Nantucket Red (Nantucket Blue)

by Leila Howland

  “Come on now,” Liz said. She rapped with the shell-shaped knocker with confidence and placed an arm around my waist. “Just stand up straight and tell him exactly what happened.”

  Paul answered the door, looking freshly showered and grave. He led me into his living room and gestured to the sofa. Liz sat next to me and took my hand as I explained what happened. Paul took notes on a yellow legal pad. I sweated through my blouse in several places.

  “I screwed up,” I said, my voice shaking. “But I swear I didn’t mean it. I paid for the sandwiches. I even left a tip in the jar. Not that that excuses anything, but…” I dissolved into tears.

  “Calm down,” he said. “Take a breath and walk me through the whole thing.” He crossed his long legs and listened as I told the story.

  “Breaking and entering is no joke,” he said, when I finished the sordid tale. “And neither is underage drinking.”

  “I know,” I said, wiping my tears. “It was the first time in my life that I’ve been drunk. I’m so ashamed.”

  “Take it easy. I’ll defend you,” he said. “When do we go in front of the judge?’

  “Tomorrow,” I sobbed. “I have almost four thousand dollars. Will that be enough for your fees?”

  “Honey, I’m not going to charge you. And hey, do you have any idea how many kids this happens to every summer?” He handed me an actual cloth handkerchief.

  “How many?” I asked. “Tell me.”

  “Many,” he said. “I’m not saying that what you did wasn’t very serious. I’m not saying that it’s in any way excusable. But we’re going to do the best we can. There have been presidents of the United States who’ve done far worse than climb through the window of a sandwich shop.”

  “Thank you,” I said, throwing my arms around him. “Thank you so much.”

  “Okay, kiddo. Take a deep breath.”

  “Are you going to tell my mother?” I asked, ending the one-sided hug and taking a short, sharp breath.

  “I’m your lawyer,” Paul said, pushing his Prada glasses up his straight, patrician nose. “This is between us.”

  I don’t know that I’d ever loved anyone more than I did Paul at that moment.

  “Karla? I’ve had an incident,” I said thirty minutes later after Liz had marched me over to Breezes, insisting that I get this over with as soon as possible. Liz waited for me outside in the car. Karla was sitting at her desk, filling out purchase orders. I sat down in the cold, metal folding chair opposite her.

  “What kind of incident?” she asked

  “The kind you’re going to read about in the police blotter,” I said.

  She dropped her pen and sighed. “Oh, Thompson.” She shook her head. “Oh, boy. What happened?”

  I recounted the story for the third time that day. The repetition was giving me a chance to find the narrative and tell it faster. I focused only on the salient details: a girl who’d never been drunk before does something really, really stupid and gets caught.

  For the first time, I avoided tears, but Karla was not charmed. “What kind of an idiot breaks into Something Natural?”

  I proceeded to beg and plead as I had never done before. I told her I was sorry. I told her I’d never even been drunk before and I didn’t intend to be again anytime soon. I told her I’d written a letter of apology to the owners of Something Natural.

  She rubbed her eyes. “I have to think about this.”

  I told her all that was at stake for me. I told her about Rosemary and Jim. I told her about having to live at home if I couldn’t earn the money I’d promised. I told her how good I’d been at saving everything I’d earned. I pulled a crumpled bank deposit receipt from inside my wallet, smoothed it out, and passed it to her.

  “I don’t need to see that,” she said.

  “I’m different from the other summer kids. I work hard.”

  “We’re all hard workers,” she said, flicking the receipt back at me. “That doesn’t make you special. It only means you meet the minimum qualification for the job.”

  I nodded, shoving the bank receipt in my pocket and my humiliation down deep. I stared intently at the wood grain of her desk, darkened by a new shade of shame. “I’ll clean the cappuccino machine every night until…it shines like the top of the Chrysler Building.” It wasn’t until after I said that that I realized I was quoting Annie.

  Karla sighed from some very tired place. “I said I’d think about it.”

  “When will you let me know?” I asked, licking my dehydrated lips.

  “When I’m ready,” she said, waving toward the door and giving me a look that said get out of here.

  “I’ll be ready when you are,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster.

  “How’d it go?” Liz asked when I walked back outside. It was a mercilessly beautiful summer day. The sky was royal blue. The birds sounded like they’d flown straight out of an animated movie and into my nightmare. “Did she fire you?”

  “No,” I said as I shut the car door and secured my seat belt. “But she didn’t not fire me, either.”

  I glanced at my phone. Still no word from Zack. I texted him again: R U ok? Then I texted Jules: Is Zack ok?

  “What are you going to do?” Liz asked. “What’s the plan?”

  “Show up anyway.”

  Thirty

  I ARRIVED EARLY, IN A CLEAN SHIRT, pressed khakis, and full makeup to try to hide my hangover, which had not gone away by three o’clock as Liz had promised it would.

  “Rough night?” Ben asked, as I went behind the bar to grab a Coke.

  “You have no idea.” Had I cheated on him last night when Zack and I held hands and almost kissed? I wasn’t sure. Were Ben and I even going out?

  “That’s some serious concealer you’ve got going on.” He tugged on my T-shirt. “You want to tell me about it in the fridge?”

  “No!”

  “Whoa.” Ben lifted his hand and stepped back three paces.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just…” I stepped toward him and whispered, “I’m not even supposed to be here. I was arrested.”

  “What?” He furrowed his brow in concern. He leaned on the bar, listening, as I told him the short version. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing bad. What were you drinking?”

  “Campari and Sprite.”

  “Campari and Sprite? Sprite? Have I taught you nothing?” He reached for my hand.

  “I can’t.” I sidestepped him without a smile as I saw Karla emerge from the kitchen.

  Karla paused when she saw me, but seemed to accept my presence. The restaurant filled up fast, and she didn’t send me home. It was the busiest night of the summer, and she wouldn’t have made it through the shift short a waitress. I was a machine, working strong right up until closing, even on only a few hours of sleep. I was shaking with hunger and fatigue at the end of the shift. I was stained with coffee and wine and sweating through my T-shirt, but I stayed late and cleaned the cappuccino beast until it gleamed. Then I counted my tips and put them in the jar Karla kept on the bar for her charity, Operation Smile, all two hundred fifty dollars. It was a penance. I put my arms on the bar, laid my head down, and had a small moment of reprieve.

  I didn’t know Karla was watching until she gave my shoulder a rough squeeze and said, “Hope you have a backup shirt for tomorrow night’s shift. The one you’ve got on is a mess.”

  “Thank you,” I called as she walked back to the office, wiping tears of pure exhaustion from my cheeks. “Thank you so much.”

  It was then that I noticed a text from Jules. He’s fine. He spent the night in Lily Park. Showed up around 11 today.

  So he just wasn’t going to text me back? After all that we had been through? After me getting arrested? I would’ve thrown my
phone across the room, except I couldn’t afford a new one.

  The court date arrived quickly. Paul defended me, explained that this was a first-time offense, that I had a stellar academic record and numerous character references, and that it was the first time I’d ever been drunk in my life. He emphasized the fact that no windows had been broken and that I hadn’t actually made any sandwiches. The police confirmed that not only had nothing gone missing or been broken, but also that I’d left forty dollars on the counter and a tip in the tip jar. I guessed that this and my letter had made an impression on the owners of Something Natural, because they decided not to press charges. I was required to stay out of trouble for six months and to write a composition about the dangers of alcohol abuse.

  The judge dismissed both Jules’s case and mine. I thanked Paul. I leapt into his arms and planted a lip-glossed kiss on his smooth, moisturized cheek. Jules and I walked out of the courtroom arm and arm, a pair of free women. Instead of the whole, heavy world, it was only the midday sun that rested on our shoulders.

  Jules, Liz, and I went out for a celebratory lunch at the Brotherhood of Thieves. Liz felt this was the only appropriate place for a burger and fries. Whatever problems she had with Jules she had decided to put aside for the moment. Jules was in the middle of telling us the story of Zack’s night spent sleeping in Lily Park and later being awakened by a group exploring Nanucket’s natural flora when I interrupted.

  “I texted him,” I said. “Twice. He never texted me back.”

  “He’s in deep shit right now,” Jules said, shaking her head.

  “We’re the ones who got arrested,” I reminded her.

  “I saw what was going on between you two that night, by the way,” Jules said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. She didn’t look mad about it. She was smiling.

  “Oh, come on, the hand-holding, the whispering, the kissing.”

  “The kissing?” Liz asked.

  “We didn’t kiss,” I said. Jules cocked an eyebrow. “We brushed lips.”

  They burst out laughing. Jules slurped her Coke. Liz slapped the table.

  I blushed. “What?”

  “Brushed lips,” Liz repeated and wiped her eyes. “That’s rich! Listen, I have a big surprise for your birthday. You must make sure you get the evening off.”

  “Oh, yeah! My birthday is next week. I’m going to be nineteen.” After such a stressful few days, it was a relief to think of something as normal as a birthday.

  “In a year you’ll be ‘in your twenties,’” Jules added with an ominous air as she squeezed one stripe of mustard and one stripe of ketchup down the length of one of my french fries.

  “Don’t act like we’re that different. You’re only three months younger than I am.”

  “Shut up, the pair of you,” Liz said. “I’m twenty.” She lowered her voice and nodded toward the bartender. “But don’t tell Jack over there. He thinks I’m twenty-two.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve already planned something for me, Liz,” I said and rested my head on her shoulder.

  “Course!” Liz said. “That’s what friends do.”

  “Obviously I have your morning planned,” Jules said, stealing another one of my fries. She’d ordered a salad instead of fries with her burger, but she clearly had no intention of touching it. “Because of our usual ritual. The one we’ve done for years now.” Every year since we’d known each other, Jules and I had had waffles on our birthdays and brought out the stuffed pig, Lulu, whom we had co-adopted from FAO Schwarz on my one and only trip to New York with Jules and Nina in the eighth grade. Last year, Jules had tried to carry out the ritual, but she’d walked in on Zack in my bed. I was worried our birthday ritual had been ruined forever, so I felt a happy relief that she’d mentioned it. “But what do you want to do after that?” she asked.

  “I think, after this whole mess, I just want to go the beach and have fun,” I said with a sigh. “Good, clean, summer fun.”

  “Perfect. You two can come to the club!” Jules said. I noticed with surprise that she was including Liz, who had left her out of the evening invitation.

  “You know I love those cabana boys in their polo shirts, but I have a business to run,” Liz said. Her phone vibrated. “That’s the inn phone now.” Jules rolled her eyes, but luckily Liz didn’t notice; she was back to her efficient, inn-running self, even if she did still get teary-eyed at the Samsung commercial with the guy who looked like Shane in it. She finished replying to a text and looked up. “My only request is that you’re back at the inn by five for the surprise.”

  “I can do that, and I’d love to come to the beach club, Jules,” I said. “Can I bring Ben?”

  “Hells yeah. I wouldn’t mind seeing him in his bathing suit,” Jules said. She raised her Coke. “To good, clean, summer fun.”

  “I prefer a bit of dirt with my fun, but okay,” Liz added, lifting her wineglass.

  “To escaping the long arm of the law,” I said, joining with my lemonade. And we all drank to that.

  Thirty-one

  ON MY BIRTHDAY, I WOKE UP EARLY to the chiming of the bells from the gold-domed tower of the nearby church. Liz brought me, on a tray with a pitcher of cream, a piping hot cup of coffee, which I sipped on the hammock in the garden. The morning was balmy and sweet with the scent of freshly mowed grass and blooming gardens. The air hummed an August tune. Mom called to tell me the story of the day I was born. Dad called a few minutes later and sang “Happy Birthday” into the phone and promised a back-to-school shopping trip when I came home.

  When each of them asked me how the summer was going, I felt a pinch of guilt replying, “Fine.” I didn’t tell either of them about getting arrested or about my day in court. It’s not like they read the Inquirer and Mirror, and Paul Morgan had sworn secrecy, so they were unlikely ever to find out. Everything had ended up just fine, so why not wait to tell them until I was much older and we could laugh about the whole thing? Right now it would only have needlessly worried and disappointed them.

  Jules picked me up in her graduation Jeep with Lulu the stuffed pig in the backseat. We drove to the island airport, where Jules had promised they served the best breakfast on the island. We both ordered waffles, of course, and big bowls of cappuccino with extra foam, and guessed about the lives of the travelers coming and going with their rolling luggage and Vera Bradley bags. Jules covered Lulu’s ears when she asked for a side of bacon. When our cappuccinos arrived, I luxuriated in the knowledge that I wouldn’t have to clean the machine that produced them.

  On our way back into town, my phone dinged with a text. It was Ben, wishing me a friendly “happy birthday!” and I texted back a friendly “thanks!” I was happy to hear from Ben, but at the same time, it reminded me that I hadn’t heard from Zack and probably wouldn’t. He hadn’t texted me after I’d been arrested, so why would he contact me on my birthday?

  “Hey, cheer up,” Jules said as she parked in front of Needle and Thread, the fancy Main Street boutique where she worked. “We’re going to go shopping. I’m going to let you use my employee discount.”

  “But I thought you’d get fired if you let your friends use your discount,” I said.

  “The boss is in New York,” Jules said. “I’ll just say I bought it for myself.”

  As soon as we stepped into the store, Jules started chatting up her coworker, Jennie. I spied a red bikini.

  “What do you think?” I asked when I stepped out of the dressing room.

  “Hot,” Jules said.

  “Red hot,” Jennie echoed.

  “It’s actually kind of conservative,” I said, turning around in front of the three-way mirror, noting its full coverage of boobs and butt and the innocent bows at the hips.

  “But that’s what makes it hot,” Jules said. “It leaves something to the imagination. It’s asking the world, Good girl or bad girl?�
�� She stood behind me, took out my ponytail, and shook my hair over my shoulders.

  “Girls can be both,” I said.

  “Of course. We women are very complex.”

  “Guys are, too,” I said, thinking of Zack, so sweet one day and so harsh the next.

  “Yes, humankind is full of contradictions. We could write a thesis, but I’d rather go to the beach,” Jules said. “So I’m buying you this red bikini.”

  “Jules, are you sure?” I asked.

  But she had already clipped the tags and was whispering with Jennie at the cash register.

  “You girls want to sit next to Zack and Parker, right?” the cabana boy asked when Jules and I made our way down the boardwalk, she in Nina’s black bathing suit and I in my brand-new red bikini. He picked up two blue recliners and nodded to the left. “They’re right there.”

  I shook my head.

  “Actually, I think we’ll sit over there,” Jules said, pointing to the opposite end of the beach. “As far away as possible.”

  “You invited Parker?” I asked Jules. The sand was soft and deep and still morning-cool as we walked down the beach, the cabana boy trailing a few feet behind us with our chairs. “On my birthday?”

  “She belongs here,” Jules said under her breath. “I can’t tell her not to come here. Her family practically owns this place. Even on your birthday.”

  “Oh.” She had a point. I looked over my shoulder. Parker was stretched on a recliner in an aquamarine cover-up that looked expensive even from here; one leg dangled as she read a magazine. Zack was sitting next to her in the sand on his Tropicana towel, reading a book. What was he reading? What was he thinking? Did he remember it was my birthday? Did he know we were coming?

  Jules thanked the cabana boy as he set up our chairs, then turned to me. “Besides, what do you care that she’s here? You look amazing.” She flapped her hand at me. “Text your bartender. Tell him to join us.”

  “Okay.” I sent Ben a text. I looked back up at Jules and felt a wave of affection. She was back. My best friend was really back. Ben replied immediately. “He’ll be here in an hour,” I said.