by Nancy Thayer
Marlow had had his faults, but mysteriousness had not been one of them. Nell had always known exactly how Marlow felt about every subject man or beast could bring up. If he erred on the side of excess, still, he always let you know where you stood with him. When Nell remembered the summer they first met—which came to her memory strangely devoid of any emotion on her part, as if it had all happened to someone else in another time, on another planet, in a dream—when she remembered that brief wild summer during which they met and married in three months’ time, Nell thought that part of the pleasure of it all had been that Marlow had been so certain. He had so definitely wanted her. He had had passion enough for two. There had been no room for doubt. Who doubts a hurricane when it’s coming straight at you, sweeping you away? Nell had been carried away by her destiny … or at least by the heat and velocity of Marlow’s desire.
* * *
With Steve, with Ben, with Stellios, it had been more or less the same. If they had not courted Nell with the drama and flair that Marlow employed, at least they had made it clear to her that they wanted her. There had been no ambiguity about their intentions. And the two different times since her divorce when Nell thought she was in love with other men had also been clear. Brief, painful, but crystal clear. She had met the men, been overcome with passion, then overcome with pain as they quickly let it be known that she was to be only one of many women in their lives. Even if she had been shoved aside, scorned, at least she had known exactly where she stood. She had stopped seeing those men, because she could not tolerate loving men who did not love her, and her time of mourning had been mercifully short. In both cases it had ended up that out of sight really did prove to be out of mind.
With Andy, with goddamn Andy, it was different. He told Nell he loved her; he acted as if he loved her. But he never brought up any mention of the future. Two days before Nell and her children and Clary were going back to the mainland, Andy still had not said anything about seeing Nell again. She didn’t know how to bring up the subject herself without seeming suppliant. She was terrified that in expressing the desire to see him after this summer, she would give away her deeper hopes—that they might be on the way to being truly connected with each other.
The night before, she had called Katy Anderson in Arlington to tell her when she and the children would be arriving home. It was not imperative for Katy to know this at all; it was more that Nell felt a sudden need to get back in touch with those she cared for who lived in Arlington. To make her old life, her Arlington life, seem real. She had been away from it for three months. She had been living a dream for three months on Nantucket, working, playing, sleeping with a man she loved. In three days she would be back in Arlington and all of this would be the dream.
She did not want to leave Nantucket. She did not want to leave Andy. She did not want the summer to end. She desperately did not want this summer to end. But of course it would end, and life would go on. She called Katy to remind herself that there were people in Arlington she loved, who loved her, too; she had friends.
Katy’s voice had been warm. “We can’t wait to see you, Nell,” she said. “And wait till you see me. This baby’s due any day now, you know. I look like I’ve got an entire basketball and net inside me … what’s that?”
Her voice trailed off, and Nell could tell her attention had turned away from the phone. When she came back on, she was laughing. “John said to tell you I look like I’ve got an entire field house inside me. Thanks a lot.” She addressed the latter remark to John, then spoke to Nell again. “Anyway, I bet you look gorgeous, all brown and healthy. How’re things going with that Andy person? Your postcards have been cryptic.”
Before Nell could answer, Katy’s attention disappeared from the phone again. “No, darling,” she was saying to John. “I can do that. Honey, don’t bother. You’ve had a long day. Sit down. That’s one thing I can still do.”
She spoke into the phone again. “Sorry, Nell. I just wanted to stop John before he stacked the dishwasher. He’s been doing everything for me, in addition to keeping his practice up. He’s more exhausted by my pregnancy than I am. Now, what were you saying?”
Nell tried to sound enthusiastic about Andy, but it was hard work. She had to summon up her old acting talents. Faced with the marital bliss of the Andersons, faced with Katy’s unwitting security, faced with Katy’s life—she had a man who was doing everything for her—Nell’s joy in Andy’s halfhearted love failed. As did her feeling of security about having friends back in Arlington. Katy and John loved her—but they loved each other a million times, universes, more. Nell had hung up the phone feeling more bereft than before she had called.
It was two days after Labor Day; two days before they left Nantucket. Camp was over for the children. Nell had given them money and told them to walk to town to buy doughnuts and souvenirs and to take as long as they could doing it. She had to do some laundry and housecleaning and packing; she would take them to the beach in the afternoon. The jewelry store had closed for the season, so Clary was home, too. She was also cleaning and packing, up in her bedroom and in the upstairs bathroom. Nell was working in the kitchen, tossing stuff from the refrigerator and cupboards into a giant black trash sack. She found two old plastic bags with the heel ends of bread molding inside the cupboard, Popsicles stuck to ice cube trays, cans of tuna that had been opened and half eaten and covered with tin foil and placed in the refrigerator to get shoved to the back, where the fish turned brown and dry. How had the place gotten so disgusting in just three months?
* * *
Nell and Clary had agreed that they worked better to music. They had stacked the stereo with records, alternating Clary’s favorites with Nell’s, although they both liked the same music. In fact they owned several of the same records, which made it possible for them to hear both sides of the Police album or Flashdance without having to flip the record over. They had turned the stereo volume as high as it would go so they could hear it all through the house as they went about their chores.
Nell was wearing jean shorts and a white T-shirt and was barefoot. She had on no makeup and her hair was tied back with a scarf. But in her mind she was in concert, onstage, wearing a minidress dripping with sequins, with spangles braided into her hair; she had a microphone in her hand and was bellowing out a song about the pain of love while thousands in the audience cheered and clapped and went mad with desire at the sight and sound of her. That would make her happy, Nell thought; that would be the right way to live a life. She shouldn’t have tried to be an actress, she should have tried to be a rock singer. God, how wonderful it must be to be a rock singer, she thought, to be able to really scream out your passion that way.
“I really want you tonight!” she yelled along with the record, and turned to drop some withered lemons into the trash. As she turned, she caught sight of something new in the kitchen; startled, she screamed and jumped. Then realized it was Andy. She had not heard him come in because of the music.
“Andy!” she said, smiling. God, she wondered, how long had he been standing there?
“Sorry to scare you,” he said. “But the music …”
“I know,” Nell said. “Want some coffee?” She wiped her hands on her jeans.
“No thanks. But I’d like to go for a walk with you.”
“Oh, Andy,” Nell sighed. “I don’t think I can right now. I’ve got to get all this cleaned up.… ”
“Well, I don’t really want to go for a walk,” Andy said. “I mean I would like to talk to you. But I don’t know how we can talk with that—noise—going on.”
Nell was shaken. He wants to talk, she thought. Her heart pounded in her throat. Oh God, she thought, why does he want to talk when I look so especially grubby? Why couldn’t he want to talk at night, after dinner, when we’re alone and my hair’s combed and my eyelashes are curled? This is not how I’ve imagined our romantic conversation would be. Still, she did not want to lose this opportunity. He had come to talk. She was elated.
“I would think it would give her a headache more than energy,” Andy said. He followed Nell into the front parlor. “Awful stuff they’re turning out these days,” he went on. “It all sounds like a bunch of chimpanzees have been turned loose.”
“Do you really think so?” Nell said. “You don’t like rock and roll?” She shut the door behind him and crossed the room to stand by a window.
Andy leaned against the opposite wall. “Not much of it,” he said. “It’s all amplified. It requires no talent. It’s just noise and cheap sentiment. Mostly noise.”
“Oh I don’t know,” Nell said. “I think a lot of it is marvelous. The new synthesizers—some of the music is quite complex.”
“Complex!” Andy said. “Nell, listen to that music that’s playing now—if you can call it music. It’s not much more than a drumbeat. We can feel it coming through the walls. We might as well be primitives hitting animal skins and shaking gourds. And that woman isn’t singing; she’s got no voice at all. She’s screaming. I’m surprised you like that music, Nell. It’s so juvenile.”
“Well, at least it’s definite!” Nell snapped. “At least it’s clear. At least it’s not ambiguous!” She glared at Andy. It seemed that without planning it, they had stumbled onto a different, more intimate topic.
Andy glared back at Nell. Then he crossed the room and took her in his arms. “Yes, that’s true,” he said. “It’s not ambiguous. That’s one of the advantages—and disadvantages—of being juvenile. You can see everything in absolutes. There are no complications, no gray areas. Everything is clearly right or wrong.” He spoke into her hair. “But when you get older, it gets more complicated, doesn’t it? Decisions, I mean.” Before Nell could respond, he said, “Nell, I’ve been thinking a lot about how we can continue to see each other. You know I want that. I think you want that. But you’ve got to be in Arlington; your home is there. You work there. The children go to school there. And I have to be here. I’m going to miss you. Nell, I love you. You know that.”
“I know that,” Nell said. “And I love you.” She was glad he was holding her pressed against him so that he could not see her face. She was smiling, wild with hope.
He gently pushed her away from him then and walked around the room. “But there’s this problem,” he said. “I hate leaving Nantucket. Especially now. I mean, after all the tourists go it’s as if I have ‘my’ island back again. I really don’t like going onto the mainland. I hate the traffic, the people, the filth, the noise. I don’t suppose I’ve been off Nantucket but nine times in nine years. What I’m saying is that I’m going to have to ask you to be the one to travel here to see me. That’s a lot to ask, I know. But I’d be glad to help you financially. And you might enjoy coming here occasionally in the fall and winter. It’s pleasant here then, in a different way. You could come the weekends that Marlow and Charlotte have the children. I’d pamper you. Cook you gourmet meals. You could have a vacation from real life every time you came. You could fly over on Friday nights and back on Sunday nights; we’d have two days and two nights together. I’d be glad to pay for your plane tickets; I’d insist on doing that. I want to keep seeing you. I just selfishly want to see you here, as much as possible.”
Nell sank onto the sofa, stunned. She looked at the floor and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hand, and the sharp pain distracted her and kept her from crying. She was shattered by the difference between what she hoped he would say to her and what he was in reality saying.
“I’m upsetting you, I can see,” he said. He came over and sat down on the sofa near her, but not touching her. “Is it because I’m asking you to come here to be with me?”
What shall I say? Nell thought. All the voices of her past warned her: Be cool! Play hard to get! Don’t be clingy! He won’t want you unless he has to work for you. Don’t make it too easy for him.
“No,” Nell said. “It’s not that. It’s just that—Andy, there’s such a difference between what I want to talk about with you and what you want to talk about with me. I want to talk about the—the future and you want to talk about seeing each other.”
“But I am talking about the future,” Andy said, bewildered.
“Seeing each other?” Nell asked. “Andy, we’ve been practically living with each other for three months now. Are we going to go back to seeing each other? Andy, the future I want to talk about is—is a long-range future. I mean, our lives. I mean, don’t you ever think about the two of us sharing our lives?”
Andy had been looking at Nell intently; now his eyes dropped to the floor. “Nell,” he said, “I’ve lived alone for a long time now. I’ve gotten to like it a lot. I don’t have any idea how good I would be at really living with someone else. And after all, we’ve known each other for only three months. Don’t you think it’s a little early to talk about the distant future?”
I hate myself for being a fool, Nell thought. I hate myself for being the beggar here, and I hate you, Andy, for rejecting me. Yet how subtly this is all being done, she thought. None of the crucial words was being spoken. At least there was that. Maybe that’s all the grace you gain by growing older. She had a lump in her throat and was afraid to speak, afraid that any movement on her part at all would start tears cascading from her eyes, would make her voice quaver, would start an avalanche of emotion. She did not want to fall apart in front of him.
“Yes,” she managed to say. “I suppose it is a little early to talk about the distant future.”
Andy looked at Nell, pulled her into his arms, held her against him. “Oh, Nell,” he said. “I do love you. Believe me, I love you. I want you in my life. I can’t promise more than that, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know how much I can change. I’ve been a terrible recluse for a long time. But I want to keep seeing you. I love you, Nell.”
He held her against him, kissing her face and hair. Nell couldn’t stop herself from crying then.
“Please,” he said. “Please say you’ll come see me. Let’s make some plans. And I’ll call you often. And I’ll try to come to Arlington sometime. I want to see your house, meet your friends. Nell, don’t cry.”
“Oh, Andy,” Nell said. She was completely confused. She felt like a starving beast whose owner is throwing him crumbs instead of the whole and satisfying meal. And yet, she thought, Andy was right. They had been together for only three months. If he was erring by his slowness, she was erring equally by her impetuosity.
“Oh, Andy,” she said again. “I love you. I love you so.” Say you need me, she was thinking. Say something more, anything more, I need to hear more from you.
“Oh, Nell. My sweet Nell,” Andy said.
That’s not it, Nell thought.
“Mommy! We’re home!”
Hannah and Jeremy came through the front door, their voices and movements coming loud and clear even through the rock music. They passed by the closed front parlor door and went thundering into the back living room. “Mommy?” they yelled. “Where are you?”
Reluctantly, Nell released herself from Andy’s arms. “The children are back,” she sighed. “Can we talk about this later?”
“Sure,” he said. “Look, let me take you all out to dinner tonight. And I’ll dig out some airplane schedules. We’ll make some plans.”
“I really can’t plan much until I talk to Marlow,” Nell said. “We usually have had the children alternate weekends, but I don’t know what he’ll want to do this year.”
“Well, but that’s great,” Andy said. He smiled. “We’ll be able to be with each other every other weekend. Who could ask for more?”
I could, you stupid goddamn fool, Nell thought. Then she thought, no, Nell, it’s you who are the stupid goddamn fool. She ope
ned the door to go out into the hall.
“Nell,” Andy said. “Nell. I love you.”
“Mommy!” Jeremy said, running up to her. “Look what we bought!”
Nell turned to her children, both angry at their interruption and grateful for their presence. She knew they would keep her from saying more, asking for more. “Let me see what you got,” she said, her voice normal.
Andy came to her side and surveyed the children’s loot with Nell. “I’m going to take you all out to dinner tonight,” he said. “So think of your favorite place.”
“Vincent’s!” Hannah yelled.
“Henry’s!” Jeremy yelled.
Andy laughed. “Well, you two decide and I’ll pick you all up at six. Be sure to tell Clary she’s invited, too.”
He left then. Nell told Jeremy and Hannah to put their purchases in the room and to get ready to go to the beach. She walked back through the house, and she was numb. From the stereo, a male rock singer sobbed raggedly about a love that was so deep, so true that it was eternal from the first instant they kissed. Jesus Christ, Nell thought, I’m going to have to stop listening to this sentimental slop. It’s doing me no good. When I get off this island, she decided, I won’t listen to this kind of music ever again. I’ll just listen to Beethoven, Mozart, Erik Satie. Maybe that will calm me down. Maybe then I’ll learn to be cool as crystal inside, restrained.
But she was afraid that for her, restraint would always come as an imposed curbing, like the reins biting into the mouth of a galloping horse, rather than like the inner integrity of a pure block of ice that stood alone, cold to the core, disdainful of heat.
For one last time Nell, Jeremy, Hannah, and Clary spread their beach towels on the sand. Today they had driven out to Surfside. Tomorrow Clary would take the children to Jetties Beach to spend the morning while Nell did the last-minute packing and cleaning. This was the last time they would all four be here together.
