Good Harbor

by Anita Diamant

  “Not that you’re in the least bit prejudiced,” Hal said.

  They walked into the kitchen just as Buddy arrived, carrying two bags of groceries.

  “Surprise!” he said, beaming.

  “You knew? You sneak.”

  “I got tuna steaks to grill.” He deposited a six-pack of beer on the counter.

  They settled on the deck while Buddy started the fire and Hal tried to get Kathleen to talk about her treatment.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m in and out so fast. The girls, the techs, are nice kids. The best thing is that it’s almost over.”

  “No side effects?”

  “Not really.”

  Buddy frowned at her.

  “What? Oh, my fatigue? Yes, I’m tired, but that will pass.”

  Kathleen could tell that Hal didn’t quite buy her version of the summer, and she walked into the kitchen to fetch place mats and napkins.

  When she returned to the deck, Hal was telling Buddy about work.

  “It’s fine,” said Hal. “I’m making great money, but . . .”

  “Great money is great,” said Buddy.

  “But what?” asked Kathleen.

  “It’s just a job.” Hal shrugged. “I’m not interested in what I do all day, and when I go home, I have nothing to talk about.”

  “So you’re thinking about making a change?” Buddy asked.

  “Change is in the air in my house.” Hal proceeded with news about his many roommates: Tom, the cycling nut, had bought an insanely expensive bike and entered a big race; Ruthie, the nursing student, had decided to specialize in pediatric oncology; Leona was burned-out from teaching city kids and was looking for a job in the suburbs.

  “And what about Josh?” Kathleen asked. Josh had been Hal’s roommate at Michigan and had moved to California with him.

  “I was saving this for last. Josh is getting married.”

  “Married?” Buddy asked.

  “Yup.”

  “To whom?” Kathleen asked.

  “Sarah Bley.”

  “Do we know her?”

  “You met her last time you were out. She’s the big blonde from Los Angeles.”

  “The one who was visiting Ruthie?” Buddy asked.

  “Yeah. That’s when they met.”

  Buddy raised his eyebrows at Kathleen, and she realized Buddy had also guessed that Josh and Hal were lovers.

  After dinner, Hal pulled a thin bottle from the refrigerator. “My newest discovery. Dessert wine.” He poured the gold-colored liquor and Kathleen wet her lips. “It’s sweet!” she said. “I love it.”

  “I knew you would. And I brought you a few books I think you’ll like.”

  “I’m sure I will,” she said, beaming. Hal may look like Buddy, she thought, but he took after her in temperament and interests.

  As Buddy started on the dishes, Hal suggested a walk, and he and Kathleen set out down the block.

  Kathleen told Hal about Joyce, and how much she wanted them to meet. “She’s been so great through all this.”

  It was the first time she had volunteered any information about her illness or treatment to Hal. “Your father has been wonderful, too,” she added quickly.

  “I know. But some things are easier to talk to friends about.”

  “I suppose,” she said, wishing it weren’t quite so true, wishing she could ask Hal about his life in a way that wouldn’t seem like prying. Instead she said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too.”

  They stopped at the spot overlooking the water, between the Craddocks’ and the Longs’ houses. Kathleen realized it was the same spot where she had stood early in the morning before her first appointment with Dr. Truman. That felt like years ago, but it had been only fifteen weeks.

  Hal watched his mother’s face as she counted the weeks. “Mom, I think you’re depressed.”

  Kathleen patted his arm.

  “I mean clinically. I think you should see someone.”

  “Oh, Hal, it’s not that bad.”

  “No, really. It’s important. It’s all connected to what’s going on with you physically. I go.”

  “You go where?”

  “To see a therapist. It’s been very good for me.”

  Kathleen stared.

  “Mom? You knew about the therapy, didn’t you?”

  “Why would I know?”

  “Well, I assumed Dad told you.”

  “He didn’t say anything to me.” She didn’t know anything about her son anymore. Or about her husband.

  “It’s helped me work out a lot of issues, not only about work, but about, you know, the family and” — he paused, choosing his words — “how, uh, losing someone sets you apart, especially as a child.”

  Kathleen said nothing.

  “Mom?”

  She was stunned, not so much by Hal’s revelation, but by the sudden rush of shame it called up in her. What had he told his therapist? Why was her grandmother’s disapproving voice so loud inside her head? And how could she begin to talk to him about Danny now? They had never had a real conversation about what had happened. Hal was still hurting. And she was still unable to comfort him.

  “Mom?”

  “Hal, I need to go back. I’m tired. And no more medical advice from you. Please.”

  Hal lowered his head — just the way Buddy did when he was angry — and turned back, starting at a pace that was a little too fast for her. He relented after a few steps, and she took his arm, squeezing it gratefully.

  “Nice walk?” Buddy asked as they walked into the kitchen. Hal made a beeline for the bathroom.

  “Lovely,” said Kathleen.

  When Hal returned, he and Buddy squabbled over who would drive Kathleen to the clinic in the morning, but she settled it quickly; it was her time with Buddy. The last thing she wanted was for Hal to discuss her weight or state of mind with Marcy. Hal insisted on taking his mother to lunch afterward. “My pleasure,” Kathleen agreed.

  In the car the next morning, Buddy seemed to choose his words carefully. “Well, what do you know about Josh, huh? Hal’s going to be best man. He says we’re going to be invited.”

  Kathleen struggled hard against the rising terror she felt as the car climbed the bridge. She sighed, trying to disguise her labored breathing. Thank heaven Buddy always kept his eyes on the road.

  Once they reached the mainland, Buddy asked again. “So what do you think about Josh’s news?”

  “I thought he might be gay,” Kathleen said softly. “And you did, too, didn’t you?”

  Now it was Buddy’s turn to be silent. He signaled and pulled into the passing lane before answering. “Yes.”

  “We never talked about it,” Kathleen said, sounding a little angrier than she intended. And now we don’t have to, she thought.

  “It was okay with me,” said Buddy.

  “What?”

  “It took me a long time to get used to the idea, but I would have told him that it was all right. That he was my son. That I loved him. Hell, I love Josh, too.” Buddy let out a hoarse laugh. “I love Josh even more now!”

  Kathleen tried to smile.

  “You thought I’d be some kind of Neanderthal about it, didn’t you?” he said, eyes straight ahead.

  “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

  “You should know. For crying out loud, Kathleen! After all this time, you should know.”

  “I’m sorry, Buddy.” She squeezed her eyes closed, shutting out the kaleidoscope of passing cars and rushing trees, trying to hold on through the panic.

  He glanced over. “It’s okay, Kath. You just take it easy. It’s only four more days and we’re done, right?”

  She nodded and stared at the door handle. Four more days. She counted them out as they drove the rest of the way: today, tomorrow, Monday, and Tuesday.

  On the way home, she changed the mantra: tomorrow and Monday and Tuesday. And then it would be Au
gust 8.

  LIKE KATHLEEN, Joyce had fallen asleep after their walk in the heat. She’d collapsed on Nina’s bed and woke at sunset, disoriented, hungry, and crazy to see Patrick. He was gone on another three-day run, to northern Maine this time. And then it would be the weekend, so there was no chance of seeing him for five days.

  He never called on Saturday or Sunday. On the morning they’d met, Joyce had made it sound as if Frank spent weekends in Gloucester, and she’d never got around to correcting the story. After all, there was the possibility that Frank might actually appear some weekend.

  And what would that be like? she wondered as she walked through the house, cranking the windows all the way open. Would one look at his familiar face make her comprehend the terrible error of her wanton ways? She knew that Patrick was just a fling, or at least, she knew it in her head. Her body was a different story. Joyce was unsure about her heart; she was in lust, in longing, in heat, even. In love? Maybe a little. Oh, definitely a little. But probably not enough to do anything drastic — Patrick had certainly not given any indication of wanting anything more from her than their afternoons. “My lifeline,” he called her. “The cure for loneliness.”

  “I suppose I could say the same for him,” Joyce murmured, then opened the refrigerator and groaned. “I can’t face a bowl of cereal,” she announced to the empty kitchen.

  The air, heavy and still, absorbed the sound of her voice like a sponge. She grabbed car keys and considered the options as she started the car: she could go to the supermarket and take out a healthy meal or get a slice of pizza down the street.

  She drove past the pizzeria and the Star Market and found herself on the road to Rockport. The scene of my crime, she thought. She would buy an ice cream cone and sit out on Bear Skin Neck. On a night like this, the tourist strip on the little peninsula by the harbor would be great for people-watching. Besides, she needed a few more postcards for Nina.

  But as she pulled into town, Joyce decided she’d rather have a tuna sandwich. As she passed the sub shop looking for a parking spot, she saw that the lights were on upstairs, in Patrick’s room. A shadow moved behind the shade. Her mouth went dry. It took her five minutes to find parking, a dozen blocks away. She counted them, hands in her pockets, head down, walking as fast as she could.

  From a bench across the street, Joyce sat and watched Patrick pace. His gait, his profile, his hold on the cigarette. He was on the telephone.

  But there was no phone in his apartment. He couldn’t afford a cell phone. He called her from the pay phone downstairs.

  He was lying to her.

  And she was lying to everyone in her life.

  Maybe the job had fallen through. Maybe he was just talking to his business partner. Maybe he was talking to his mother, in Ireland. Maybe he was sweet-talking another woman.

  But where did the phone come from? And why hadn’t he called her?

  Don’t ask him, Joyce, she drilled herself. Don’t ever ask.

  He lit another cigarette, his back to the window.

  She stared until her eyes ached. Leave, she told herself. Leave now. Finally, she took her own advice and drove home.

  The streetlight on the corner had burned out, and she’d forgotten to turn on the porch light. The Madonna was deep in shadow, but Joyce saw something moving behind it. That’s way too big to be a raccoon, she thought.

  “Mrs. Lupo?” Joyce said softly.

  There was no answer.

  “Mrs. Lupo, it’s okay.”

  A tiny, white-haired woman hurried out of the yard up the street.

  “Theresa?” Joyce called, and then stopped. What could she say to Theresa Lupo? The adulteress and the acolyte. Sounds like a romance novel, she thought, or an X-rated movie.

  The phone rang as she walked into the house. Sure it was Frank, she listened as the machine picked up. There was a long pause and a hang-up. Frank would never do that.

  Maybe it was Patrick. Maybe he wanted her to come to him.

  “Shit,” she screamed. The sound in the empty house shocked her.

  The phone rang again and she lunged at it.

  “Joyce!” Kathleen said. “I hope it’s not too late to call. Would you mind including an extra person on the beach tomorrow? I’d like you to meet my son Hal.”

  KATHLEEN TRIED HARD to appear calm. She tucked her hands under her thighs, breathed slowly, and kept her eyes on Hal’s face as he drove her to lunch. Thank goodness the trip was short, she thought, getting out of the car, and thank goodness he hadn’t noticed anything.

  “Look at this place,” Hal said as they walked into Traveler’s. “Hanging plants? I’ll bet they serve raspberry iced tea. You sure this is still Gloucester?”

  “Don’t be such a snob.”

  “I just don’t want it to get glitzy.”

  “Don’t worry. There was a good little French restaurant down the street that folded after a few months. But all the bars are doing fine.”

  As they sat down, she heard a voice behind them: “Mrs. Levine?”

  Kathleen turned to see the rabbi getting up from another table.

  “Hello, Rabbi Hertz. Let me introduce my son Hal. He surprised me by showing up from San Francisco last night.”

  Hal stood up to shake her hand. “How long have you been the rabbi?”

  “I started in the fall.”

  “How do you like it here?”

  “It’s a great community. People have been very welcoming.”

  “Really?” Hal asked. “It used to be kind of a tough place for newcomers.”

  “Well, so far so good,” she said, smiling.

  Hal smiled back. “Do you do a Torah study session on Saturday morning? I’ve been going lately. Not services so much, but the study sessions before.”

  “You have?” said Kathleen.

  “It was Josh’s doing. Josh and Sarah,” Hal said to his mother, then explained to the rabbi, “That’s my roommate and his fiancée. Sarah isn’t Jewish, but the two of them took an Introduction to Judaism class together. I went with them once because they were raving about one of the rabbis who taught there. Now I go to her shul, sometimes.”

  Michelle Hertz, it turned out, knew the California rabbi, who had been two years ahead of her in school. “Did Debra ever cut her hair?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Wow. We used to call her ‘Cousin It,’ and that was years ago.”

  “Behind her back, I hope,” Hal said.

  They laughed as Kathleen looked on. There was a pause in the conversation.

  “San Francisco is almost as beautiful as Gloucester,” Michelle said finally.

  “Yeah,” Hal agreed. “I’ve been there for nearly six years. At first, I thought I’d stay, but the fact that I never got rid of my winter clothes was probably a sign. It’s a drag being so far away from your family, and since my mom’s, um, well, I’m thinking about coming back East.”

  “You are?” Kathleen said.

  “I was going to talk to you about it over lunch.”

  “I’d better let you two catch up,” Michelle said. “And we do have a Torah discussion group on Saturday morning. Nine o’clock. I’d love it if you could come. Both of you.”

  Kathleen watched Hal’s eyes follow Michelle out the door. When he turned back to her, she waited for him to say something and finally asked, “Are you really moving home?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, actually. The Bay Area is way too expensive. Josh and Sarah will probably move to L.A. Besides, I thought you’d want me near you,” he teased.

  “Nothing would make me happier.”

  Hal squeezed her hand. “Can I get a good fish sandwich here?”

  During lunch he entertained her with details of Josh and Sarah’s wedding plans. Then he asked how she’d met Joyce. Kathleen recalled the scene, and Hal smiled. “At temple, eh? Aren’t we all becoming frimme yidden.”

  “Translation, please?”

  “It’s Yiddish for ‘religious Jews.�
��”

  “Do you go to temple every week?”

  “Almost. I like the Torah study. I like knowing that at least once a week I’ll have a conversation that’s about something important.”

  “Like about God?”

  “Sometimes God. Not always. Sometimes ethics, sometimes politics, sometimes family dynamics. It depends who shows up that Saturday — and on the parashah, the portion for the week, you know.”

  “I know what a parashah is,” Kathleen said. “I was there for your bar mitzvah, if you remember.”

  “Yes, you were.” Hal kissed her hand. “And I appreciate it.” After they ordered he said, “When we’re done here, I’ll drive you over to Good Harbor, but I wonder if you’d mind my just saying hello to Joyce and then maybe she could drive you home? I have something I need to do.”

  “Sounds like you’re not going to tell me why, right?”

  “You’ll know everything soon enough,” he said, hinting at big news. “Just not today.”

  When they arrived at the beach, Hal and Kathleen leaned on the hood of the car and shared the view until Joyce arrived.

  “Here he is,” Kathleen said triumphantly.

  Kathleen watched as Hal and Joyce exchanged hellos and sized each other up. Then Hal kissed his mother on the cheek, made a formal little bow to Joyce, and left.

  “Wow,” Joyce said. “He’s a hunk.”

  “Isn’t he, though?” Kathleen threaded her arm through Joyce’s. The sand burned the soles of their bare feet, so they rushed toward the water’s edge.

  “I have so much to tell you,” Kathleen said, and described Hal’s arrival, what seemed like a flirtation with the rabbi before her very eyes, his announcement about moving East. She let it spill right out . . . like a pile of blessings, she thought, and stopped in mid-sentence.

  Suddenly she was aware of the heat rising from the sand, the heaviness in the air, the sweat trickling down from under her hat-band, the thumping in her chest. The panic from the car had followed her, even here.