Maine

by J. Courtney Sullivan

“What happened?” Alice asked.

  “I heard a scary noise,” Maggie said. “It woke me up.”

  “Did you tell your parents?” Alice looked in vain toward their bedroom.

  “They’re asleep,” Maggie said. She kept right on crying.

  “Did you think it was a ghost?” Alice asked. She meant it as a joke, but Maggie’s face turned deadly serious.

  “Oh, Grandma, I wish I could see a ghost,” she said. “Then death wouldn’t be so scary. Seeing a ghost would mean we get to keep on living. Well, sort of. Right?”

  Alice was startled. What kind of child said a thing like that?

  “Get back to sleep now,” she said sternly. “You’re fine. You only heard the wind off the dunes.”

  When she got into bed beside Daniel a few moments later, having forgotten all about her glass of water, Alice felt so rattled she had to shake him awake to tell him the story.

  Daniel just chuckled groggily. “What a clever munchkin that one is,” he said, before immediately falling back to sleep.

  After she hung up the phone, Alice walked to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of wine, and then she set to washing the dishes.

  Maybe she ought to be kinder to Maggie. After all, she was going through a breakup. She seemed a bit out of sorts. But why the hell did she have to bring that friend here with no notice at all? Why had she said those things about Daniel right in front of that Scottish girl?

  Alice saw her grandchildren as extensions of their parents, so that Ryan’s ambition and disappointment had her praying for Clare, and Chris’s roughness made her light candles for Kathleen. But she also blamed her daughters for how their children had turned out. How could she not? Kathleen had no sense of propriety whatsoever, and so her child saw nothing wrong with coming to Alice’s dinner table and asking her about her life’s most devastating moments.

  Maggie had said that Daniel would want to see her painting again. That alone made Alice want to slap her across the face. What did she know about any of that? Daniel was a wonderful man, and she had loved him dearly. But he had never been interested in seeing her become anything besides another mother, another proper housewife. He had insisted that she stop drinking because of it; he had consulted their daughter about his cancer treatment rather than worry Alice’s pretty little head.

  Don’t you think it could be good for us to talk about him? her granddaughter had asked preposterously, and in front of a complete stranger. Alice assumed she wanted to know only for the sake of that goddamn book she was writing. She wasn’t about to bare her soul to fulfill Maggie’s literary aspirations. The story of how she met Daniel, of how she lost her sister, would remain hers alone. It wasn’t anyone else’s business. But now Maggie had her thinking about all of it, and she hated to think about it.

  Alice walked back out to the porch for a cigarette. In the distance, the waves were crashing against the rocks. This had been Daniel’s favorite time of night, sitting out here with a cup of peppermint tea, listening to the surf before bed. She missed him—there was a pit in her stomach where he had once resided.

  A short while later, she went to the bathroom and switched on the radio to have a bit of noise. She changed into a cotton nightgown and removed her teeth, brushing them gently before she placed them in a glass of cold water on the edge of the sink. The dentures were a new acquisition this year. She was happy at least that Daniel hadn’t lived long enough to see them.

  Alice pulled back her hair and washed her face with cold cream. Her skin had gotten so terribly dry as she aged. It was as thin as tissue paper now, and could tear from the slightest bump. She dipped her fingers into a tub of Eucerin, as she did each night, rubbing the jelly into her cracked legs and pulling a pair of stretchy black pants over the top to seal in the moisture. Tomorrow she was having lunch with Father Donnelly. Maybe that would cheer her up.

  She shut off the radio and got into her bed, which was far too big for only her. The memories plunged forth and she had to leave the light on, as if she were her own timid child.

  The Holy Cross–Boston College football game at Fenway Park fell on November 28, 1942, two days after Thanksgiving. Alice’s brothers Timmy and Paul and so many of their friends were home on leave for two weeks, and they were giddy, running around town in their uniforms, making the girls swoon. Her other brothers hadn’t come home: Jack was on the USS Augusta, somewhere off the coast of North Africa. Michael, only fifteen, was fighting in the Pacific. He was technically too young, but he had snuck into the military, afraid to miss out on the excitement.

  With two of the four boys home and their mother a nervous wreck, convinced that all of them might be dead by Christmas, that Thanksgiving was a feast unlike any they had ever had—their mother cooked a turkey and gravy, buttery mashed potatoes and au gratins, too, and Mary baked apple pie and peach cobbler. By the time Saturday came, they were still stuffed.

  The boys all hoped to go to Boston College once the war was over. They had been rooting for the Eagles since they were kids. This year, BC was undefeated, and winning this game would mean a trip to the Sugar Bowl. But in an upset that sent her brothers into a tizzy (no doubt they’d lost plenty gambling on the game), Holy Cross won, fifty-five to twelve.

  Alice didn’t give a fig about any of this; she hadn’t even gone to the game with the boys. But she had been preparing to meet Daniel Kelleher at the Cocoanut Grove later that night since right after breakfast. Mary wasn’t coming. She was supposed to, but at the last minute her Henry got tickets for a show at the Shubert, and she pulled out.

  “You’re making me go alone?” Alice had moaned that morning in the bathroom as they washed their faces.

  “You won’t be alone, you’ll have the boys there.”

  “Mary, you’d better come meet us after the show.”

  “We’ll see what Henry wants.”

  “What Henry wants! Always what Henry wants!” Alice walked into the hallway and slammed the door.

  “Oh, honestly!” came Mary’s voice from the other side.

  She left the house a short while later. “Good luck tonight,” she said, pinching Alice’s cheek.

  Alice spent the afternoon primping on her own, which was nowhere near as fun as doing it with someone else. But by the time she was ready, she felt like a million bucks. The silver silk dress she had picked out fell perfectly over her hips, pooling on the floor and covering the scuffed toes of her shoes. The dress belonged to Mary and was too big for Alice on its own—she had tied a blue ribbon tightly around her waist to give it some shape. She was wearing Mary’s favorite gray suede gloves, lined with mink, and her mink coat too. The coat had been a present from Henry, but Mary hardly ever put it on. Finders keepers, Alice thought. It was wintertime. Someone ought to be getting some wear out of it.

  She herself didn’t have a single dress nice enough to wear to the Cocoanut Grove. Everyone would be in formal evening attire, and she wasn’t about to try to dress up a convertible suit with pearls, as her mother had suggested. But her brothers had invited her to come. A shipmate of Tim’s had an older brother named Daniel who’d gone to Holy Cross and was now home on leave from the Pacific for a week. Timmy had gotten it into his head that this older brother ought to marry one of his sisters.

  For months he had been writing Alice about how wonderful Daniel was, even though he wasn’t a Boston College grad. He was sweet and funny and smart as heck, Timmy said. He had been born smack in the middle of ten kids and had the patience of a saint. (Perfect for a pain in the neck like you, ha-ha! he had written.)

  Alice wrote back: If you like the man so much, why don’t you marry him?

  Ha. Ha, Timmy responded. Just come out with us to the BC game at the end of the month, and afterward we’ll go somewhere special for dancing.

  Having no intention of meeting a date in the freezing cold and wind of a football game, she had arranged to get together with the boys afterward at the Cocoanut Grove. Really, she had agreed to the setup only because she want
ed an excuse to go.

  Alice had been there twice before, once to see Joe Frisco perform, and the other time, Helen Morgan. She loved the place—the long oval bar beside the stage, the wide dance floor surrounded by tables covered in white linen cloths. The room was lined with palm trees and dripping with lights. In summertime, the roof could be rolled back for dancing under the stars.

  She arrived at seven thirty, right on time, gliding through the revolving door, feeling like a movie star. She wore a bright red lipstick that her aunt Rose had sent from New York the previous Christmas. She had styled her hair in a soft wave, like Veronica Lake in Sullivan’s Travels.

  Inside the club, hundreds of people stood shoulder to shoulder: handsome men in uniform by the dozens, glamorous women in their finest gowns. Every corner was full, every table taken up. Alice scanned the room for her brothers, pushing through the crowd. She looked out over the packed dance floor, but she didn’t see them anywhere. She lingered over small talk with the redheaded coat-check girl for far too long, just to have something to do: Yes, it was a chilly one out there. Pity about Boston College, and did Alice know that the entire team was meant to be there tonight for their victory party, but had canceled, and it was a shame, really, because the redhead had been pining after the BC fullback for positively ages.

  When she went back toward the dance floor, the boys still hadn’t arrived. And so she stood alone by the bar, feeling like an absolute fool and vowing to murder her brothers as soon as they showed their faces. She held Mary’s gloves in one hand, swinging them back and forth a few times, before realizing that she looked like a nervous Nellie. She set them down on the oak bar, running her fingers over the suede, counting the minutes.

  It was ten to eight when they finally rolled in, drunk as skunks and towed by a couple of strangers. Alice’s brothers were big, dark, strapping men. The pair behind them looked like scarecrows in comparison—rather short and spindly, with hair the color of red-tinged straw. They barely filled out their uniforms.

  “There she is!” her brother Paul hollered, far too loud. Even in the din, a few people turned to stare.

  “You’re late,” she hissed, when the boys got close enough. “I’ve been waiting here forever.”

  “Oh, now, don’t be dramatic,” Paul said. “We’re only a few minutes behind schedule, and believe me, you wouldn’t have wanted to see us before we had a drink. Tim was in tears!” He laughed raucously, and the other boys joined him.

  It hit her then, as it sometimes did, that her brothers had already been to war and would soon have to return, like so many other young men in the room. There was news all the time of boys you had grown up with, dead and gone. Yet they still got upset over football games, and dressed up to go dancing. Life didn’t stop for anything.

  One of the scarecrows extended a hand. “Daniel Kelleher,” he said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Is he handsome? she had asked her brother Timmy at Thanksgiving dinner, and he had scoffed before saying, He looks like Clark Gable, okay?

  She realized now that her brother had been joking.

  “Can I get you a drink?” the scarecrow asked. Alice requested a gin and tonic with lime.

  He made his way up to the bar and she grabbed Timmy’s sleeve.

  “How could you?” she hissed.

  “What are you talking about?” he said.

  “He’s a dud!”

  “Quit being such a snob. Give him a chance, will ya?”

  Daniel returned a few minutes later with a glass of clear liquid on ice.

  “They were fresh out of limes,” he said. “Or should that be ‘out of fresh limes’?”

  Alice hated him at once. She took the glass from his hand and turned toward the others to let all of them—especially Daniel—know that she wasn’t interested.

  “These boys of ours are a bunch of real sore losers, Alice,” Daniel said with a laugh. She narrowed her eyes. He meant his own brother, too, but she certainly didn’t appreciate his referring to her brothers that way.

  “Never underestimate the power of the Crusaders,” he went on, beaming. “Fifty-five to twelve, how does that feel, fellas? I bet it smarts, huh?”

  “There’s such a thing as an ungraceful winner, too, you know,” Alice said. She gulped down the gin.

  “Uh-oh,” Timmy said. “Pay her no attention, Daniel. She’s just sore with us.”

  “No, no, she’s right,” Daniel said with a grin. “Very ungentlemanly of me.”

  “Well, I owe you a drink, I guess,” Timmy said.

  “You owe me more than that, but we can discuss it when your sister’s not around,” Daniel chuckled.

  Alice emptied her glass. “Timothy, another G and T,” she said. “You certainly owe me a drink too.”

  Timmy went to the bar and the other boys started talking about football.

  Daniel turned to her. “So, your brothers tell me you work in a law firm. That must be exciting.”

  “Not really.”

  “Aww, come on. I think if it were my job I’d want to read all the files for the juicy scandals. Who’s suing who and all that.”

  She cocked her head. She had never thought of that. It wasn’t a half-bad idea.

  “I’m saving up to go to Paris when the war is over,” she said, which was almost the truth. “I’m going to be a painter someday. Well, at least I want to.”

  “It’s good to have a daydream,” he said. “That’s what my mother always told us.”

  She wanted to tell him this wasn’t a stupid daydream, that someone had paid her for her work, but he kept talking: “I’ve been working as a trainer in the gun mount on my ship for six months. It gets dull sometimes, you know? Before that, I worked as a junior executive at an insurance company, and yes, it was as boring as it sounds. I’ll have to go back to it someday. But I want to hit like Ted Williams. That’s what I fantasize about to get me through. I’m always getting in trouble on the ship for my ghost batting.” He assumed the batter’s position and swung an imaginary bat, right there in the middle of the club. “Say, did you hear about Ted Williams’s brother? He’s a drifter type, I guess, no good. Anyway, poor Ted buys a big brand-new house, fills it up with nice furnishings. And this brother of his comes to the house one day, backs a truck up to the front door, and steals all the furniture. He even took the washing machine! He sold every last thing.”

  Alice stared blankly. She wanted to go home.

  “Gosh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I talk a lot when I’m nervous. May I say, you look beautiful.” He twisted his fingers around the cuffs of his sleeves. “Your brother said you were a looker, but, wow. How he ever saw fit to set a guy like me up with a girl like you, I’ll never know.”

  My sentiments exactly, she thought, though she smiled back.

  When Timmy returned, she drank the second glass of gin down quickly, and then another. She began to feel warm and light, swaying in place to the music. She hadn’t had much to eat that day—she never did before a date—and she thought a bit tipsily that this Daniel wasn’t really the sort of guy you needed to starve yourself for, but maybe he wasn’t so bad.

  He asked her to dance. It was a fast one, “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree,” even better than the Glenn Miller version on the radio. She was pleasantly surprised to find that Daniel wasn’t as clumsy as she might have imagined. He dipped her back and his big palm felt hot against her spine. He spun her and spun her until she began to feel dizzy. After a while, Alice grabbed his arm and said, “I need to sit down.”

  He took her hand and led her off the floor. Her brothers were gone by then, off to the movies to forget the pain of what they had seen at Fenway Park. Alice couldn’t believe they would just up and leave her like that, but leave they had.

  There were no empty seats at the bar. Daniel approached a bunch of men in air force uniforms clustered around the taps. He put a hand on one man’s arm.

  “Hey, pal, do you mind giving up your seat to the lady?”

 
; The young man jumped to his feet—he was tall, with jet-black hair and broad shoulders. She wished for a minute that Daniel Kelleher could somehow figure out a way to look like him.

  “My pleasure,” he said as he stood up, and Alice wanted to grab him and say that she wasn’t with this guy, not really. She imagined how years later, they’d tell their friends the story of how they’d met while she was on some dreadful fix-up courtesy of her stupid brother, and then her real true love came along and offered up his chair.

  But a moment later, the man was pulled off into the crowd. “Can I get you anything?” Daniel asked. “Another drink? A glass of water?”

  She knew she ought to go for the water, or see if he’d like to sit down to dinner so she could get some food in her stomach, but Alice just said, “Another gin sounds swell.”

  It was then, as he leaned forward to get the bartender’s attention, that Alice spotted her sister chatting with a beautifully dressed older woman. Mary’s cheeks were flushed, and she wore an emerald green gown that Alice had never seen before. Had she been wearing it under her coat when she left the house that morning? Or had Henry given it to her today?

  Mary was laughing at something the woman had said. Alice thought her sister looked like a member of high society, no different from her companion. The sight made her feel uneasy. A moment later, Mary looked up and their eyes met. She kissed the woman on the cheek, gesturing toward Alice. They parted ways, and Mary began moving through the crowd as the band switched gears and started to play a soft, slow song, one of Alice’s favorites, “Moonlight Serenade.”

  Halfway to where she stood, Mary pulled someone up from a table full of elegant men and women in fine attire: Henry. She whispered in his ear and he rose to his feet. They walked slowly toward the bar.

  “There you are!” Mary said when she reached her side. She embraced Alice, and Daniel looked up in surprise. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Where are the boys?”

  “They went to the movies,” Alice said. “What are you doing here?”

  “You told me to come. And it turned out some of Henry’s friends were here already. With a table, as luck would have it.” She looked toward Daniel expectantly.