by Nancy Thayer
Tommy jumped over the side of his boat and swam to shore, rising up out of the water, the sun sequinning his skin with the drops that dripped off his shoulders.
“Hey, babe!” Tommy walked right up to Keely and hugged her so hard he lifted her off the ground.
“Tommy, put me down. What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You should be in school.”
“Really? You really think I should be in school?” He put his hands on his hips, threw back his head, and laughed.
“Stop it, Tommy. You’re not making any sense!”
Tommy was slightly manic. She’d seen him this way before, in high school. He was a guy who did not like to be caged in.
“I dropped out!” He waved his arms victoriously. “I’m done with college. Done!”
“What are you talking about? You’re a senior! You’re going to graduate next spring.”
“I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand to be in one more class. The only reason I went to college in the first place was that my father insisted I go. He wants me to join him in his accounting firm. I knew it wouldn’t be the place for me. I told him. He’s a stubborn SOB.”
Keely smiled. “You are, too.”
Tommy nodded. “I told him I saved him a year’s tuition, and I know enough about accounting and spreadsheets and all that crap. When it comes to anything on the computer, I’m way ahead of him. I told him I’d stay on the island and work for him during the week, but the weekends are mine.”
“Isabelle didn’t email me about all this.”
“Isabelle doesn’t really know.” Tommy hung his head with pretend guilt. “I told her I was starting school late. Because of flu.”
“You lied to Isabelle.”
“She would fight me tooth and nail on this, Keely, you know she would. She’s just as conventional as my father. College diploma, graduation, respect, blah blah…”
“When are you going to tell her?”
“Maybe tonight.” Tommy brightened. “Or you could tell her!”
Keely snorted. “Yeah, I could tell her and take the first hit of fury, right? You’re a piece of work.”
Tommy grinned wickedly. “I’m a bad, bad boy.”
Keely rolled her eyes, but for a moment she was caught in his bad boy spell. He was six feet four, broad shouldered, slim-hipped. His wet black hair stuck out all over. He hadn’t shaved today. His chest was lightly furred with black hair that narrowed into a line down into his board shorts. He grinned down at her, as if acknowledging her interest.
He said, “If you tell Isabelle today, I’ll treat you to dinner at the Languedoc tonight.”
Keely grinned back. “If you tell Isabelle today, I’ll go to dinner with you tonight.”
It was a challenge, she knew. A dare. But for her, it was also a test. Here Tommy was, handsome, sensual, physical, and flirting with her. So how much did he really love Isabelle? If he was so connected to Isabelle, what was he doing standing on this beach with both of them practically half-naked, giving her a look that stripped off the rest of her clothes and all of her inhibitions? What did Keely owe Isabelle? Would Keely actually choose a little romantic escapade with Tommy over her friendship with Isabelle? Of course not.
On the other hand…Tommy had asked Keely to the homecoming dance years ago. Because of her friendship with Isabelle, Keely had turned him down. How many times was Keely expected to sacrifice for Isabelle?
What would Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell think if Tommy broke up with Isabelle because of Keely?
But Keely wouldn’t sleep with Tommy simply to get some kind of convoluted revenge on the Maxwells.
And why was she even thinking of sleeping with Tommy when all he was doing was asking her to dinner?
Tommy stopped smiling. He dropped his bad boy façade and stood quietly, seriously, looking solemnly into Keely’s eyes. “I’ll call Isabelle today. I’ll tell her I dropped out. I’ll pick you up at your house at seven.”
He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. He waded back into the crystal-clear water and swam back to his boat. After he’d motored off, Keely shoved her kayak off the beach, jumped in, and paddled back to shore. She wanted to go home and sleep. She was hungry. She was thirsty. She was scared.
Deliciously scared.
By the time she returned the kayak, the sun was high in the sky. Keely drove home. Her mother was at work. Keely had no emails or messages from Isabelle. She drank two glasses of Nantucket’s delicious water and ate an apple. She took a long soak in a hot bubble bath. As she dried off, she admired her tan. Nantucket stayed warm, even hot, into the fall, sunlight bronzing her skin.
She positioned herself at her computer, planning to work on a short story, but her mind, her senses, were full of Tommy. She’d had totally forgettable sex twice with a cute guy her freshman year in college. Neither of those experiences had seemed extraordinary, had made her, as Hemingway said, “feel the earth move.” She’d bet Tommy could cause a tsunami.
It was late afternoon when the email came from Isabelle.
Keely! Tommy’s dropped out! He’s on the island now, working for his father and messing around with his damned boat and he’s not coming back to college ever. We had such a fight! He is an idiot! Do you think you could talk sense to him? Because if he doesn’t finish senior year, I’m done with him. I’m done.
Isabelle, take a breath. Why does it matter if Tommy finishes or not? Some of the best people don’t finish their degrees. Like me, ha ha. You can’t break up with Tommy over this. You should at least talk to him.
You’re right. You’re a genius. I’m driving down today. I’ll catch the seven o’clock fast ferry. I’ve called Tommy. He’ll meet me at the boat. I’m sure I can persuade him to change his mind. Thanks! I love you!
Her words hit Keely like a blow to her stomach. She wondered whether Tommy would bother to call her to cancel their date.
Rising from her desk, Keely looked around her bedroom. Her laundry basket was full, her desk was piled with printed drafts of short stories, her windowsill was lined with rocks and shells she’d brought home from the beach, and still, somehow, the world seemed empty. She’d lost her focus. She’d lost her energy. She should be writing now. It was her day off work. She had the time. But she felt—kicked. She felt that Isabelle still, as always, had everything. She needed to get herself back on track. She needed to write.
She lay on her bed, forcing herself to read the newest short story she’d written, and after a few minutes, her mind switched gears and she was thinking critically. This story wasn’t bad. Maybe it was even good. Good enough to send off to some literary reviews.
Was it good enough to use as her writing sample when she sent in her application to the Berkshire Writers’ Colony? The information didn’t state that the applicant had to have a college diploma. She’d had some college. She’d had a few stories published in literary reviews. She knew her writing was more than proficient; it was pleasurable to read.
You’ll never know unless you try. Her father had told her that so many times, when teaching her to surf cast or to pilot the boat through the rough waters between Madaket and Tuckernuck. When she tried out for the princess in the sixth-grade school play—and got the role of the angel, a smaller role but with wings. When she swore she would never be able to understand chess.
Keely proofread her sample short story for the thirtieth time. She put it and her application to the colony in a manila envelope, took it to the post office, and mailed it. She returned home with a smile on her face. She’d done it. She’d tried.
Her cell buzzed. Tommy. She didn’t want to talk to him. She let it go to voicemail. Immediately after, she played it. “Keely, I can’t see you tonight and you know why. I’ll be with Isabelle. Sorry.”
She’d done it again, Keely thought. She should be proud of
herself. She’d stepped away from involvement with Tommy. She was a good friend. The best friend.
After that message, Keely couldn’t return to her fiction. Her mind wouldn’t settle. Restless, she headed into the kitchen and made a complicated casserole that would last herself and her mother for several nights to come.
* * *
—
Three evenings later, as she was driving home from work, her cell buzzed. Keely parked her car in the driveway before checking it.
A message from Isabelle:
I hate him. He’s an imbecile. I did everything I could to change his mind. If he really loved me, he’d stay in school. And I suppose if I really loved him, I’d love him regardless. So it’s good we broke up. Thanks for trying to help. I’m back at Smith now, and I’m going to concentrate on my courses and the hell with men.
As she was stripping off her dirty shorts and T-shirt, her phone buzzed.
“Keely.”
“Tommy.”
“I bet Isabelle has called you.”
“No, but she messaged me. It sounds like she’s not happy with you.”
“She’s not. She told me we’re done. So I think I can take you to dinner, if you’ll still go with me, and I won’t feel guilty and neither will you.”
Her heart did a somersault. She was just about to step off a cliff and she didn’t know how far down she would fall. She didn’t care.
“I’m free tonight,” Keely said.
* * *
—
He took her to Le Languedoc, one of the best restaurants on the island. He parked on Broad Street and as they walked, he reached out and took her hand. Shops were still open in the evening. People—summer people and year-rounders—still strolled the streets. Keely knew Tommy was sending a message to anyone who knew them. She guessed she was sending a message, too.
They had a table in the corner, perfect for intimate conversation. Tommy ordered a good bottle of red wine to share.
“You’ll never save up money for a boat spending that kind of money for wine,” Keely teased.
“Some things are more important than boats,” Tommy told her.
The way he gazed into her eyes made her shiver. Defensive, she asked, “What would Isabelle think of us right now?”
He didn’t sound angry or even mildly concerned. But he didn’t seem to take her question lightly. “I don’t care what Isabelle thinks. Let’s talk about something else.”
He was so intense. She couldn’t speak.
Tommy said, “Okay, ask me ten things you need to know about me.”
“Um, favorite food?”
“Clam chowder. The way I make it.”
Keely nodded. “Favorite music?”
“Everything.”
Keely smiled. “Um, birth date?”
“June tenth.” Tommy took her hand and rubbed his thumb lightly over her palm.
“I can’t think when you’re doing that to my hand,” she told him.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Keely smiled, shaking her head. “You really are terrible.”
Tommy did a lazy-sleepy-sexy thing with his eyes. “I can be really good.”
The waiter arrived. Keely pulled her hand away.
“So did you like college at all?” She was serious.
“It depends on what criteria you’re using to judge,” Tommy said.
“Criteria. Get you with your big word.”
Tommy laughed. “I managed to learn a few things.”
“I’ll bet you did.”
With a shrug, he turned serious. “I admit it. I basically coasted. My grades were awful. My dad’s furious. But I didn’t end up drunk in a trunk or in jail for assault, so he can’t really complain.”
“And women?”
Tommy smiled, his white teeth flashing. “I was with Isabelle. Mostly.” He shrugged. “I thought, if I can’t have fun in college, I’ll never be able to have it.”
“Oh, Tommy, I think you’ll always have fun,” Keely told him, and as she spoke, she felt very affectionate toward him, and not jealous at all of the women he’d slept with, probably a number mounting into the dozens, and mounting was the appropriate word.
“What about you? You dropped out in your junior year.”
“Because I wanted to help my mother.”
“So do you miss college?”
“More than I can say,” Keely answered truthfully.
“Why?”
“I loved my studies. I made all A’s, not that I’m bragging. I loved it there, walking from the dorm to a class. I was high on the atmosphere, the smell of the textbooks, the sound of a pen on paper or someone tapping away on her computer…” She stopped talking, took a sip of wine, and lost herself for a moment in reverie. She had to change course now, or she’d get maudlin.
“You’re weird,” Tommy said.
Keely shrugged. “Probably.” As she ate oysters and pan roasted lobster, she steered the conversation away from anything serious. She asked Tommy about his family, his friends. His new dog. Tommy was funny, charming, magnetic. She relaxed in his spell. The buzz of the wine, the pleasure of this gorgeous, attentive male was a tonic for her wounded spirit. Her entire body flushed every time Tommy looked at her or touched her knee with his beneath the table.
When they left the restaurant, light was fading from the sky.
“Let’s walk down to Easy Street,” Tommy said.
“Sure.”
He took her hand. His hand was so much larger than hers. Easy Street was the short street between the harbor and the Dreamland Theater. Several benches were set along the brick sidewalk so people could watch the ferries come and go. Tonight as they rounded the corner from the theater building, Keely saw that the benches were empty, and Tommy must have, too, because he said her name in a husky voice and put both hands on her waist. He moved her so that her back was against the building. He pressed himself against her.
His kiss was sweet and rough with need. It was lovely to be kissed like this.
“I want to make love to you,” Tommy said, his voice warm against her cheek.
She gently pushed him away. “Not yet. It’s too soon for you—you should wait, be clear about Isabelle. I don’t want to rush into something and then…lose it.”
“Keely, you know I’ve always wanted you. I am clear about Isabelle. She’s always been second best—”
Keely blocked his mouth with her hand. “Don’t you dare say that. If you even hint that what you felt for Isabelle wasn’t true, I’ll never talk to you again. Grow up, Tommy, for God’s sake! You can’t honestly believe I’ll be complimented if you call Isabelle second best.” She stepped away from him. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Tommy folded his arms and leaned against the wall, signaling retreat. “I apologize, Keely. I didn’t mean to insult Isabelle. I loved her. I did love her. Maybe I still do, always will. But I am grown up. I know what I want. I know who I want. And I can be patient.”
Keely relaxed. “Good. I think we have to be patient, Tommy. I don’t want to be your rebound affair.” She smiled. “And I don’t want to have revenge sex with you.”
Tommy grinned wryly. “I’ve heard that revenge sex can be mighty fine.”
She smiled. He reached out and took her hand. “I’ll take you home. I know you have to get up early for work tomorrow.”
“Tommy…could we be friends for a while?”
“Of course, Keely. But remember, a guy can hope.”
* * *
—
Her mother was in the living room, reading. When she saw Keely, she put down her book.
“Did you have a nice time with Tommy?”
Keely dropped into an armchair. “Too nice a time, actually.” Quickly she clarified, “No, I don’t mean what you’re thinking,
I only mean I feel guilty, going out with him so soon after he and Isabelle broke it off.”
Her mother leaned her head back against the sofa, closed her eyes, and sighed. “I knew a Tommy in high school.”
“Um…okay.”
“His name was Fred, but he was every bit as sexy as Tommy.”
“Mom.”
“You’re twenty-two. You can tolerate the fact that I once had sexual feelings.”
“Not really.”
Eloise ignored her. “Honey, there’s a guy like Tommy in every school. It’s like a life-coaching test—can you resist the irresistible?”
Keely thought about that. “So you think I shouldn’t go out with Tommy?”
“No, I’m not saying anything. But you need to think of Isabelle.”
“I think of her. She’s the one who broke it off with Tommy, because he dropped out of college. She texted me about it. Besides, Isabelle and I aren’t as close anymore.”
“That’s natural, I suppose. You’re both growing up. Still, I hope you’ll take it slow with Tommy. For lots of reasons.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get all crazy like a tween. For one thing, I’m too busy.” Keely yawned. “And too tired.”
* * *
—
Keely went to dinner or a movie with Tommy once or twice a week. October was the month a guy like him lived to the max every day. He worked for his father, and whenever he could, he got out on the water. He often presented Keely and her mother with a nice piece of striped bass ready for the grill. Eloise always invited Tommy to stay, to join them for dinner, and while Tommy was out on the deck grilling the fish, Keely set the kitchen table, listening to her mother humming as she stirred butter into the rice.
It was good seeing Tommy this way. They both relaxed. The atmosphere in the house changed, as if Tommy’s low male voice and muscular male presence soothed the very air, as it soothed and pleased Keely and her mother.
Keely emailed Isabelle to tell her she was hanging out with Tommy now and then—interesting, she thought, how choosing the right words could make whatever it was she was up to with Tommy sound so innocent.