by Nancy Thayer
Right now all she wanted to do was to ride the current.
“Do you know what I’m going to do now?” Tommy asked.
Her lips were so swollen she could scarcely speak. “What?”
“I’m taking you to my house.”
“What about your parents?”
Tommy laughed. “I’ve got my own entrance through the back door right into my room on the first floor. My parents sleep upstairs at the front.”
“Oh…” Should she stop to think about what she was going to do?
Could she stop to think?
Tommy took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was a long, slow, honey-sweet kiss, and when he was through, he smiled at Keely, and she saw such emotion in his eyes that she trembled.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Okay.”
* * *
—
She’d never been in Tommy’s house before. A light burned at the back porch. They stepped inside, into darkness. Tommy led her to his room. He didn’t turn on a light, but she could see him and his room in shades of shadow. He tugged her coat off and laid it on a chair. He took off his coat.
He kissed her mouth gently and trailed kisses down her neck and onto her shoulders as he slowly tugged on her dress. She pulled away from him to unzip her dress and undo her bra. He touched her breasts, staring at them as if memorizing them, and then his breath came quicker, and he peeled off his clothes and kicked away his shoes. He moved her to his bed. She was frightened and excited and nervous about all of it, and then he raised himself above her. She wrapped her arms around him, she ran her hand down his back and touched the hollow of his spine. She marveled at such beauty, at the powerful muscles in his back, at the way his breath hitched and how he moaned, and she was so glad to make him happy, to give him pleasure. And for the first time, she enjoyed the experience herself.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” Tommy said afterward, panting next to her on the blanket.
Keely smiled and ran her hand over his chest. It was thick with dark hair and a silver chain lay in the tangled black.
“What is this?” she asked, picking up the small round medallion at the end of the chain.
“It’s St. Peter. The patron saint of fishermen.”
“Why are you wearing it?”
“I told you. That’s what I want to do with my life. I was born next to the sea, and I want to be out on the sea as often as I can.”
“I understand that. It’s like I want to write novels for a living.”
“You and Isabelle, what is it with you two? You live in a fantasy land.”
Keely started to object, then paused. “I suppose we do live in a fantasy land when we’re writing. But cleaning houses is the reality of my life.”
“Yeah, like me working in Dad’s office.”
Keely laughed. “Maybe not exactly like that. I don’t think you have to clean any toilets.”
Tommy growled and roughly rolled Keely over to face him. “I refuse to discuss toilets when I’ve got you in my bed.”
And he kissed her again and again, slowly, from head to toe.
Hey, Isabelle, Happy New Year! I keep leaving voicemail. What ARE you doing?
XO K
Happy New Year, BFF! What am I doing? Taking my final semester at Smith, getting ready to move to the Berkshires for two years where I’ll write the great American novel, and spending every spare moment with Gorgeous Gordon! We’ll talk soon!
XO I
Forgive me for doing it this way, Isabelle, but I haven’t been able to get you on the phone…Isabelle, I’m, um, seeing Tommy. I mean sleeping with him, hanging out with him, the whole deal. I think it’s fine because you’re over Tommy and totally in love with Gorgeous Gordon. Right?
I know you’re graduating in a month. Your mother told me they’re going up for the big celebration. And then you go to the writers’ colony immediately? No stop home?
XO K
Wow, you and Tommy. Really? You know he hit on you to get back at me, don’t you? Tommy and I were together for a long time. He’s having sex with you because he knows it would hurt me. You’d better get away from that guy before you get hurt.
Wow, Isabelle, that so wasn’t what I was expecting you to say. I mean, you’re “spending every spare moment with Gorgeous Gordon!” So you want Gordon but you still want Tommy?
Keely, don’t do this. You know I’ve loved Tommy all my life. Just because I’m seeing someone else doesn’t mean I don’t care about him. And about you. I think you’re both heading for a big crash. You know he’s just using you.
Could we not talk about men for once? I want to know how you’re doing at the colony. Are you writing like a mad thing? Learning some cool advice?
Are you coming to the island at all this summer? Let me know. I’m working every job I can get and I want to clear some time to be with you. Mom’s doing great. She loves cooking. Can you plan to come over for dinner when you’re on the island? Bring Gordon!
XO K
Hi, Keely, sorry I haven’t been in touch for a while. I’ve been so crazy busy here at the writers’ colony, and when I get a chance, I zip down to the city to spend some time with Gordon. He’s been really patient about me being isolated here like some kind of nun. But I’ve met some cool people—and some odd ones—who are trying to write their first novel, too, and we get all our meals in the dining hall, so I don’t have to cook and can focus on my work.
Are you still with Tommy? If you are, don’t get your hopes up that it will last. Tommy doesn’t know how to commit.
XO I
Isabelle! Aren’t you coming home this summer at all?
XO K
Keely, don’t you love this photo? It’s me, standing in front of John Keats’s house in London. Gordon and I flew over for a couple of weeks in August so I could take a break from the writing workshop. It gets so intense. Are you and Tommy still together? I hope not.
XO I
Hi, Isabelle, for someone in London with Gordon, you’re awfully curious about Tommy. Yes, we are together. And we don’t talk about you at all. I mean, you’re almost engaged to Gorgeous Gordon.
Are you coming home for Christmas and New Years?
XO K
Sorry, no, Gordon and I are going to Paris for Christmas. If you’re with Tommy, don’t buy him anything too sentimental. It would be a waste of your money. And don’t expect anything like jewelry from him. He’s clueless.
XO I
Hi Isabelle, are you coming to the island for a visit this summer? I miss you!
XO K
Oh, Keely, I’m sorry, I lost your last email, I mean I didn’t really read it, I get so many. Something about spring makes me want to write all the time, and I think I’ve got a brilliant novel going. Gordon is so patient and kind. Are you getting any writing done or are you too busy trying to keep Tommy happy? He can be moody. No one knows that more than I do.
XO I
Hi, Isabelle, I got a lot of writing done over the winter because I didn’t have much work with Clean Sweep. Now everyone’s coming back so I’m working again. It’s fine, I think. It will give me time to let my novel “cool.”
Isabelle, you’ve got to stop with this Tommy business. You act like you own him, like you have him fenced in. I just don’t get it. What do you want?
XO K
Hi, Keely, I suppose we should talk on the phone sometime but we’d both start yelling at each other. You’re my best friend, so I don’t understand how you cannot get that Tommy was my first love. We were precious to each other. Feelings like that don’t just evaporate. Why can’t you date someone else? Don’t you see it wouldn’t hurt me as much if Tommy saw someone else?
So tired of trying to explain.
Hi, Isabelle, I can’t believe you were here last week with
Gordon and you didn’t even call me! I would have loved to meet him. Your mother said you two came for only a couple days, and Gordon asked your father for permission to marry you. Your mother said you have a ring the size of an ostrich egg.
Why didn’t you call me? Didn’t you want to see me?
K
Keely, I’m sorry sorry sorry, please don’t be mad at me. I’m balancing so many balls in the air! Gordon’s parents are very demanding. I haven’t been able to write for weeks. He wants me to leave the BWC, but I want to finish out this year. I’m so close to finishing this novel, but I’ve shared some of it with Gordon and he got so upset about the sex scenes. His parents would probably never speak to me again if I published a book that had these sex scenes. But they’re not perverted or weird, they’re about love, and I don’t know what to do. My advisor here tells me to leave them in, they’re good, they’re important, but I don’t want to make Gordon’s parents mad.
I’m so worried and unhappy! DON’T sign your emails without the XO! I need as many XOs from you as I can get. I know I’ve been a crap correspondent for the past two years, but everything has been so extreme. I’ll phone you sometime. Will you talk to me?
XOXOXO I
Isabelle, of course I’ll talk to you. You need to rethink this relationship with Gorgeous Gordon. He seems controlling. And puritanical. I do love you and worry about you. And I have missed you so much!
XO K
ISABELLE! I have a literary agent! I sent my novel to Sally Hazlitt at Hazlitt and Hopkins in NYC, and Sally called me! She loves my book! She’s sending me a contract to sign! After her phone call I screamed so loud my mother thought I’d hurt myself! I hugged her so hard I picked her up off the floor! I’m so wired I could run to ’Sconset and back without stopping.
I’ve tried to call you but you never pick up so I’m sending this text.
I wish you were here, Izzy, we could pop a bottle of champagne and drink it at Surfside and dance in the waves. No one but you really understands. I have an agent! Miracles do happen! My book probably won’t get published—but I have an agent so maybe it will! Could you come home for a few days? Or maybe I should drive out to the Berkshires and take you out to dinner to celebrate. This is the best day of my life!
XOXOXO K
Sorry I couldn’t answer sooner. It was Gordon’s mother’s birthday. (She makes Queen Elizabeth look like Lady Gaga.) How exciting that you have an agent. Congratulations. Did you tell Tommy? What does he think? I’ll call soon.
XO I
Isabelle, no one understands the importance of getting an agent but you. I told Tommy. He’s more excited about the size of the striped bass he caught last week.
I took Mom out to dinner to celebrate, but she doesn’t really get it, either. I’m just cleaning houses and babysitting and keeping my fingers crossed.
XO K
“Come on, Keely. Let’s get married. It’s time. It’s past time.”
They were seated on the beach in the late afternoon. The dune they leaned against was warm. The ocean was friendly, blue and white and lacework froth.
“Tommy,” Keely said, trying to keep the strain from her voice. “We’ve talked about this so often…It’s foolish to marry when we don’t have the money to rent a house, let alone to buy one.”
“Keely—”
“We’re twenty-five years old. And we’re still living with our parents.”
“Maybe your mother would like us to move in with her. Keep her from being lonely. I could fix things around the house—”
“Sweetheart, you already help her when she needs something fixed. You’re wonderful with her. You’re wonderful, period. But you want to buy a deep-sea fishing boat, and I want to write a novel that gets published, and we’ve both worked a million hours a week for the past two years and we’ve saved and saved our money, and we don’t have anything close to a down payment.”
Keely pulled her knees up and rested her forehead on them, hugging her legs tightly, trying to keep from crying. She was so tired. She had tried so hard. Tommy was a wonderful man, sexier now than when he was in high school, and he was kind and hardworking and funny. He was the whole package.
But he wanted to start a family. Now. He wanted some little Tommy Fitzgeralds running around, playing Nerf ball with him.
He really wanted, although he hadn’t yet come out to say it in words, for Keely to stop “messing around” with her “stories” and get a good full-time job, maybe something with the town, so they could have health benefits.
They’d argued about this for months. She could not get him to understand that writing was for her what deep-sea fishing was for him. She’d forced him to read a short story that was published in a literary magazine because she’d been sure that would help him understand her, her talents, her goals. Ha. He didn’t even get the point of the story. Really, he didn’t even get the point of fiction, unless it was science fiction, which Tommy said was actually kind of true because it was science fiction.
“Life isn’t all about money, Keely. Remember what you and Isabelle used to call yourselves? Surfside Sisters? Because you would both leap into life instead of dawdling at the edge, waiting until it was safe.”
Sometimes Tommy surprised her. “You remembered that? Oh, Tommy, I do love you.” Leaning forward, she kissed him thoroughly.
* * *
—
How much should one person ask from life? Was she greedy? Selfish? Or simply self-deluded?
These things she knew: She was fortunate to live on this beautiful speck of land surrounded by the ocean. Fortunate to have a mother alive and well and a truly pleasant companion. She had a sexy, lusty lover who was good to her and did manly jobs around the house, but she didn’t have to do his laundry or clean the sink after he shaved. She had several short stories published in literary reviews—smallish reviews, but respectable. She made a nice fat salary with Clean Sweep, and she helped her mother pay the mortgage every month. She had a best friend who was in her second year at the Berkshire Writers’ Colony, who was halfway through writing a novel.
And Keely had an agent! She had finished a novel, and sent it to an agent, and Sally Hazlitt liked it!
But would it sell? Would it get published? The chances were one in a million.
Keely wished she could send the novel to Isabelle for her opinion, and yet she didn’t want to, and she didn’t actually understand why.
* * *
—
Tonight was Tommy’s poker night with the guys. Keely would cook dinner for herself and her mother, do laundry, read one of the novels she’d taken from the library. A normal evening. She was fortunate. Anxious but fortunate.
She stepped out of the shower just as her cell rang. Wrapping a towel around her, she padded into her bedroom and answered.
“Keely? It’s Sally Hazlitt. I have some very good news for you.”
Keely’s heart skipped a beat. “You do?”
“Keely. Listen. This doesn’t happen very often. This is like a lightning bolt! Ransome & Hawkmore Publishing loves Rich Girl. They’re making a low six-figure offer—I might be able to inch them up a little—and they want you to come in and meet with them. Keely? Are you there?”
“I’m…I’m here. Wow. This is…”
Sally changed to business mode. “So. How soon can you come in? We’ve got a lot to talk about. Can you fly in tomorrow? You’ll want to stay for a few days.”
“Well, my jobs…I guess, but I guess I can take some time off—”
“Keely, did you hear what I said? They’re making a low six-figure, two-book contract—I might be able to inch them up a little.”
Keely couldn’t breathe.
“You’re good for that, right? You’ve got another book or two in you?”
Deep breaths, deep breaths, Keely told herself. She choked out,
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, then, book a flight and let me know when you’ll be here.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll get back to you right away.”
When the call ended, Keely didn’t move. Couldn’t. It was as if one twitch of her hand would disturb the universe around her, this universe so suddenly kind.
At last she took a deep breath. She stood up, and walked into the kitchen.
“Mom, I’m going to have a book published.”
Eloise was slicing a lemon. “What?”
“I’m going to have a book published. Rich Girl. Sally Hazlitt, my agent, just called me. I have to go to New York.”
Eloise gaped at Keely as if she were a puzzle. “I don’t understand. You’re going to have a book published?”
“Yes. A novel. I told you about it, you know I’ve been writing. I told you about Sally Hazlitt. She just called to say Ransome & Hawkmore are going to publish it.”
“This is amazing.”
“I know,” Keely agreed.
Eloise dried her hands on a towel and wrapped her arms around Keely. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so glad for you.”
“I wish Dad were here,” Keely said quietly, hugging her mother close. “I wish he knew.”
“Maybe he does,” Eloise said.
“I’m taking you out to dinner!” Keely said. “We need to celebrate.”
“Darling, could we order in? I’ve got to work tomorrow and I’m exhausted.”
“Sure. Absolutely.” Keely’s mind was spinning. “But let’s open a bottle of champagne, okay?”
“Will prosecco do?”
“Fine.” She followed her mother into the kitchen and while Eloise got down the flutes, Keely dug around inside the refrigerator to find an unopened bottle of prosecco.