by Nan Rossiter
We sat at a table near the window and Simon ordered a bottle of wine. Almost immediately, the waitress brought it over and opened it at our table. She poured a small amount into a glass and offered it to Simon. With a solemn expression, he swirled it, sniffed, took a sip, and nodded to the waitress. She poured a small amount into each of our glasses and then set the bottle in a chilled ceramic holder. “You’re such a professional,” Lizzy teased.
Simon laughed and held up his glass. “To graduating!” he said, and we clinked our glasses. I took a sip—the golden wine had a pleasant oak flavor—it wasn’t sweet and fruity like Boone’s Farm—and it was in a real glass! For the first time in my life, I wasn’t drinking cheap wine out of a paper cup!
We looked at our menus and Lizzy dared me to order something I’d never had before, which was easy because I hadn’t had anything that was on the menu. My experience with seafood was frozen fish sticks and canned tuna, so when our dinners came and I took a bite of the tender pan-seared “drunken” scallop—so named because it was swimming in a pool of whiskey reduction and melted butter—I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. “Oh, my,” I murmured. “This is better than sex.”
“That’s just because you’ve never had good sex,” Lizzy teased, and I laughed. Leave it to my old friend to speak the sad truth.
“And I probably never will,” I said regretfully. “But at least I can always have drunk scallops,” I added brightly.
After dinner, which included a second bottle of wine and sweet berry cobbler, Simon arranged for a taxi. I felt myself sway slightly as we waited outside, and when the driver pulled up, Lizzy helped me into the back while Simon sat in front with the driver. As we bumped along the cobblestone roads, the salty summer breeze drifted through the open windows, cooling my flushed cheeks. I looked up at the historic New England buildings and felt as if I were in a dream. I wasn’t just on a vacation for the first time in my life—I was a world away from the life I’d always known.
I woke up the next morning with the same sweet breeze rustling the curtains of the lovely room that was mine for a week. I looked around, admiring the creamy white walls, and then blinked at the sunlight streaming through the two large windows. I climbed out of the bed and watched the gentle waves tumbling toward the beach.
“It’s Simon’s grandmother’s house,” Lizzy said, pouring coffee into three china cups. “Isn’t it great?”
“It’s unbelievable,” I said, sliding a cup toward Simon and cradling the third in my hands.
“It is,” Sally agreed, “but Simon says she’s thinking of selling it.”
“She is? Why?”
“Because she’s getting older and she isn’t able to come out anymore.”
“Doesn’t someone in your family want it?” I asked, turning to Simon.
He shook his head. “I spent every summer out here when I was a boy—I have so many wonderful memories, but I’m not in a position to buy it and my parents aren’t interested—they say the ferry is a hassle and they don’t want to have to maintain it.”
“Maybe your grandmother will give it to you.”
“Not likely,” Simon said, laughing. “Little, old Jewish ladies usually don’t give things away.”
“That’s a shame,” I said, as if the little house was going to be my loss. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Well, hopefully the person who buys it will appreciate it as much as my grandmother did,” Simon said. “We’ve shared many happy memories here.”
I nodded thoughtfully.
As the week slipped by, we swam in the frigid ocean, walked along the beach, collected sea glass, seashells, and smooth stones—just like the one Lizzy had used when we’d played hopscotch as girls—shopped in town, went out for ice cream, and read books we found on the shelves.
One morning I was up early, sitting on the porch, reading the book I’d found.
Lizzy peered sleepily through the screen door. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to sleep in on vacation?”
“I know,” I said, smiling, “but this book is really good!”
“What’s it about?” she asked, coming out in her nightgown and sitting across from me.
“It’s about an affair between a married doctor stationed on the front lines during the Russian Revolution and a troubled young woman he meets at a party.”
“Ah,” Lizzy said knowingly. “The tragic affair of Yuri Zhivago and the beguiling Lara.”
“You’ve read it?” I asked in surprise.
“I’ve seen the movie too.”
“There’s a movie?!”
Lizzy nodded.
I frowned. “You went without me?”
She laughed, trying to remember the circumstances. “I guess I did. It was last year—I must’ve gone with Simon. It was one of our first dates.”
I nodded, immediately forgiving her. “Was it good? Did it follow the book?”
“It was wonderful. Sad, though.” She looked to see where I was. “I don’t want to ruin it for you,” she said. “You have to finish before we can talk about it.”
I nodded. “I have to finish today since we’re leaving tomorrow.”
“I know,” she said gloomily. She paused. “Aren’t you glad you came?”
“I’m very glad. You were right—I do love it here.”
“I knew you would.”
Chapter 8
Returning to Medford was like returning to prison—the prison that was my life. Within an hour of saying hello to my dad and unpacking my bag, I was standing at my register, ringing up groceries. I glanced over at the next register—the one that had been Lizzy’s—and saw a new girl standing there. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. I sighed. No more Lizzy. No more making faces or rolling our eyes at each other when a customer came through with an overflowing cart or complaining about the price of an item. No more fun—as if working as a cashier could ever be fun, but Lizzy had, at least, made it tolerable. How would I bear it now? My life’s calling couldn’t possibly be ringing up groceries, and I was certain it wasn’t waitressing either.
My first few nights working at the pub were weeknights, so they were slow and uneventful, but, as with any new job, it took some getting used to. Memorizing the specials was my biggest challenge. That, and remembering to make sure everyone at my assigned tables was happy. I’d rarely gone out to dinner when I was growing up, so I wasn’t familiar with the little things that were expected of waitresses, but I was very glad the pub wasn’t as fancy as the restaurant we’d gone to on Nantucket—I don’t think I could’ve ever opened a bottle of wine at someone’s table. I was accustomed to screw tops, not corkscrews!
On Saturday, I finished my shift at the store, slipped off my red jacket, and slipped on my black apron. I walked to the restaurant, and when I pulled open the employees’ entrance, I found the kitchen already bustling. “Sally, we need you on booths four, five, and six right now!” Jill shouted as the door to the dining room swung closed behind her.
I found my time card, punched in, and reached into my apron for my notepad. “There’s no time for that,” Jill scolded when she came back through the doors and saw me jotting down the specials. “Memorize and get out there.”
I glanced at the hastily scribbled list on the board and then hurried out to the bar, where two parties were already perusing menus and a third was being seated, but when I saw the last party, I stopped in my tracks. “Jill, I can’t take booth six,” I whispered urgently. “Can I please have a different table?”
“What?” she asked impatiently.
“I . . .”
But she didn’t even let me finish. “No, Sally. Go take care of your tables,” she commanded in an annoyed voice. I clenched my fists—I hated being ordered around and I was quickly starting to hate this job.
I took a deep breath, realized I hadn’t looked in a mirror since I’d gotten up that morning, and smoothed my hair. I walked over to booths four and five, took their orders, brought their drinks, and then, with a
pounding heart, turned my attention to booth six. “Hi, my name’s Sally,” I said. “I’m going to be your waitress tonight.”
Drew was sitting the farthest in, looking at his menu, but when he heard my voice, he looked up, and although he didn’t acknowledge me in front of his friends, the look in his eyes spoke volumes.
I waited patiently, feeling his eyes on me until his friends finally decided they weren’t actually ready to order food, but they were ready to order beer. “Two pitchers,” the one closest to me said.
“Great,” I muttered as I walked away. “It’s going to be a long night.”
I quickly lost count of how many pitchers they ordered, but it was definitely enough to make them loud and obnoxious. The people at my other tables ordered, ate, and left, but Drew’s table seemed to be settling in for the night. As the crowd diminished, Jill put me to work drying silverware. “Keep an eye on your table,” she reminded. “Make sure they have everything they need.” I nodded submissively and reached for a dishtowel, unable to shake the sinking feeling that this was going to be my life story—submitting to bossy bosses. It’s what I’d always done, so why should it ever change?
It was well past midnight when Drew’s table finally cleared out. All of the other waitresses and busboys had already left, but since I was the low girl on the totem pole, I had to stay. I went out to the bar to clear their glasses and pitchers and wipe down the table, and as I collected my measly tip, I began to wonder if this job was even worth it. Maybe I should take up my dad’s offer to work at his office—after all, I’d taken several accounting classes and they had to be worth something.
When I finally punched out, I went to the ladies’ room to wash my hands. I couldn’t wait to get home and take a shower—I felt sticky everywhere. I looked in the mirror and sighed—I was a sight! My tan was already fading and I looked tired and old—if that was possible for someone who’d just turned twenty-two. Drew had looked old, too—he wasn’t the cute Irish boy I remembered. He was a man with a scruffy beard and unforgiving eyes.
“Good night, Saul,” I said as I walked past the last cook who’d stayed to clean the grill.
“Good night, honey,” he said with a friendly smile. “See you tomorrow.”
I nodded, already dreading it.
As I walked outside, I felt an odd sensation wash over me—as if someone was watching, but when I turned to look, I didn’t see anyone. I shook the feeling and kept walking—it was only a half a mile to my house, so I’d be home in no time, but as I turned at the corner of the building I felt a sudden chill as Drew stepped out of the shadows.
“How ya doin’, Sal?” he slurred.
“I’m fine, Drew. How are you?” I started to walk more quickly and then wondered if I should run back inside.
“I’ve been better,” he said, swaying slightly.
I nodded and tried to walk past him, but he stepped in front of me.
“Yeah, for some crazy reason, girls just aren’t interested in guys who are married . . . I mean, they’re interested . . . until they find out . . . and then, well, I may as well have leprosy or some other contagion.”
I swallowed, barely able to breathe. He smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. All I wanted to do was get around him and go home, but when I tried, he stepped in front of me again. “Not to mention my job sucks,” he said, bumping me. “Have you ever worked in a mill? Freakin’ factory. Same shit every shitty day.” Then his face lit up. “But I heard you went to college. How was it?”
“Fine,” I said, trying to sound as if college wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“No good jobs, though—just a sucky waitress job?”
I shrugged. His words made me feel even more like a failure.
“Any boyfriends?” he asked.
I looked away, refusing to make eye contact, but he forced my chin up to look at him. “I hope you haven’t been cheating on me,” he warned with venom in his eyes.
I tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Sorry I didn’t introduce ya back there. Maybe I shoulda. . . . ‘Hey, fellas,’ I coulda said, ‘this is my lovely wife.’ ” He laughed derisively and I shook my head and started to try to walk around him, but he stepped in front of me and leaned closer. “My wife,” he whispered in my ear, his stale breath swirling around me. “You are still my wife, aren’t you, Sal? Oh, that’s right . . . you’re going to be my wife forever, aren’t you? And you damn well better not cheat on me.”
I swallowed and looked away; then I heard a car start and realized Saul was leaving. I watched his headlights turn onto the street, and a moment later, he was gone.
“I need to get home, Drew,” I said, trying again to walk around him, but this time he grabbed my arm.
“What’s your hurry, Sal?”
“Don’t do this, Drew,” I said, trying to pull free.
“Don’t do what?” he asked. “Don’t do . . . my wife?” He pressed against me and I tried to push him away, but he yanked me toward the back of the building.
“Stop it!” I cried.
“That’s not what you used to say,” he said, pressing against me. “You used to want it.”
“I don’t remember that,” I said defiantly.
“You begged me . . . ‘C’mon, Drew,’ ” he said in a mockingly high voice. ‘C’mon, Drew, fuck me . . . fuck me as hard as you can.’ ” I heard his belt buckle clink and felt him unzip his pants; then my heart pounded wildly as he lifted my skirt. “I think it’s the least you can do, Sal,” he whispered as he forcefully pushed down my underpants. “After all, no other girls want me, and since you’re my wife, it’s not a crime. In fact, now that I know where you are, I’m gonna hafta stop by more often so you can perform your wifely duties.”
Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, and as Drew forced himself deep and hard inside me, I listened to the dark river swirling by.
Chapter 9
“That is so wrong,” Lizzy said angrily. “He raped you!”
“It’s not rape if I’m his wife,” I said tearfully, my hands still shaking.
“That doesn’t matter,” Lizzy fumed. “Anytime a woman says no—whether she’s his wife or not—it’s rape. You don’t lose your right to say no just because you’re married. These aren’t the Dark Ages, Sally. A woman isn’t expected to submit to her husband just because he wants it, and besides, Drew is only your husband on paper.”
There was that word again—submit. I had submitted to Drew. “I can’t prove anything—it would be my word against his, and since we’re married, I’m sure I’d lose.”
“You shouldn’t have showered.”
“I had to shower—I felt disgusting.”
“You should’ve gone right to the hospital,” she said, shaking her head. “Sally, this is crazy—he raped you and he shouldn’t get away with it!”
“Well, he’s going to,” I said resignedly. “And now he knows where I am, so he’s going to come back so I can ‘perform my wifely duties.’ ”
“He said that?” Lizzy was incredulous.
I nodded.
“Oh, Sally,” she said, pulling me into a hug. “That is not going to happen. Maybe your dad could pick you up after work,” she said, thinking out loud.
I shook my head. “No, he goes to bed early, and besides, I don’t want to tell him.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will upset him and he hasn’t been feeling well. I don’t want to make things worse.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe I have to go back there.”
“Don’t go back,” Lizzy said matter-of-factly. “Quit.”
I wiped my eyes. “I don’t even want to live here anymore. Nothing good ever happens to me here.”
“If you don’t want to live here, Sal, find somewhere else to live. No one said you have to live here. Go somewhere where Drew will never find you.”
“Isn’t that running away?”
“Not really. You’ve never been happy here, and starting fresh is a perfectl
y good reason to move. Go somewhere where you will be happy.”
“What about my dad?”
“Your dad can take care of himself,” she said dismissively. She had no patience for either of our parents.
I shook my head. “I’m all he has.”
“That’s not your fault, Sally. Your dad never tried to find someone new. It’s not fair for him to depend on you. You only have one life, too, and you deserve to live it. Besides, if he misses you, he can move closer to where you are . . . where you are happy.”
“Yeah,” I said, laughing, my voice edged with sarcasm, “and where would that be?”
Lizzy considered for a minute and then a smile crossed her face. “There’s only one place where I’ve seen you truly happy, Sal.”
June
Liam tucked the bookmark Sally had given him between the pages, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. He’d only read the first few chapters, but it was enough to realize that Sally’s life hadn’t been easy. He’d always thought his own life had been hard, but she had suffered just as much loss and heartache. You never know what another person has gone—or is going—through.
Hearing a commotion in the kitchen, he opened his eyes. “Everything okay in there, pal?”
“Yup,” came a small voice, followed by a crash.
“What are you up to?”
“Can’t tell you.”
Liam sat up, wondering if he should go in and check.
“Don’t come in,” the voice called.
“I think I should,” Liam said, frowning.
“Don’t! It’s a surprise.”
Liam sighed and leaned back in his chair. Ever since he’d adopted Cadie’s son, his life had been nothing short of adventure. Gone were the simple days of being Nantucket’s reclusive boat builder. Cadie had changed all that when she swept back into his life after twenty-five years like a summer storm, causing him to fall in love with her all over again. Now he missed her more than ever, and although it had been two years since she died, he still couldn’t believe she was gone.
