Surfside Sisters

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Surfside Sisters Page 7

by Nancy Thayer


  The Maxwells were in Scandinavia. Sometimes Keely hung out with girlfriends, going to the beach on Sunday, a movie on Saturday night. She loved them all, but she couldn’t share her fiction with them. It was intimate, private.

  Occasionally over the summer, Keely saw Tommy in the distance. He worked for his father’s accounting office and went out on the family’s boat when he found time. Keely knew this, as if by osmosis, just as everyone who lived on the island or at least went to school there knew what everyone else was doing.

  She never heard from Sebastian. It was as if he’d never sent her that first romantic email. But she couldn’t bring herself to delete it.

  Keely sat looking out the café window, tapping her fingers against her coffee cup. She’d taken off work at the UMass shop to meet Isabelle. She wasn’t amused that Isabelle wasn’t here yet. Keely had been afraid of this, that college life would cause a breach between them.

  Then Isabelle raced in, out of breath. “Sorry I’m late!”

  “It’s fine,” Keely replied. “I got you an iced mocha cappuccino.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Isabelle slid onto the bench across from Keely. “So. Tell me. How do you like it so far?”

  Keely leaned back in her chair, squinting at Isabelle. “You look much too happy. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. First, tell me how you like UMass.”

  “It’s great. Why are you glowing? You can’t like Smith that much.”

  “I love Smith! I adore it here. I love being a college girl, excuse me, woman. I love being away from my parents. I love being off the island, driving anywhere I want whenever I want. I love my teachers, my courses, I even love my homework!”

  Keely studied Isabelle. Izzy had chopped off her beautiful blond hair in a kind of ersatz crew cut. It had been only two months since they’d started their college classes, but Isabelle looked so different. She was absolutely radiant.

  Only one thing could make Isabelle look so happy.

  “You’re seeing Tommy,” Keely said.

  Isabelle flushed scarlet. “How did you know?”

  “Oh. My. God. You’re sleeping with Tommy!”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘sleeping’ exactly,” Isabelle joked and looked very pleased with herself.

  “Tell me everything.”

  “Okay. You know he’s at UMass, too.”

  “Yeah, but I never see him. There are, what, twenty thousand students.”

  “I friended him on Facebook, and he IM’d me, wanting to see me. That was three weeks ago. We’ve been with each other every minute except when we’re in class.”

  “At last! I’m so happy for you, Isabelle.”

  “Thanks! Keely, he says the sweetest things. And his kisses—”

  I’m going to be a spinster, Keely thought as she listened to Isabelle recount every moment of her time with Tommy. I’m going to get a cat and live alone in someone’s attic and spend my life reading and writing novels.

  Actually, she thought, that didn’t sound like a bad life at all.

  “…he told his parents about us and they’ve invited me and my entire family to Thanksgiving dinner at their house, and Sebastian is invited with his girlfriend, but Sebastian’s going to Sweden for Christmas…”

  Great, Keely thought. Sebastian would spend Christmas with his gorgeous artistic Swedish girlfriend, eating lutefisk and drinking aquavit.

  “…and I told my parents, and they’re so happy for me. I mean, I know Tommy and I are only eighteen, and we’ve got four years of college to slog through, but we’re so much in love I know we’ll stay together even after college.”

  “Lucky for you Smith and UMass are about three inches apart,” Keely joked. “You’ll have to spend sooo much time traveling to see each other.”

  “Listen, Keely. I still want to write novels, and I am serious about getting a good education, and I’ve told Tommy this and he totally understands. But he’s not into studying as much as I am. He’s an action guy. He’s really all about getting out on the ocean, having a deep-water fishing business, but his father’s pressuring him to get a college degree, so he is.”

  Keely nodded, listening. Isabelle couldn’t talk fast enough. Keely had never seen her quite like this. She wouldn’t be surprised to see Isabelle spin right up to the ceiling.

  “Sorry sorry,” Isabelle said after a while. “I’m hogging the conversation. Tell me about you. Do you like your classes? Do you like your dorm? Have you met any cool guys? Gone to any insane parties?”

  Keely held her hands up in a “stop” sign. “Whoa, Isabelle, slow down. You act like you’re on speed.”

  “I feel like I’m on speed. And look, I haven’t drunk a sip of coffee!” Isabelle held up her glass as evidence. “Sorry. Seriously, I want to know how you are.”

  “I’m good. I like all my classes except physics, which seems invented by a committee of asylum inmates.”

  “Ha!” Isabelle laughed. “Keely, you’re so funny! I’ll have to tell that to Tommy. He’s good with physics, but I hate it, too.”

  And Isabelle was off again, confiding Tommy’s every phobia or preference, why he didn’t like sugar in his coffee, how he had seven shirts exactly alike because that saved him from thinking about what to wear, his favorite beer—of course Whale’s Tale Pale Ale—his favorite food—Mexican.

  “Who’s his favorite superhero?” Keely teased.

  “Oh, Superman, for sure.”

  Keely couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.

  Isabelle went quiet. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? I don’t even care! I love that I know Tommy chooses Superman. I love knowing everything about him! I love knowing what kind of toilet paper—”

  “Stop right there. I refuse to listen to a Smith College student, a woman attending the same college Sylvia Plath attended, talk about her boyfriend’s toilet paper.”

  “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been dying to share this with you, Keely. I didn’t want to email or text you about it. It’s too important for that. It’s too huge! And you’re always working or in class, so it’s hard to talk to you.”

  “It’s fine. I’m truly happy for you, Isabelle. I hope this lasts.”

  “Why wouldn’t it last? Don’t you think Tommy can be faithful—”

  “Whoa! I never said that. I meant I hope you can have everything you want without any problems. I mean, like, you can’t write while you’re spending all your free time with Tommy.”

  “I know. You’re right. I know I’m on a high right now. I know this mad crazy rapture phase can’t last, but I’m sure our love will last. And I’m not stressing about writing now. I mean, my classes are really challenging. I have to work hard to keep up. Everyone is so much smarter than I am. So my life is basically two parts: school and Tommy.” Isabelle stopped to catch her breath.

  “Very cool, Isabelle. Seriously.”

  “So what about you? Have you met anyone special?”

  “Guys are everywhere.” Keely shrugged. “I’m not in the mood for dating, really.”

  “Because you’re in love with Sebastian?”

  Keely dropped her eyes to her coffee cup. “I never told you I was in love with Sebastian.”

  “You never had to. I am your best friend.”

  “And Sebastian’s sister.”

  “What, you think Sebastian and I sit around talking about love and feelings? I’ve never told him how you feel about him.”

  “I’ve never told you how I feel about him!” Keely snapped.

  “I know. But I’ve got eyes. The way you stare at him says it all.”

  “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

  “Stop it. I don’t mean everyone understands you. I get it because I’m your best friend. And I wish you would talk to me about it, about Sebastian. I’ve seen
the way he looks at you, too, you know.”

  Keely’s heart ballooned with hope. “How does he look at me?”

  “Not like you look at him. He’s a guy. Plus, he’s older. But his eyes go all soft when he sees you. When he sees you, he smiles.”

  Keely met Isabelle’s eyes. “He sent me an email when he first started college. He told me I’m beautiful.”

  “Wow.”

  “I emailed him back. But his next emails were short, like duty messages.”

  “It was his first year in college. A lot of people get overwhelmed during their first year.”

  Keely shook her head. “It wasn’t college. It was women. It was Ebba.”

  “I know. She’s so gorgeous. Tall, blond, with those kind of slivers of ice blue eyes. And she’s kind of mysterious.”

  Keely held her hand up like a “stop” sign again. “That’s enough.”

  “I’m sorry, Keely. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think it will last.”

  “Isabelle! It’s lasted two years. He’s going to Sweden for Christmas. He’s bringing Ebba home for Thanksgiving! I think it’s pretty serious.”

  “Oh, who cares, it’s only Sebastian. You’re way too cool for Sebastian.”

  Keely allowed herself a sardonic grin. “It seems I’m way too cool for anyone.”

  “You were smart not to have sex with anyone in high school,” Isabelle said. “Just think, if you hadn’t been so obsessed with your grades, you couldn’t have gotten the scholarship. If you’d been all dreamy about some guy, you might not have even applied to college.”

  “I know,” Keely agreed. “You’re right.”

  “You’ll fall in love when you’re here,” Isabelle predicted. “Just wait and see.”

  * * *

  —

  Keely fell in love, but not with a guy.

  During her sophomore year at UMass, Keely took creative writing classes from Uma Fairside, who looked like a pre-Raphaelite heroine with her long, wavy red hair and her floaty, loose dresses. Uma Fairside had had two novels published to fine literary acceptance. She was encouraging to Keely, but she was encouraging to all her students.

  The day before the spring semester ended, Uma handed Keely a short story she’d carefully critiqued. Clipped to it was a brief note on her teacher’s pale blush cards.

  See me after class.

  Keely’s heart jumped a bit, but she reminded herself to stay cool. So many students at this college were writing brilliant books. Keely wouldn’t allow herself to hope for anything.

  But by the time class was over and Keely gathered her notebooks and approached the front of the classroom, her heart was racing.

  Today Uma wore what looked like a light summer quilt with holes in it for her neck and arms. It rippled fluidly as Uma came around her desk and smiled at Keely.

  “Keely. I like your fiction. I believe you are the real thing. A writer.”

  “Oh.” Keely went numb all over with shock.

  “I have an idea.”

  “Okay…”

  “Have you heard of the Berkshire Writers’ Colony?”

  “Yes…”

  “They have a three-year MFA program connected to UMass Amherst. Students receive intensive one-on-one tutorials on their writing—plays, poetry, novels, whatever. Of all my students, you show the most promise by far. I advise you to apply.”

  Keely felt her entire body flush with heat. “Oh. Well—thank you.” When Uma didn’t say anything else, Keely took a deep breath and added, “The thing is, I don’t have the money for grad school.”

  Uma shrugged. “That’s not unusual. If you really want to go, you could get a full fellowship. I would give you a reference.” She smiled. “And they like me there.”

  Keely flushed again. “That’s—that’s wonderful.”

  “Good. So here’s what you should be doing now. Get The Norton Anthology of Short Fiction. You don’t have to buy it, get it from the library. For the next two years, polish up some short stories. Send them out everywhere. I can give you a list of literary magazines. That should be your focus from now until senior year when you’ll apply to the workshop. You need to get a couple of short stories published, something to prove other people have read your stuff and like it.”

  Keely nodded her head eagerly. “I’ll do that.”

  “Sign up for this course for both semesters next year. I want to work with you.”

  “I will. I’ll do it all. I’m so honored.” Keely’s voice trembled with emotion. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  —

  Was this when Keely broke her bond with Isabelle?

  She knew Isabelle wanted to be a published writer, too, but Keely didn’t tell her about the workshop.

  Keely didn’t allow herself to feel guilty. That summer, Isabelle went with her parents to British Columbia. If Isabelle wanted to write, she certainly had time to, Keely reasoned. The little gnat of envy that had irritated her for years whenever she compared her hardworking life to Isabelle’s easy one began to hum in her heart. Keely mentally swatted it away. Keely had this, the chance to be a real writer.

  Sebastian graduated from Amherst and went to live in Sweden with Ebba.

  Keely cleaned houses. She sang while she cleaned. She awoke at five in the morning, drank huge cups of coffee, and wrote for two hours before she started work.

  Tommy was on the island, too. Sometimes she ran into him at beach parties on the weekends. They smiled, talked about the latest news from Isabelle, and politely wandered off to talk with someone else.

  Keely wrote and wrote. She sent short stories off to magazines and every kind of fiction website. Often she received only a brief, polite refusal. One or two editors took the time to write a personal note, telling her to keep writing.

  At the end of August, storyshot accepted one of her stories.

  * * *

  —

  That October, Isabelle and Keely managed to steal an hour from classes to meet for coffee. Isabelle seemed more mature to Keely, which only made sense. They were juniors. Twenty-one years old. They had island friends who had two children by now.

  As soon as they found a table in the corner, they sat, each of them with a coffee, and one plate between them with a gigantic cinnamon roll to split.

  “How are you?” Keely asked.

  “I’m mad at you.”

  “What have I done now?” Keely demanded.

  “You had a story published in storyshot and you didn’t tell me.”

  “I didn’t think you’d care. You’ve been traveling everywhere.”

  “I do care! Of course I care. And P.S., I’m jealous!” Isabelle pouted.

  Keely grinned. She knew Isabelle was only half-kidding. “You could have been writing last summer, too.”

  Isabelle sank her chin in her hand. “I know. I’ve got to stop taking these summer trips with my parents. It’s not fun anymore.”

  “Poor you.”

  Isabelle shook it off. “We’re juniors now!” Isabelle changed the subject. “So did Tommy cheat on me this summer?”

  “How would I know? I scarcely saw him.”

  “But you would have heard rumors.”

  Keely put a hand on her textbook and her right hand in the air, shoulder height. “I swear I heard nothing about Tommy being unfaithful.” She laughed. “Izzy, you know I would have killed him for you if I’d heard something like that.”

  Isabelle got a faraway look in her eye. “We’re getting so old. I’ve been thinking I should break up with Tommy so he can date other women. That way when we graduate and move back to the island, he won’t be bored with me and he’ll want to marry me.”

  “Whoa. Twisted logic! Why would you even consider something like that?”

  “Because I know Tommy. He likes to play a
round. He likes seducing women.” Isabelle gave a frank, exasperated look at Keely. “I’m not stupid, Keely. I know what Tommy’s like.”

  “And you want to marry him anyway?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “You believe he’ll be faithful when you’re married?”

  “Actually, yes. I think he’ll have used up all his bad boy juju.”

  Keely sighed and leaned back in her chair. “What about you? What about your writing? Do you still even want to be a writer?”

  “Of course I do! But I know it can’t happen instantaneously. I know I’ve got work to do. I’m not looking for a limo and fame. Weren’t we silly when we were little girls? We knew nothing. But I do want to write. I’m making notes for a novel.”

  “Gosh, when do you have time? You’ve got school and Tommy.”

  “I’m not saying I’m writing. I’m saying I’m keeping notes. And I truly am jealous that you’re getting a short story published. But in just one minute, you’ll be jealous of me.”

  Keely snorted. “Isabelle, I’m always jealous of you.”

  Isabelle ignored that. Leaning forward, she said, “I’m signed up for a class with Eleanor Shreves.”

  “Eleanor Shreves?” Keely forced a smile, but her heart was sinking into her shoes. Eleanor Shreves was an important writer. She’d published at least six novels, and one of them was being made into a movie. If Keely even saw Eleanor Shreves, she would fall to her knees in awe. “How…?”

  “She’s agreed to teach a couple of writing classes this year. If we were interested, we had to submit a short story. She chose fifteen students—and I was one!”

  “Oh, Isabelle, how wonderful! I am so jealous!”

  “Good!,” Isabelle said, laughing.

  * * *

  —

  In March, right when the weather flirted with spring, Keely sat in her room at the dorm, hunched over her laptop, when her cell buzzed, interrupting her thoughts.

  It was her mother. “Hi, Mom!”

 

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