Maybe it was because his face was so close to mine, or maybe it was because I was so happy to be able to show Julia the initials, or maybe it was because he smelled like coffee and laundry detergent, but whatever the reason, I turned at the same time he turned and we kissed.
I don’t know if I kissed him first or he kissed me. I just know that suddenly his mouth was on mine and his body was pressing against my own. His hand at the nape of my neck. My hands on his arms. Drifting down his sides. Clutching where his pants met his hips. My nose bumped against his and I giggled. He tried to hold me closer but stumbled, losing his balance and pulling me with him until his back was against the wall. I laughed some more, but kept kissing him. Below us, the crowd erupted into a loud cheer. Somebody had won. Somebody had lost. But we kept kissing.
When at last we broke, we stood staring at each other. His lips were still slightly parted, and my own felt bruised. For a moment, we did nothing. Just stared.
“Sebastian . . . I’m so, so sorry—”
“Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t—”
“No, it’s my fault. I kissed you—”
“No, you’re totally right. So stupid,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair, then leaned against the wall, well away from the open loft door.
What I did next was impulsive and so unlike me. I reached behind his neck and pulled him to me again. My lips hurt in the best way possible. His lips were warm and sweet with coffee and sugar. I had no room in my head to worry about betraying Julia or that he had just broken up with his girlfriend or that he was a Buchanan and I was just Charlie. I could only think about how amazing it felt to kiss him and how I never wanted to stop. It took the crowd below us exploding into a second and louder roar for me to realize what I was doing. I pushed him away.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m . . . I’m going to go.” I stepped back, tugging my sweater down from where it had ridden up and gotten caught in the clasp of my bra. Once my stomach was covered, I turned and ran down the stairs, leaving him standing at the loft door, lit from behind by the hazy October sun, a bewildered expression on his face.
WHY NOT?
“Tell me again why you won’t come to Arcadia for Thanksgiving?”
“Because I have to go home.”
“Will you look away from the canvas for one moment? What is up with you lately? Très, très fou.”
“Nothing,” I mumbled as I dropped a paintbrush with more force than I meant to into a jar of murky water, splashing my pants. “Shit.”
Julia raised an eyebrow. “Well if you won’t tell me, you should at least tell Aloysius. He’s very concerned that you’re acting like such a folle personne.” She held out the stuffed moose from her perch on the studio radiator like I might actually start talking to him.
I smiled despite myself. There’s no way I could tell her. I stirred the paintbrush in the jar vigorously and dumped the water in the studio sink, wiping at my eyes at the same time. They stung from the paint fumes.
“Hey, Charlie, catch!”
I turned just fast enough so Aloysius thudded against my face before crumpling to the paint-splattered cement floor.
“Mon Dieu. You’re just as coordinated as Sebastian.”
At his name my chest hurt. I bent over to pick up Aloysius, lingering so I could hide my expression. “I just wasn’t prepared for a stuffed moose to be flying at my head, that’s all.”
“Hey, cranky pants, let me tell you a story.”
“Oh, it’s story hour now?”
“Yup. So when Gus was a sophomore, she was so tired from staying out all night after winning the Atlantic Coast Championship Regatta that when she went to practice the next morning she stepped in goose caca and slid right off the dock into the river.”
“Who told you that?”
“Coach Kellogg.”
“So, I guess Gus was clumsy, too.”
“Oui. Now will you tell me the true reason you won’t come for Thanksgiving?”
“I really do need to go home, I swear. Thanksgiving, unfortunately, is Melissa’s favorite holiday. She’s nuts about it.”
“Okay,” Julia said, jumping off the radiator. “If you swear, but you’re still being weird.”
“I know.”
“Merde! It’s going to be so dull out there without you.” She slapped the wall for emphasis.
I smiled. “I’m sure you guys will find a way to entertain yourselves.”
“Still won’t be the same. Mummy and Boom are going to be disappointed, too. They consider you an extra Oops, another daughter they didn’t expect, but kind of wanted.”
I just shook my head, afraid that if I opened my mouth I would let her know how much I wanted to go. I hated the thought of not seeing her for a week and of missing them all. But I hated the thought of seeing him more . . . almost as much as I hated not seeing him.
“Fine, you’re off the hook for now. These paint fumes are obviously messing with your brain, but you’re coming out for New Year’s, and I won’t accept any excuses.”
“None? What if I lose a leg in a tragic dining hall salad bar accident?” I said. “What if I’m sick in the hospital with food poisoning, or I come down with some rare tropical disease that’s never been seen before?”
“Nope. Not even if you lose all your limbs in a car—” Julia’s face fell just as quickly as her smile had risen.
I closed the space between us in a few steps. Her eyes were stretched at the corners and tears were threatening to spill over her lower lids.
“Hey, here,” I said, thrusting Aloysius at her. “It’s okay. I was just kidding. I’ll get out there over winter break even if I have pinkeye, mono, and some incurable and highly contagious STD.”
“That’s disgusting,” she said, but she was smiling through her sniffling. “Now I’m not sure if I want you to come after all.”
“Too late. You’re stuck with me.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: November 29
Subject: Checking In
Dear Charlotte,
We missed you for Thanksgiving! However, Julia has promised me that you’ll be joining us over St. Anne’s Christmas break. I bought you a ferry ticket just in case. I’m sending it back with Julia along with some goodies Sophie baked for you. She says to tell you, “Tu nous as manqué, ma chérie!”
With much affection,
Teresa
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: November 29
Subject: This is Cordelia NOT SPAM
Charlie,
Why didn’t you come see us? Julia promised you would. Is it because Nantucket is too cold in November? My friends think we’re all crazy for coming out here all year round.
The Homers got another horse, so next time you come to Arcadia, you, Julia, and I can all go riding at the same time. You know how to ride, right?
Write me back. I check my email every day!!
OXOXO
Cordelia (You can call me Oops if you want)
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: November 30
Subject: Phone
Hey Charlie,
Why’d you bail on Thanksgiving? You missed meeting crazy grandma Gertrude . . . and trying one of Sophie’s pies. The latter’s more significant and more digestible. Ha ha.
I’m sending Julia back with a phone to give to you. (She told me yours is pathetic.) I just got it, but before I even opened the box they came out with a new model. Don’t let her lose it! If you need help setting it up, you know where to find me.
--B
P.S. Julia’s been moping all week. You can’t do this to us again. She’s a terror without you.
P.P.S. Seriously don’t lose this phone. It’s awesome. It does everything but the dishes.
To: [email protected]
u
From: [email protected]
Date: November 30
Subject: New Years Eve Party
Happy belated Thanksgiving! Julia tells me you’re coming out for New Year’s. We’ll get an extra ticket for the party at the White Elephant just in case.
Let Sophie know if you need anything.
Cheers,
Boom
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: December 1
Subject: So . . .
Charlie,
Hey. So I got your email address from Julia. I hope that’s okay. And I hope that the reason you didn’t come out this week wasn’t because of me. Julia would kill me if that was why.
I’m sorry for screwing up. But I’m also not sorry. Does that make sense?
Sebastian
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: December 1
Subject: Re: So . . .
It makes more sense than you know. You didn’t mess up. I did.
I wish I could explain better.
I don’t want to hurt Julia. I hope that makes sense, too.
Charlie
EIGHTEEN
WE HAD BEEN AT THE New Year’s Eve party at the White Elephant Resort for a little over an hour before Julia insisted we leave.
It was my first New Year’s on Nantucket, and I wanted to stay. I could have stood by the Buchanans’ table near the dance floor and done nothing but watch people until midnight and it still would have been one of the most amazing nights of my life. The men were in black tuxedos and the women wore the kinds of dresses I’d only seen in Melissa’s gossip magazines. The waiters and waitresses had on white gloves and the ballroom was dotted with candlelight and saturated with classical music. It was like being dropped into a Renoir painting.
But Julia was bored. Julia wanted to go. So I moved to the door and waited, smoothing the black cocktail dress I hadn’t worn since the last and final time Grandma Eve had taken me to the ballet. I saw Julia grab Sebastian’s arm and whisper something in Boom’s ear. He shook his head, listened, and then shook it again. After a long pause and a deep drink from the dark liquid in his glass, he nodded and pointed first at Sebastian and then at me. Julia jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. She pulled Sebastian so he walked beside her. The straps of her red dress kept slipping off her shoulders as she crossed the dance floor. When she reached me, I slid them back up.
“Allons-y!”
I hadn’t been so close to Sebastian all night. It was as if we both knew that our email exchange had actually been an agreement to avoid each other. I tried to keep my eyes on the couples on the dance floor, but I couldn’t help glancing at him. His tie was loose and his tuxedo jacket too big, like it was borrowed from Boom or Bradley. His feet tapped and his eyes rested everywhere and anywhere but on me.
I forced myself to look at Julia. “What’d you tell Boom?”
“The truth,” said Julia. “That we were leaving.”
“And he’s okay with that?”
Julia tugged on my arm. “Not really. Usually we’re all together at midnight, but he’ll be fine. Let’s go. I want to do something different this year, and this place is as exciting as watching water freeze.”
“What about Bradley?”
“Oh, he disappeared half an hour ago with an ex-ex-ex-girlfriend. He knows where to find us. Besides.” She pointed in Sebastian’s direction. “Boom’s making Sebastian come with us, so we already have a babysitter for the evening.”
“And where will Bradley find us?”
“The Chicken Box, of course.” Julia hugged me, dropping her purse on the ground in her excitement. “Il est temps de faire la fête, Charlie!” She ran out the ballroom door while my arms were still raised from being around her waist.
I picked up her purse and followed her. I couldn’t believe that I was leaving a place called the White Elephant for one named after a barnyard bird.
As we passed through the lobby door into the December dark, I saw Boom watching us from near the check-in desk. His forehead was wrinkled and he had one foot in front of the other, as if he might spring after us. When our eyes met he raised his glass and smiled that wide Buchanan smile, mouthing something to me that I couldn’t hear but was pretty sure I understood: “Take care of her.”
Only once we were all inside the waiting cab did he turn and go back to the party.
The Chicken Box was a squat building that looked like it could just as easily hold horses and cows as people. Like the buildings to the left and the right, it had gray shingles along the side, white flower boxes filled with snow, and a pitch-black roof, but that’s where its adherence to the Island dress code ended. The shutters were crooked, the cobblestones ended just before the drive, and light glared out from the windows as garish as neon signs on the Vegas strip. We heard the music pulsing out the open door long before the cab pulled to a stop in front.
Julia jumped out of the car, leaving me to scramble after her with her coat and purse and Sebastian to pay the fare.
The bouncer at the door was wearing a puffy coat that made him look like a marshmallow stuck on two toothpicks. His ruddy face was barely visible under his ear-flapped hat and raised collar. He held up his hand even before we got to the door.
“Twenty-one and up tonight.”
“Oh, we’re twenty-one,” Julia said, grabbing her coat from me and fishing through the pockets. “See.” She handed him her ID, and I thought I saw a flash of green beneath.
I glanced at Sebastian more out of embarrassment than for confirmation that Julia was trying to bribe the bouncer, but he had his hands in his coat pockets and was looking down at the frozen ground.
“Buchanan, huh?” the bouncer asked, and if he was smiling it came across as a grimace. He handed Julia back her ID, the money still tucked underneath.
“Yup,” said Julia, shoving her ID in her purse. She held the bill in her hand for a moment before slipping it in there as well. She shrugged at Sebastian and me, as if to say, “I tried.”
“Put out your hands.”
All three of us obeyed. The bouncer reached into his pocket, pulled out an ink pad, and stamped our hands with a green star.
Julia made as if to pass through the door, but the bouncer smacked a hand across the frame right before she got through.
“I catch you drinking, I kick you out. I catch you looking at a drink, I’ll kick you out. If I catch you even thinking about drinking, I’ll kick you out. Got it?”
We all nodded; then Julia ducked under his arm and disappeared inside.
“Good. Have a lovely evening,” said the bouncer, moving his arm from the door. “Oh,” he said as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Tell your dad Jim Bellows says thanks again.”
Sebastian and I must have looked confused, because he added, “He’ll know what I mean.”
“Will do,” Sebastian said, and I followed him through the door.
We dumped our coats on a small side table near where Julia had stopped to watch the packed dance floor.
“Now, this is a party.” She grabbed a cocktail napkin from the table behind us, dunked it in an unfinished drink on our table, and began scrubbing furiously at the green star on the back of my hand. Once she had spread it to a messy splotch, she moved on to Sebastian, and then her own hand.
“Voila! Allons boire, maintenant.”
I knew Julia well enough to guess the gist of what she had said. “Ummm, first, it looks like we all have mold growing on our hands. And second, remember ‘if I catch you even thinking about drinking, I’ll kick you out’?” I said.
“Charlie!” Julia grasped my face between her hands, which were sticky from dunking the napkin in the drink. “First, this place is so crowded, the bouncer is lucky if he can see his hand in front of his face. And second, well . . . vivre un peu.” She kissed my forehead with a loud smack and bounced to the bar, where she handed a wri
nkled bill to a wrinkled man with an enormous beard but no hair on his head. She raised three fingers and he nodded.
Sebastian and I stood watching the band, the crowd, the plastic Mardi Gras beads being flung through the air. Though we stood apart looking at anything but each other, I didn’t forget for a second that he was close enough to touch.
Then Julia came back with three glasses filled with ice and pink liquid. I grabbed one of them from her, grateful to have something to do with my hands. We drank. Then Sebastian went and got three more. We drank those, and then the night started to blur. A mishmash of sights and sounds that pulsed at the core and softened at the edges.
Suddenly, Julia and I were on the dance floor, and Sebastian disappeared into the wall of bodies near the bar and I was disappointed, but then I forgot why. The band was part punk, part rock, and a little bit of country. They played covers of all the songs that normally made me change the radio station when I was driving with my dad, but that night I loved them all. Guys in torn jeans and T-shirts and girls in sneakers and clingy dresses pressed around us, yelling along to the songs just as loudly as Julia and me. The heat of so many bodies packed together made the air above the dance floor steam, and I wondered how I had ever been cold.
The music was in my limbs, lifting my arms above my head like I was praising something higher than myself, making my feet turn while I spun Julia, then she me. She was a ballerina, a rock star, a cabaret dancer, laughing with her head thrown back. I was her partner, stepping in to twirl and dip her so the world could admire her more.
We had one more drink. Then someone bought us another. Then I lost count.
When a girl with brown skin as smooth as polished marble in a black tank top and pants so tight they looked painted onto her whippet-thin body stepped in to dance with Julia, I let her. I melted into the crowd that lined the periphery of the dance floor, admiring the beautiful bodies pulsing to the sounds of music that demanded to be danced to.
When I reached the far side of the bar, I leaned against it, exhaling gratefully. I eased one foot out of one heel, then the other, sinking down and crunching my toes on the rough wood floor.
Even in Paradise Page 13