No One But Us

by Elizabeth O'Roark

  “So exactly what portion of the summer will you refuse to speak to me before forgiving me for doing something I’ve never said I did?”

  “What do you care?” she asks. “You avoid me all day unless you’ve been drinking.”

  She’s right, but somehow it sounds worse, hearing her say it aloud. “I’ve tried really hard to be pleasant.”

  Her frown deepens, and her eyes grow so sad it’s hard to look at her. “That’s kind of the point, James. You’re not supposed to have to try. Being in the same room with me shouldn’t be a struggle.”

  I pull into the driveway. “You’re twisting what I said.”

  “It’s okay,” she says quietly as she opens the car door. “I’m used to it.”

  She doesn’t come out to the back deck after we walk inside, and I’m not sure what I could possibly say in my own defense anyway. I have a sudden memory of some grade school award ceremony of hers and Ginny’s that my parents made me attend. Elle won three awards, more than anyone else, and when the ceremony ended and all the parents swarmed the stage, she stood there alone. She didn’t bother looking for her parents. She was just looking for an exit, her head hung low. My parents were off hugging Ginny, but it struck me that Ginny had enough—enough care, enough adoration—and that Elle, who deserved just as much, had none.

  I felt so bad for her. I never thought I’d wind up being one more person she feels rejected by.

  Chapter 19

  ELLE

  The next morning, Max still hasn’t come home, so I’m leaving for yoga by myself when James emerges from his room.

  “I’ll walk with you,” he says. “I need better coffee than the shit we drink here.”

  I’m guessing it’s about our conversation last night. He’s trying to prove he doesn’t avoid me. All it really proves is that he doesn’t want it to appear he avoids me, but I’ll take it.

  We take the boardwalk, though it’s not the most direct route. Early in the day like this, when the tourists are still asleep and Funland is closed, Rehoboth is a different, more peaceful place. Even the water seems calmer. I enjoy my walks with Max, but this is better.

  James’ presence makes almost anything better for me.

  I assume, when we part at the studio’s door, that I will not see him again, but later he comes to the beach with me, as if he’s trying to squeeze a whole summer of civility into one day.

  “What are you reading?” he asks when we’ve laid our towels down.

  “Madame Bovary,” I reply, sliding it toward him.

  “Are you reading it because you think you’ll enjoy it, or are you reading it because you think you’re supposed to?” he asks.

  I shrug. “You know, it’s just one of those books you always hear about.”

  He grins. “So it’s a ‘supposed to’ book.”

  “I guess,” I reply. “But hopefully I’ll enjoy it too.”

  “Do you ever do anything just because, and not to further yourself in some way?” he asks.

  “You sound like Max,” I reply. “What are you reading, then, Max Jr?”

  He looks surprised for a moment and then grins sheepishly. “Two Treatises by John Locke.”

  “Seriously?” I laugh. “You’re reading John Locke and giving me shit?”

  He smiles wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’ve got a good point. Maybe a little bit of Max would do us both some good. Did you know he’s got an IQ of, like, 150 or something?”

  “I’m not surprised,” I reply. “Every once in a while he says something almost profound.”

  “He ought to go back to school. I’m worried he’s never going to find his ‘path’ or whatever it is he claims he’s doing.”

  “And now you sound like Ginny.”

  He groans. “No, actually, I sound like my mom. I think I’d rather be Max.”

  A short time later, James falls asleep on top of his book, and I watch him—the way his long lashes sweep his cheeks and his lower lip falls open, begging me to run my thumb across it.

  It’s one of the best days of my life, and I would swear he enjoys it nearly as much. That weight he always carries seems to disappear, his smile spreading as easily as spilled liquid.

  And then we run into Ginny as we’re walking back to the house, and I can see the weight of his worry return. He speaks to her and hurries away, as if he was just caught doing something he’s forbidden to do.

  Chapter 20

  ELLE

  Edward calls me three times over the next two days. I ignore him until he texts that he has a job for me. He’s found my one weakness. Well, I think, looking over at James—he’s found one of my weaknesses.

  I no longer trust that there’s anywhere in this house where I won’t be overheard, so I walk toward the boardwalk before I dial his number.

  “I’m glad you’re finally calling, Eleanor,” he says. His voice is soothing. He doesn’t sound angry or offended, which is a relief. “I didn’t mean to upset you with the flowers, or with what I wrote.”

  He’s so apologetic, I feel a little guilty. “You didn’t upset me,” I say. “I just—”

  “I know,” he says. “It’s okay. You and I are in very different places in our lives. I get it.”

  Relief whistles through my lungs. “You said you might have a job?”

  “Yes,” he says. “How do you feel about morning television?”

  It’s as good as—maybe even better than—working his show. And as much as I don’t want to leave James, I think he’s proven pretty conclusively that my hopes will amount to nothing. “That would be amazing.”

  “Yes, it’s definitely a good starting point,” he agrees. “This producer is an old friend of mine, and I think she can find something for you. Come up to the Hamptons this weekend, and I’ll introduce you.”

  All that relief and excitement whistles right back out of me like a deflating balloon. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Edward,” I say.

  “The press has moved on, Eleanor,” he says. I hear something tighten in his voice. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “But I told you I don’t want anything, um…” I search for a word to describe what he wants and settle for a euphemism. “Romantic.”

  “If I’m going to lobby to get you this, we need to make it happen in the right way.”

  “Can’t we do that over the phone? Or in the city?”

  “You don’t sound like you really want this,” he says.

  “Of course I do,” I argue, and then I resort to a lie. “But I think my boyfriend would be really bothered by that.”

  “What boyfriend?” he asks, and I hear all the irritation he was restraining burst to the surface. “That singer? I thought you broke up.”

  I’ve never told him anything about Ryan. How does he know? Come to think of it, how did he even know my address to send the flowers? I’ve gone from feeling awkward and unsettled to totally creeped out.

  “Edward,” I say firmly. “I can’t come up there.”

  “You’re making a bad decision,” he warns. Except it feels like less of a friendly warning and more like a threat.

  That’s when I hang up.

  I walk back toward the house slowly, wishing I could tell someone about this call. And the person I want most to tell, oddly enough, is the one who’d go ballistic: James.

  He looks at me curiously when I get inside, as if he knows I’m hiding something. He hasn’t shaved today. It’s so good on him that my eyes catch on it, on him, as if I’d actually run my palm over his jaw.

  I look at him, and I’m glad I can’t let Edward get me a job. I’m glad I’m stuck here to pine for him fruitlessly. And this is perhaps the greatest evidence of all that I really need to leave.

  Ginny and I get home from the bar that night to discover that Max has invited his 150 closest friends over in our absence. She storms out to the back deck where he sits with James, looking far too pleased with himself.

  “Have I mentioned how much I love w
orking a double shift only to walk in and find people having sex in our downstairs bathroom?” she demands.

  “I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I told them to use your bed, but I guess they didn’t listen.”

  “I should have gone to Spain with Alex,” she says as I take an empty chair. “Instead I’ll get to spend my birthday fighting strangers for space on my own fucking deck.”

  Ginny’s birthday is coming up in just a few days. And until this moment, I’d forgotten that she will want us to pull out all the stops.

  “It’ll still be fun,” I coax. “What do you want to do? We could go out? Or have a party at the house?”

  She shoots a dirty look at Max. “A party at the house would be just like every other night.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says.

  She yawns. “I have to call Alex at 7, so I’m going to bed.”

  “That relationship of yours just gets better and better, doesn’t it, Ginny?” goads Max. “Almost as good as James’. Where is the lovely Allison these days anyway? We haven’t had the pleasure of her company yet.”

  James closes his eyes. “Working.”

  “It’s almost like you’re not in a relationship at all,” Max says, walking inside after Ginny with a hint of laughter in his voice.

  I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t help myself. How can his thing with her sound so serious one moment and not at all the next?

  “A little bird told me you’re planning to propose,” I say.

  James snorts. “A little bird named Ginny thinks a whole lot of things that aren’t even vaguely true, and she mouths off about most of them. But that one’s new even to me.”

  “So you’re not? Proposing, I mean?” My heart rate doubles, at least.

  He shakes his head. “Jesus, no.” He laughs in exasperation. “Like my life isn’t enough of a fucking mess. Where does Ginny get these ideas?”

  I’m beginning to think she gets them from Allison, but I keep my mouth shut. “You just bailed on an internship. That’s not a mess—not like the kind I’m in, anyway.”

  He grins. “Yeah, yours is kind of a train wreck, isn’t it?”

  I smack his arm, and he laughs. It’s a low rumble in his throat, and it completely unseats me. I could be in the middle of a funeral and start thinking about bad things if I heard that sound.

  “If only I had Ginny offering me a daily lecture on the perils of failure like she does you,” I say.

  Her lectures to James are tedious even to me, so I can’t imagine how tiresome he finds them.

  “My parents make Ginny look restrained.” He sighs. “They think I’m going to turn into Max.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  He sighs. “They will once they know the worst part.”

  I raise a brow. “What worst part?”

  He hesitates. “You won’t say anything?”

  I nod.

  “I’m not going back to law school.”

  For a moment I am absolutely speechless. “But...but...you’ve only got a year left.”

  “I fucking hate it, Elle. I’ve always hated it, but I was going to gut it out anyway until my grandfather died this spring. He’d just retired. He and my grandmother were going to spend the next two years traveling. They had these amazing plans. But instead, he spent his whole fucking life in that office, doing shit I seriously doubt he enjoyed, and then he died.”

  “And you didn’t want to be him,” I conclude quietly. “That makes sense to me.”

  He looks at me, something pleading in his eyes that makes me feel, for the first time, as if I’m the older of the two of us. “Does it?”

  “Of course it does. Your family is so intense and goal-driven that I’m sure it’s hard to see, but there are millions of jobs out there, and many of them could make you happy. It’d be insanity to agree to the job you know won’t.”

  “Can you not say anything to Ginny yet? This is as big a deal to her as it is to my parents. She was banking on me taking over the law firm so she’d be off the hook. At this point, she’s probably imagining that it’s me and Allison taking over,” he adds with a groan. “She’s going to fucking flip out.”

  “When are you going to let them know?” I ask.

  “As soon as I can tell them for certain what I’m doing in its place.”

  “Which is what?”

  He glances at me. “Last week I didn’t go to DC just to visit friends. I was mostly there to interview with the FBI. They made an offer. I’m waiting until I get the official letter to tell my parents.”

  “You’re leaving?” My voice cracks as I ask the question.

  He shakes his head. “Not until the next training opens for agents. Late September.”

  Relief whistles through my chest. With my fear out of the way, I look at the future he’s creating for himself and see how absolutely perfect it is. James is a natural protector of things. It’s in his nature. Even as a kid, he watched out for me more than my parents ever did.

  “I can’t think of a better job for you, James. What parent wouldn’t be proud of that?”

  “My parents,” he says flatly. “My mother will take one look at the kind of salary I’ll bring home as a government employee and weep as if I’ve died.”

  I’m pissed off on his behalf. His parents’ status-conscious bullshit is well and good, but he shouldn’t have to dread telling them that this is what he wants for himself.

  “Only you will be stuck with the life you choose, and you only get to choose once. So they don’t get a vote.”

  His eyes rest on me. “It’s weird, but somehow I knew you’d be the one person who gets it.”

  “Max would understand.”

  “Max could understand, but not really, because I’m not sure he gets the concept of wanting to feel like you have a purpose. But I knew that you would.”

  I grin. “See how wise I am? By the end of the summer you’ll be coming to me for all of your advice.” I twist the chain around my neck, a nervous habit. I wonder if he’ll ever stop making me nervous.

  His gaze flickers to the chain and back to me, and there is fleeting panic—and regret—on his face before he closes his eyes. “You’re dangerous, Elle.”

  “How so?” I ask.

  He doesn’t open his eyes. “You just are.”

  Chapter 21

  ELLE

  James handles the restaurant reservations for Ginny’s birthday, a harder task than it sounds since her birthday is on the 4th of July.

  “I’ll bake the cake,” I offer.

  “And I’ll plan the huge house party for the night before,” offers Max.

  “You know her so well, don’t you?” I ask.

  “I know her better than she knows herself,” he says, and I suspect he actually means it.

  The only sour note, for me, is the fact that Allison is coming down for the event. Ginny couldn’t be more giddy about this. She is video-chatting with Alex when I go upstairs to get ready for work, and Allison’s arrival is all she wants to talk about. You’d think Hillary Clinton was staying with us.

  On my part, of course, Allison’s arrival here is roughly as welcome as a herpes outbreak. Max seems to feel similarly when I mention it to him.

  “That’s the last thing James needs right now,” he grumbles.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “He’s already confused about school, and all she’s gonna do is show up and make him feel guilty and more confused. He’s spent the whole year surrounded by people like her who have their heads up their asses,” he replies. “That’s why this summer’s been good for him. You and I are good for him. He told me about the FBI thing. And I think the only reason he admitted it to me at all is because he told you and the world didn’t end. He needs more of that in his life.”

  “I was just being honest. He was born to protect people, although I’d say Ginny and I have experienced more than our fair share of his protectiveness this summer.”

  Max gives me a long, pointed look. �
�I’m not sure he’s actually trying to protect you.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  His smile is evasive. “I can’t give away all of James’ secrets, now can I?”

  Ginny is in full scrub-down mode when I get back from the beach on Friday. “Don’t even think about dropping anything there,” she says as I swing my backpack to the ground.

  “Why exactly must I continue to hold my fairly heavy bag?”

  “Because my sister is in an idiot,” comes a voice from the couch. “She seems to have confused Allison with the Pope.”

  “And you’re a lazy sack of shit for not helping,” snipes Ginny.

  James sits up and rolls his eyes. He’s unshowered, unshaven, and still wearing yesterday’s clothes. I can honestly say I’ve never seen him look so disgusting, and it doesn’t diminish his appeal one iota.

  “Who needs a clean house,” he asks, gesturing to himself, “when you have all this to look forward to?”

  “Are you, like, planning to shower or anything?” I ask, scrunching my nose. As if I give a shit whether he cleans up for his girlfriend.

  He shrugs. “Eventually.”

  “Isn’t she coming any minute now?”

  He turns the channel to ESPN. “No clue.”

  I exchange a glance with Ginny, and she rolls her eyes while pretending to shoot herself in the head.

  “Can you make sure his bathroom is clean?” she asks.

  “I can almost guarantee you that his bathroom is not clean,” I tell her.

  “Well, then can you go take care of it?” she huffs.

  “You seriously expect me to go clean your brother’s filthy bathroom so his girlfriend won’t be grossed out?”

  “Oh, sorry, media princess. I forgot you’re too good for that.”

  “Stop being a bitch, Ginny,” James says over the TV. “And both of you stay the fuck out of my room.”

  I go upstairs to shower. I need to get ready for work anyway, but mostly I want to stay out of the line of fire. God only knows what Ginny will expect next. I dry my hair, put on some makeup since I’m working cocktail tonight and my tips tend to be specifically correlated to my appearance, and throw on my uniform. I hear Ginny’s shout of joy, which tells me Allison has arrived, and I hesitate. I kind of don’t want to meet Allison looking like this. Looking just like my mom.