Sunscreen & Coconuts

by Eliza Lentzski

  “That’s a unique perspective,” I noted.

  Kate shrugged. “I’m nothing if not unique.”

  The light chime of silverware tapping against crystal caused the conversations around the table to come to a stop. Mrs. Emerson stood at the head of the table and held up her glass. “I’m no good at these kinds of things, but I’d like to make a toast.”

  Everyone seated searched for the closest drinking glass, of which there were several options.

  “I’d like to give thanks for the opportunity to be together,” Mrs. Emerson began. “These kinds of occasions when all of my children are seated at the table are far and few these days, which makes moments like this even more special. Tom, it’s been such a treat seeing you grow your law office to one of the most respected in New England. Michelle, you get lovelier as the years go by, my darling. What a joy to see you thrive and move up the ranks at your investment firm. And my youngest—my baby—Kate.” Mrs. Emerson stared in our direction. “We’re so happy to have you home for however long that may be, dear. Cheers everyone!”

  All around us, people clanked their glasses together before diving back into the food on their plates.

  I didn’t raise my glass. I tried to look at Kate without being too obvious. “Are you okay?” I murmured.

  I couldn’t pretend that her mom’s toast had made me extremely uncomfortable.

  Her smile was unexpected. “Never been better.”

  Wait staff swooped in and cleared away our plates with practiced precision. I’d barely finished the food in front of me before my plate was removed and another course was placed in front of me. After the salad course came a cheese course, which was followed by the Beef Wellington that Mrs. Emerson had been worried about. Once those plates were cleared, we sat around the table waiting to see if there was more to come.

  I wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin on my lap and set it next to my empty dinner plate.

  Kate looked up after me. “Where are you going?”

  “To see if your mom needs any help.” I’d noticed that when the servers had taken away the dinner plates, Mrs. Emerson had followed them in the direction of what I assumed was the kitchen.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she insisted. “They pay people to do that.”

  “I know.”

  The kitchen was separated from the front of the house by a solid, windowless door. Contemporary architecture favored open-concept floor plans, but I knew enough about New England homes to recognize the age of Kate’s familial home. It had probably been built during the late 18th or early 19th century when wealthy families didn’t allow guests to see the inner workings of their homes. Entertaining occurred in the front parlor while servants toiled in the back kitchens, beyond the purview of visitors.

  The house was old, but the kitchen had been upgraded with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Mrs. Emerson stood in the center of the kitchen, surrounded by the hustle of the hired help.

  “What can I get you, dear?” she offered.

  I watched her carefully remove the plastic wrap off a tray of miniature desserts, which looked like bite-sized cheesecakes and pinafores.

  “Nothing, actually. Can I help you with anything?”

  Mrs. Emerson looked up from her task. She looked confused at first by my appearance as if she didn’t remember me from before. “That’s kind, but I think we’ve got it in here.”

  I nodded, satisfied that I’d at least offered. She stopped me, though, before I could return to the rest of the party.

  “Actually,” she said, changing her mind. “Do you know how to make coffee?”

  I mentally panicked. I couldn’t imagine the fancy cappuccino machine this family probably had.

  “I could take a stab at it.”

  “The coffee pot’s above the refrigerator,” she instructed. “There should be ground beans in the freezer.”

  My momentary panic eased when I realized the Emersons had a basic sixteen-cup coffeemaker. The filters were adjacent to where the machine was stored and the ground beans were right where she’d indicated.

  “I’m sorry. It’s Mercy, right?” Mrs. Emerson asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I confirmed. I didn’t know why I’d added the formality.

  “How is she?”

  It took me a moment to realize she was talking about Kate.

  Mrs. Emerson continued when I didn’t provide an immediate answer. “She’s so secretive about her life down there.”

  I thought back to Mrs. Emerson’s dinner speech—so congratulatory of her other children’s accomplishments while barely mentioning Kate. Maybe it hadn’t been a cruel oversight; maybe she genuinely didn’t know what Kate did in Curaçao.

  “She’s good,” I said.

  Mrs. Emerson patted the top of my hand. “I’m glad she has someone. I worry about her, you know, down there all on her own. But you being here has helped put my mind at ease.”

  I swallowed hard. Did Kate’s mom think we were dating? I could have corrected her, but I didn’t have the heart.

  “She, uh, I think she’s got it figured out. She seems really happy.” I cleared my throat. “We’re really happy.”

  Mrs. Emerson clasped my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Mercy.”

  I exhaled as I pushed through the door that separated the kitchen from the dining area. I bumped into a solid figure as I exited, having not seen them because of the windowless door.

  My apology came out of my mouth before I could recognize whom I’d run into: “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s my fault.”

  Kate stood on the other side of the door. She looked startled: shell-shocked. “I realized I should have accompanied you so you didn’t have to deal with my mom by yourself.”

  I was too taken aback by her presence to register her excuse for hovering in the hallway. “Did you hear all of that?” I asked.

  Kate nodded.

  “I—.”

  I opened my mouth with a weak excuse. I didn’t get out my thought—not that I’d really settled on what I might say—because Kate’s arm was suddenly around my waist and her free hand was cupping the back of my head. Her lips were on me in the next second: not on my cheek, not on my ear, not on my neck. Her mouth pressed, almost violently, against mine.

  I did what felt natural; I kissed her back. Even far away from the tropical island, she tasted like sunscreen, but in a strangely pleasant way. She deepened the kiss, poking her tongue between my lips, which I gladly accepted into my mouth. Her mouth was tender and soft. Her hands was firm in the small of my back, pinning us together. My hands went to the sides of her face before trailing back to run through her short hair.

  Eventually, I had to pull away. I required oxygen, and somewhere in my brain I registered that Kate’s mom would be coming through the kitchen door at any moment.

  Kate’s hair looked slightly mussed from where my hands had traveled. Her grey-green eyes stared at me, unblinking. “Wanna get out of here?”

  I licked my kiss-swollen lips, still tasting sunscreen on them. “Uh huh.”

  Kate didn’t give me the opportunity to backtrack or second-guess myself. She grabbed onto my wrist and pulled me through the dining hall and back down the long corridor from which we’d originally come. Both of our jackets were stored in the front foyer’s coat closet.

  An acute feeling of guilt hit me as I put on my jacket in the hallway. “Should we say goodbye to your family?”

  “Not if we actually want to leave,” she remarked.

  I sucked in a breath when brisk ocean air hit my face upon opening the front door of Kate’s family home. Kate followed closely behind.

  “Where’d you park?” she asked.

  “Oh, I don’t have a car.”

  “Guess I’m driving again.” Kate produced a key fob from her jacket pockets. A black sedan parked in the circular driveway chirped as the doors automatically unlocked. At least it wasn’t a yellow moped.

  “Whose car?�
�� I asked.

  “It’s a rental. I always get one when I visit so I don’t feel trapped at my parents’ house or beholden to them for a ride.”

  “No driver?” I said, only half joking.

  “My parents gave him the weekend off.”

  I stopped in my tracks.

  “I’m kidding, Mercy,” she chuckled.

  “Well, how am I supposed to know?” I complained.

  “There are no bears in Curaçao and my parents drive their own cars.”

  “Anything else you want to tell me?” I huffed, annoyed to appear so gullible.

  “I’m allergic to shellfish,” she said. “Now get in the car.”

  I blew into my gloved hands while I waited for Kate to brush the light dusting of snow off of the front and back windshields of her rented car. The scent of sunscreen lingered in my nostrils as I watched her. She hustled from one side of the car to the other, using the arm of her wool jacket to clean the side mirrors and to clear off the driver and passenger-side windows. I turned to look in the backseat for an ice scraper, but came up empty.

  A comical look flashed across Kate’s face. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong until I saw her arms fly in the air, her head tipped backwards, and a booted foot appeared on the horizon. There was no sound, but when she disappeared from my view entirely, I knew she’d fallen on the ice.

  I ripped off my seatbelt and jumped out of the passenger seat. I rushed around the front of the car, but not too quickly. The fresh snow had begun to melt, creating a slushy, icy ground covering, and I didn’t want to join Kate on the pavement.

  Kate lay immobile on the ground, eyes closed.

  “All you alright?”

  I heard her shaky exhale. “You tell me.”

  “Are you concussed?”

  “I don’t think so. Just embarrassed.”

  “Do you still want to go?” I asked.

  “More than anything.” She gingerly sat up. She brushed at the back of her head. “I’m not normally this clumsy.”

  “You’re fine,” I assured her. “Walking on ice must be difficult when you’ve gotten used to the beach.”

  “I’ve lost all my hardy New Englander street-cred.”

  She looked so despondent, I couldn’t help my laugh.

  I helped her off the ground and instinctively began to brush the slushy snow from the back of her jacket. I only paused when I realized I’d basically been fondling her backside.

  I cleared my throat loudly. “All good back here,” I announced.

  This time it was Kate who chuckled. “You’re very thorough.”

  I abandoned my task and escaped to the safety of the passenger-side seat. Kate remained outside for a moment longer to finish brushing the snow from the car.

  The driver’s side door opened and Kate threw herself into the her seat. The brief time outside had brought a bright red blush to her normally pale cheeks. She looked so beautiful, I resisted the growing urge to lean across the center console and kiss her again.

  I couldn’t dismiss the unexpected kiss in the hallway at her parents’ house. How could I? The phantom feeling of her lips against mine continued to linger. I wasn’t about to bring up the moment with her though. She didn’t seem to have an issue showing affection; the kiss had only been a thank-you, albeit a thank-you that had rendered me breathless.

  Kate shifted the car into drive and we finally pulled out of her parents’ long driveway.

  A question sat heavy in my mind as we drove through Gloucester and got on the highway. Once it had taken residency among my thoughts, it wouldn’t budge until it had been asked.

  “Why were you in my neighborhood liquor store?”

  Kate rubbed at the back of her neck. “You’re gonna get mad at me.”

  “I’m feeling the holiday spirit,” I said brightly. “I promise whatever it is, I won’t get mad.”

  “I wanted to see you,” she breathed out. She let the admission hang in the air for a long moment before continuing. “I overslept the morning you left Curaçao. I was totally planning on seeing you off, but I set my alarm for p.m. instead of a.m. By the time I woke up on my own, you were probably somewhere over the Carolinas.”

  “But how did you find me?”

  A basic internet search would have likely found my teaching profile at my middle school, but that didn’t account for how she’d turned up in my neighborhood liquor store. I lived in a different part of town than where I worked.

  “My buddy at the resort gift shop was able to get your address because you used your credit card there. I knew where you lived, but I didn’t know how to casually bump into you without it looking like I was stalking you.”

  “But you were stalking me,” I gently accused.

  Kate was nonplussed. “I prefer the word observing. And when I observed you going into the liquor store yesterday, I took my chance. I hoped you’d be too surprised to call me out on it.”

  “I was so mad about work,” I recalled, “I don’t think I was in the right mindset to even think to ask how you’d found me.”

  “That’s right—tell me more about your school stuff.”

  “You don’t have to be polite.”

  “I’m actually curious. Tell me,” she implored.

  I sighed, long and loud. “My school has always faced budget issues. Most schools do unless they’re private or out in the suburbs. And enrollment in our school has been dropping since the recession.”

  “And you get state funding based on how many students attend, right?” Kate remarked.

  I nodded even though her eyes were on the road and not me.

  “We’ve been managing the past few years. Tightening our belts—as my principal is fond of saying. No salary increases and higher expectations that we buy our own supplies for the classroom.”

  “Geez,” Kate muttered.

  “And to make matters worse, the boiler broke and had to be replaced over winter break. That’s not the kind of thing you budget for.”

  “Can a public school really close down?” she posed.

  “It happens a lot, actually. The students get taken in by another school, hopefully close enough to their homes so it doesn’t create too much of a hardship for the families.”

  “And about the teachers?” Kate asked. “Will you get a job at one of those schools?”

  I chewed my lower lip. “Maybe. Maybe not. So many other schools are in a similar position, so they’ve instituted hiring freezes.”

  Kate reached across the center console and sought out my hand. Our gloved fingers intertwined and she gave me a sympathetic squeeze. I was grateful she didn’t apologize or try to strategize a way to save the school. I’d nearly become resolved since hearing Grace’s news that this was inevitable. It was enough that she’d asked the question and had heard me out.

  I also didn’t complain when she didn’t let go of my hand. Our fingers remained clasped in my lap as we drove across the bridge into the city.

  CHAPTER Fourteen

  Copley Square, named for the famous colonial-era painter, was located in Boston’s Back Bay neighborhood. It also played host to the city’s annual New Years Eve celebration. It was cold that night and the Boston public park was densely populated. The air was filled with the scent of fried food piping from the various food trucks stationed around the city park. Most people had congregated around a large elevated stage located at one edge of the park where local bands entertained the crowd. The real draw, however, was the Enchanted Forest of ice sculptures, scattered around the open space. Artists had fashioned giant blocks of ice into elaborate sculptures that by nightfall were backlit with LED lights.

  Kate led the way, holding my hand to weave through people when the crowds became congested, but dropped it once we were no longer in a busy spot. I knew she was doing it to make sure we wouldn’t get separated, but I found myself missing the contact. I had silently marveled at Kate’s ease and familiarity with the city. I’d lived in Boston for some time, but still frequently c
onsulted my phone’s GPS when trying to navigate downtown.

  Despite having had dinner just a short while earlier, we sat on a bench and filled up on freshly made donuts served in a wax-paper bag from one of the vendors. The hot treat covered the tips of my fingers with cinnamon and sugar. I caught her staring when I licked the crumbs from my fingertips. It felt as though her kiss in the hallway outside of her parents’ kitchen had ignited something in both of us. The sex on Curaçao had been brief and hasty and almost impersonal. It had been easy to pretend during the daylight hours that nothing had happened between us at night. But I wasn’t so confident that I would be able to dismiss her kiss as easily.

  “How are you enjoying the rest of your winter break?” Kate asked.

  I made a noncommittal noise as I finished chewing a mini donut. “It was a bit of a bummer to come back from a tropical island,” I couldn’t help admitting. “Makes the snow a little more …” I searched for the right word. “Bracing.”

  “All the more reason to move to Curaçao,” she noted with a smile.

  “Right,” I said, not taking her suggestion seriously. “How long are you in town for?”

  “I’m not sure. I book a one-way flight, and when my family becomes a little too much, I head back to the island.”

  She’d admitted something to me on the car ride over, and I couldn’t get it out of my head.

  “You really looked up where I lived?”

  “It wasn’t that hard,” she claimed.

  “Why?” I couldn’t help ask.

  “Why not?”

  Her immediate response was less forthcoming or illuminating than I’d hoped.

  “We had fun on the island, so I figured we’d probably have fun here, too. I really only know my family in town anymore. I’m pretty much off the grid in Curaçao, and I lost track of my old friends.”

  “I don’t keep in touch with many friends from home either,” I admitted.

  “No?”

  I shook my head. “We grew up together, but we don’t have much in common anymore. Different experiences, different beliefs and ideals.”