Since Last Summer

by Joanna Philbin

  Rory didn’t know what to say to this. She figured it was best not to say anything and simply pat Isabel’s arm, to let her know that she understood.

  By the time they got to the beach, most of the sand was covered with blankets and towels and beach chairs. A few scattered bonfires sent halos of light into the twilight. Dogs loped around on the beach, while their owners roasted marshmallows in the flames. It was unabashedly romantic, and Rory felt an acute sense that she’d be a third wheel around Evan and Isabel tonight. “Looks like this is our best bet,” Rory said, pointing to a patch of sand in the glow of someone’s bonfire.

  Isabel lay the blanket down, then placed the shopping bag she’d been carrying in the center of it. She pulled out a bottle of Cristal and two plastic glasses.

  “You stole another bottle of champagne from your parents?” Rory asked.

  “They have so many they’d never even notice.”

  “What about cops?” Rory asked, looking around.

  “Oh please,” Isabel said impatiently. She popped open the bottle behind the shopping bag and poured two glasses—one for herself and one for Rory. Then they clinked glasses. “To letting go of expectations,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Rory said simply, and brought the glass to her lips. The sweet and tangy drink sizzled on her tongue. She’d never cared for champagne that much, but tonight it tasted simply delicious. One year ago tonight I kissed Connor for the first time, she thought. And now I’m back out here, and he’s hanging with his dad.

  “Want some more?” Isabel asked, tipping the golden bottle toward her.

  “I think I’m okay,” she said.

  Isabel downed her glass, then poured herself another. “I’m gonna try to tell Evan where we are over text,” she said, taking out her phone. “Maybe he’ll bring Jeff. You might like him,” she said, winking.

  “Things aren’t that dire yet,” Rory said.

  They opened the cardboard picnic box that Fee had packed and tore into the fried chicken and homemade coleslaw. Somewhere in the distance someone was playing Jack Johnson on a boom box. Rory felt a pleasant mellowness come over her. Even if things were hard with Connor, she was damn lucky to be here. And at least she had an amazing friend in Isabel.

  As it got darker, Isabel continued to check her phone. “No text back,” she said. “Maybe I’ll get up and do a quick recon, see if he’s here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Okay.” Rory lay on her back on the blanket and stared up at the sky. It suddenly seemed obvious, lying there with the canopy of stars above her, that things with Connor had changed, and not for the better. We probably need to break up, she thought, and a deep sadness welled up in her chest. Things had been so good between them for the entire school year. They’d survived being three thousand miles apart. And now, after a few weeks of being in the same house together, they couldn’t make it work. How pathetic was that?

  “Hey,” said a familiar voice. “Are you having a moment? Or can I join you?”

  She sat up on her forearms as Evan crouched down in front of her.

  “You looked like you were communing with the heavens or something,” he said. “Or maybe you were about to fall asleep, I couldn’t tell.”

  “Hi,” she said. “Isabel went to look for you.”

  “Oh yeah? I walked around this whole beach looking for her,” he said. He sat down a few inches from her on the blanket. “I figure if I stay put, at least one of us has a fighting shot.” He wore a hoodie that was the same olive green as his eyes and dark jeans that made his long legs look even longer.

  “You want some food? We have a ton here.”

  “Nah, I’m good. Had the shrimp diavolo at work.” He rubbed his stomach. “I think Bill is secretly trying to poison us. Is Connor…”

  “At his dad’s house,” Rory supplied.

  “Right,” Evan said. “He seems like a cool guy.”

  “Yeah, he is,” she said. She stared out at the waves. It was dark enough now that she could barely see them. “He is a cool guy,” she repeated, as if willing herself to believe it.

  “But…” Evan said.

  Rory turned to look at him.

  “It sounds like there was a but at the end of that sentence,” Evan clarified.

  “I just don’t know if we’re cool together. You know what I mean?” It was a relief to say this out loud, even to her friend’s boyfriend. “It’s probably my fault. I probably screwed it up somehow.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She shrugged. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”

  “I promise.”

  “He’s my first boyfriend,” she said. “I’ve never been in a relationship before.” She dug her bare feet into the still-warm sand, holding her breath for his response.

  “Can I tell you something, if you promise not to laugh?” he said.

  “Okay.” She gave him a sidelong glance, and in the light of the bonfire his eyes glowed.

  “I didn’t have my first girlfriend until freshman year of college.”

  “What? You didn’t have a girlfriend at all?”

  “Well, I thought I had girlfriends, but they all turned out to be dating other people on closer inspection. You know, they hadn’t gotten the memo that we were actually dating. So it was all a little one-sided.”

  She laughed, and for a moment her head was so crowded and jumbly that it was hard to process a thought. When one finally came it was so direct and so certain that it made her catch her breath: I like him. I like Isabel’s boyfriend. I definitely, absolutely, no-holds-barred like him.

  “Well, I won’t tell your secret, if you won’t tell mine,” she said playfully.

  Evan’s eyes were fixed on her in the flickering light from the bonfire. “I won’t,” he said, and something unsaid seemed to pass between them. It was probably ridiculous to even consider, but she wondered if Evan might like her, too.

  “Hey, guys.” Isabel plopped down on the blanket. “So you made it,” she said to Evan, leaning over to give him a hug. “I figured you had to be here. I must have schlepped up and down the entire beach.”

  “Hey, beautiful,” Evan said.

  Rory looked away as they kissed. The first firework exploded above them, lighting up the night sky in whites, blues, and reds.

  Time to get ahold of yourself, she thought. You don’t really like him. You’re just lonely and bored.

  But if that’s all it was, just being lonely and bored, she thought, it wouldn’t feel this bad to hear them kiss.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I think I should tell the caterers we want to do a pasta, a fish, and maybe a beef tenderloin,” Mrs. Rule said, addressing Rory over her shoulder. “What do you think?”

  “Great,” Rory said, because it sounded like Mrs. Rule needed to hear that. “All of those sound great.” She trailed behind Mrs. Rule through the prepared food aisle at Citarella carrying a basket, in case she was here to help with any grocery shopping. But like last week’s shopping expedition, she had the distinct feeling that she was here to keep Mrs. Rule company, for reasons she still didn’t understand.

  “I always do this before I give a party,” said Mrs. Rule, gesturing to the glassed-in case of crab cakes and grilled salmon and Kobe beef burgers on display. “It’s the only way that I can really get a sense of what I want before I figure out the menu. Excuse me.”

  The man in chef’s whites behind the case walked up to her.

  “I’d like a taste of that soy-ginger seared beef,” she said, pointing. Rory noted the she did not say please.

  “Hmmm,” she said, nibbling on the tiny toothpick-sized portion of beef. “Would you like to try some?” Before Rory could answer, Mrs. Rule faced the man behind the counter again. “Another one for my friend.”

  Mrs. Rule passed her the toothpick, and Rory popped the entire piece of beef in her mouth before she could remember to nibble. “Good,” she said, swallowing.

  Mrs. Rule clasped her tanned hands und
er her chin and thought deeply. “The flavors… I don’t know. They’re so… ethnic. Maybe we should do something like the Kobe burgers.”

  “So you’re really going to go ahead with this party?” Rory asked.

  “Of course. The invitations were sent out this morning,” said Mrs. Rule, turning to the man behind the counter. “The Kobe burger, please.”

  “Is the family excited about it?” she asked tentatively.

  Mrs. Rule nibbled half the burger sample and tossed the rest in the trash. “Why wouldn’t they be? Well, one person isn’t. And I think you know who I’m talking about.” She walked farther down the case. “Kelly Quinlan tells me that Isabel’s turned her back on all her old friends. She’s waitressing at a glorified diner. Her father says that she ignores his e-mails and phone calls and invitations to go stay with him. Which is fine; she doesn’t need to do that if she doesn’t want to,” Mrs. Rule said lightly, pulling her handbag strap farther up her shoulder, “but she should at least write him back. And I can’t talk to her. She doesn’t listen to me. But she listens to you. You’re the only one she listens to.”

  Rory wanted to say that Isabel listened to absolutely no one, including her.

  “I’d like you to tell her that she’s made her point, whatever that is, and that it’s done. She needs to be part of this family, instead of constantly running off and spending time with… with…” Mrs. Rule shook her head, as if Evan and Isabel’s fellow waiters eluded description. “You know what I’m saying.”

  “But I think she’s happy,” Rory said. “I think she likes being a waitress.”

  “I’ve known Isabel a little bit longer than you have,” Mrs. Rule said. “And I can tell you that she doesn’t like being a waitress. She likes making me angry. It was obvious when she told me about it.” She drummed her nails on the glass case, drilling in her point. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Mrs. Rule asked. “There’s a boy involved in all this.”

  Rory looked down and blushed. Damn it, she thought.

  “I knew it,” Mrs. Rule said. “It’s always about a boy.” She shook her head. Rory waited for her to say something else, but nothing came. “Anyway, will you please say something to her for me?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Rory said, hoping that would put an end to the interrogation.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Now, let’s go over to the Golden Pear and see what they have. Unless there’s anything you need here?”

  Rory shook her head. She loved how Mrs. Rule pretended to care about other people’s needs, even hers.

  “I’m thinking that you should learn some paddle tennis this summer,” Mrs. Rule remarked. “How would you like that?”

  Rory wanted to say that she wouldn’t like it all, but she smiled and nodded. “Sounds great,” she said, with a sinking heart.

  Isabel sat cross-legged on the kitchen chair, one eye on the flat screen as she picked at her pasta primavera. Her mom was out with Sloane for a girls’ dinner, and Gregory was back in the city, being their father’s business slave. Connor was still at their dad’s house. She’d had an especially long day at work—there’d been an influx of late arrivals, some of them so exacting in their orders that she’d almost invited them to go back to the kitchen and cook the food themselves. She put down her fork and massaged the balls of her feet. At least Evan had been so cute today. Giving her little smiles as they passed each other between tables, telling her how pretty she looked when she came in, and then kissing her good-bye in the back room, when anyone could have walked in and caught them. She was starting to think that she was utterly wrong about the two of them. Maybe they did make sense together after all.

  Rory walked in and grabbed a plate to serve herself from the platter Mickey had left out on the counter.

  “Long day?” Rory asked.

  “The longest. But I think I was also kind of tired from last night. What time did we get home from the beach?”

  “I think it was after midnight,” Rory said. “Thank god I didn’t have work today.”

  “So… what’d you and Evan talk about when I was gone?” Isabel asked.

  “Oh, nothing that important,” Rory said. “Just chatted ’til you showed up.”

  “He’s really talented,” Isabel said, grinning. “And sweet. And adorable.” She pushed her plate away. “I take back everything I said last night in the car. I’m really into him.”

  “Oh?” Rory looked back down at her plate. “Cool.”

  “He’s so funny and so quick and so smart and so… gentlemanly,” Isabel said. “He holds the door open for me when we go into places. Mike never did that.”

  “That’s great,” Rory said, staring at her food.

  “He never leaves my side when we’re in a crowded place together. He asks about my day.”

  “That’s amazing,” Rory said, poking at some pasta with her fork.

  “And I can tell he really respects me,” Isabel said. “I was sort of worried, because things have started off so slow. But now, I know that that’s a good thing. And I can tell that he really likes you, too.”

  “He does?” Rory asked, looking up from her plate.

  “Yeah. He doesn’t know that many people here, and I think he’d like to be friends with you. You know, hang out sometime, even if I’m not there. Would you be into that?”

  Rory kept her eyes on the food. “Sure.”

  “I’ll give him your number, then.”

  Rory stood up suddenly and took her plate to the sink.

  “You’re not hungry?” Isabel asked.

  “I had a pretty big lunch. Your mom and I went out for a while.”

  “You did?” Isabel said.

  “I think she wanted to talk to someone about this party she’s planning.” Rory walked back to the table. “She also wanted to know if you’re seeing someone.”

  Isabel rolled her eyes. “She would.”

  “I told her I didn’t know. I don’t think she believed me.”

  “Right. Because it’s all about the guy that I’m seeing. He’s the problem.”

  “So Mike wasn’t a problem?” Rory teased.

  “Mike was a waste of time, that’s what he was.”

  The swinging door opened, and Connor entered with his duffel bag. It had only been two days, but he seemed thinner, more drawn, than before he’d left. Isabel wondered if her dad had any food at his house.

  He looked from one to the other of them and slowly put his bag on the floor. “Hey,” he said. “What’s everyone doing?”

  “Eating,” Isabel said. “What does it look like?”

  Rory didn’t move. “You’re back early.”

  “Yeah, well, there are only so many conversations you can have with your dad about sand traps and business school.” Connor walked over to Rory and put his arms around her.

  Isabel watched Rory kiss him back, but as slightly as possible.

  “So you guys went out to Montauk last night,” he said. “How was it? Fun?”

  “Yeah, it was nice,” Rory said.

  “I still can’t believe you went off to Dad’s house and left Rory here alone,” Isabel said casually. “Talk about rude.”

  “Isabel, don’t,” Rory said.

  “No, it is. Totally rude.”

  “I’m not the only one,” Connor said, his face darkening. “Dad said he’s sent you, like, four e-mails asking you to come by. And you haven’t responded to one of them. Now who’s being rude?”

  “I don’t owe Dad a thing,” Isabel said.

  “How can you say that? Do you hear how crazy that is?” Connor’s face was turning slightly pink. “He’s your father.”

  “Hate to say it, but you’re living in a fantasy world, Con,” Isabel said. “It’s time to wake up.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Connor asked.

  “Okay, okay,” Rory said, coming to Connor’s side. “Everyone calm down.”

  “I’m totally calm,” Isabel said coolly. She stood up and barged out of the r
oom, letting the door swing back and forth in vast, rapid motions in her wake.

  Rory stood across from Connor, wondering how to explain Isabel’s comment to him.

  “Every time I think she’s getting better, it’s like she does a one eighty all over again,” he said, looking at the swinging door. “How much longer is she going to act like this? Like everyone in the world is against her?”

  Rory gently took his arm. “She’s only saying that stuff because she cares about you.”

  “Huh? Where do you get that?” Connor asked.

  “It’s a little hard to explain,” she said.

  “Whatever,” Connor said, shaking his head. He let out a deep breath, and the flushed color went out of his face. “I’ve been trying to figure out my sister for years. When am I going to learn that I can’t? She wants to be misunderstood. It’s her whole reason for living.” He ran a hand through his hair and smiled ruefully.

  “So, how was it at your dad’s house?” she asked, hoping to get off the subject of Isabel.

  “Good,” Connor said, dropping into a chair. “But a little weird, too. He’s turned into some kind of groovy bachelor dude. It’s a little bizarre.”

  “Huh.”

  “You really wouldn’t have had a good time,” he said. He put his arms around her. “I’m sorry I left you all alone.”

  “I haven’t been all alone,” she said, nestling herself into his shoulder. “Isabel has been here. And your mom.”

  “My mom?” Connor asked.

  “Yeah. Now all of a sudden we’re best buddies.”

  “I told you she likes you.”

  “I’m not sure if I want to be best buddies with your mom, Connor,” she said. “No offense.”

  “That’s okay,” he said, touching her cheek. He gazed into her eyes. “You look really pretty.”

  They kissed, but there was no more light, rubbery feeling in the backs of her knees. She didn’t feel her stomach turn over. It was almost routine, as if they were an old married couple. She held the kiss for as long as she could, and then she pulled away.

  “Do you want to go upstairs? Help me unpack?” he asked, pulling her closer to him.