I called the rectory, and the girl who picked up told me you would be here tonight.”

  Gus remembered how intrigued Julia had been when he told her that he was meeting his old friends.

  “She seemed to believe I knew you from high school,” Ava explained. “Anyway, I didn’t think you would notice me—or try to talk to me.”

  “I already know all about your aversion to talking. Is that why you’ve been leaving those silent messages on my cell?”

  “How are you so sure it’s me?”

  Gus sighed. “Intuition. The question is why you do it. If you don’t have anything to say to me, why dial my number? If you don’t want to see me, why would you follow me?”

  When her eyes filled unexpectedly, Gus offered her the handkerchief he’d pulled out the first time they met.

  “You know, sometimes you remind me of my grandfather in Bratislava,” she said. “With your old-man handkerchief. Your old-man church.”

  “I heard enough of that crap in there—from my friends,” Gus said, looking back toward the bar. “Now are you going to tell me why you’ve been calling me or not?”

  “I meant no insult. My grandfather was a kind man, Father.” Ava said, as she folded the handkerchief into increasingly small squares and triangles, a complex geometry of anxiety. “I mentioned him to honor you.”

  Gus took the handkerchief from her hand. “You barely know me, Ava.”

  “So you want to know why I call? For the same reason I came here tonight. The same reason I go to your beach in the morning when you run. To hear your voice . . . to watch.”

  Yes, that was where he’d seen her, Gus thought, recalling the times when he’d spotted a lonely-looking figure sitting on the jetty at dawn, her hair fluttering in the wind. Once he’d even stopped to warn her that the tide was coming in; she needed to get back to the shore. Then, after she’d waved and started to walk down the broad flat stones toward the beach, he’d resumed his prayer. Forgotten her.
Or so he thought.

  “You come to the beach at dawn to watch me? Do you know how crazy that sounds? If I did that to you, I’d be arrested for stalking. And those calls, those wordless messages. If you don’t want my help, then why?”

  Ava’s eyes glittered. “Do you really want to know? Because in you I see something I lost a long time ago. And sometimes I need to see that again. There are days when I would risk my life to believe in that goodness for one hour. And when I can’t get out of the house, yes, I dial your number. I listen to your voice.”

  Gus shook his head. Then he laughed softly. “I just walked out of that bar because I felt like popping a guy in the mouth. A close friend. That’s your good man for you. Like you said before, we all have something to confess.”

  “But you don’t pop the guy. You walked away. That’s the difference.”

  Gus leaned against the car and smiled. “Most people walk away from their worst instincts—out of sheer self-interest if nothing else. I’ve got three masses tomorrow, and I’m expected at the hospital. I don’t have time to spend a night in the can.”

  Then he turned serious. “You took a fair amount of trouble to track me down tonight. Why don’t you follow me back to the rectory so we can talk about your options? Maybe work out a plan?”

  “I told you before, Father, I already know what I have to do. When the time is right, I’ll say more.” She inserted her key in the ignition, eyes straight ahead. “But not now. Again, you have kept me too long.” Then she yanked the door closed and pulled away.

  Gus watched as she rapidly accelerated and disappeared. He was still staring down the dark road that had swallowed her car when he spotted someone cloaked in shadow across the street. His oldest friend leaned against a building, smoking a cigarette.

  “Gallagher!” Gus called, wondering exactly how long he had been standing there, what he’d seen and how he interpreted it.

  Neil looked embarrassed, as if he’d witnessed something Gus meant to keep secret. He tossed the small flame of his cigarette into the black road and went back inside without answering.