The Seacrest

by Aaron Lazar

  “Why would I mind?”

  She looked lost again. “Ian wouldn’t go. He said it was for wimps and weaklings who liked to snivel about their problems.”

  I tucked my finger under her chin and raised her eyes to mine. “That’s because he thought your therapist would find out what a monster he was. It was just an excuse to keep your awful secret.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she said, running her hand up and down my arm.

  “Of course I am. Now, change of subject. Will you help me move my stuff to the farm tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” A flicker of worry crossed her face.

  “No worries. I’ve decided it’s time. But I’ll see you all the time. Every day. And you can stay there with me at night if you want. Or all day long. Or whatever you’re comfortable with.”

  She gave a tentative smile. “Okay.”

  She backed off my lap and leaned down to kiss me between my legs. My body jumped to attention, eager and ready to perform again. I groaned. “Oh, Lib.”

  “One more time, okay?” she asked, as if I wouldn’t agree to one hundred and one times.

  I moaned with pleasure. “Libby, you’re killing me. But don’t stop…”

  “Shush up, now. I’m concentrating here.”

  “Okay, love.” I let her take over my body and soul, happier than I’d been in sixteen years, wondering what I did to deserve this level of bliss. “I surrender.”

  Chapter 48

  May 15th, 1998

  Prom Night, 11:00 P.M.

  I ended up driving toward Paine’s Creek Beach—whether out of habit, or because I yearned for Libby so much—I wasn’t sure.

  Jenna was all for it. She tossed her high heels into the back of my Mustang, unpinned her purple flower, stripped off her pantyhose, and shucked out of the petticoat that had fluffed up the dress, running toward the beach in her bare feet.

  I undid the laces on my black dress shoes, took off my socks, and rolled up my pant legs, shedding the jacket and shirt as well. With a lighter heart, I followed her to the shore.

  “Now you look more presentable, Mr. McGraw,” she laughed.

  “I feel more like myself this way, that’s for sure.”

  We walked in the surf, talking about love and loss and finally, about her attraction to women.

  “That’s cool,” I said. “I hope you find someone soon.”

  “It’s not so cool in high school. I don’t think there’s one gay kid in our class.”

  “Really? There probably is, but they’re just as nervous about coming out as you are.”

  “I guess. Maybe. I kind of wondered about Robby Bolson.”

  “He could be.”

  “I’m still nervous to approach anyone. Our school is so small. Even though this is 1998 and we should all be okay with it.”

  “I’d back you up. We can hang out, if you want. I’ll support you all the way.”

  She turned to me with a genuine smile, her eyes awash with gratitude. “Thanks, Finn. I appreciate it.”

  I picked up a rock and chucked it into the water. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

  “No. I went to Provincetown once to hang out, but I was too nervous to approach anyone. And too young to get into any of the clubs.” She paused and looked toward the sea. “It’ll probably happen in college, like I said. That’s where you get to be yourself, let yourself just go free.”

  “Have you told your parents yet?”

  “Just my dad. He’s cool with it. But my mom is too country-club, if you know what I mean.” She danced in the surf, twirling around and nearly falling. “Ha. You’d think I’d been drinking all night.”

  “The kids from the prom will be drinking like crazy tonight, that’s for sure.”

  “Wish we had some beer or wine,” she mused. “But it’s no big deal.”

  “We have the moon and stars,” I said, gesturing to the black velvet sky pinpricked with white lights. I stopped, shook my head. “Boy, that was a pretty nerdy thing to say.”

  “No it wasn’t. You’re a romantic, Finn. A rare bird, to tell the truth. I can’t believe your girlfriend left you. It’s her loss, that’s for sure.”

  We started walking again. I tried to explain how it had happened, almost overnight, and she helped me wonder what might have driven Libby to leave me without giving me a chance to explain myself.

  “Somebody had to have said something to her. Or she heard about something, and assumed they were talking about you.”

  “Yeah. I guess. It had to be really bad, though. Like I murdered someone. Or something like that.”

  “Yeah. Or maybe she thought you were an alien, come to take over her brain.”

  I laughed, kicking in the surf. “Yeah. Or…” The cove came into view and I stopped, staring. “Oh, crud.”

  She slipped an arm through mine. “What’s wrong?”

  I stared at the spot that had been so magical for Libby and me. “That’s where we used to go. To be alone. Where we first…”

  She looked toward the cove with interest. “Wow. Was it absolutely amazing?”

  My voice dropped to a gravely whisper. “The most wonderful experience of my life. Too hard to put into words. Like flying, or seeing God.”

  She stood beside me, as if imagining it. “Cool.”

  We were quiet for a while, and finally she asked, “Is she pretty?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Long brown hair. Big, dark eyes. Heart-shaped face.” I sighed. “So lovely. Sort of reminded me of a ballerina, in a way.”

  She let out a long breath. “Oh, she sounds wonderful.”

  “I met her here on the beach, in the daytime. She was with her dad, and I was with my grandfather. We played with a beach ball.” I pointed down the beach. “Just over there. She was a riot. I nicknamed her Sassy, and it fit her so well. You would have liked her, Jenna. She didn’t put up with crap from anyone. And she didn’t use her position to flaunt it over everyone, you know? Actually, she was kind of embarrassed about having money.”

  It was at that moment I revealed Libby’s name.

  Jenna’s jaw dropped. “Whoa. Elizabeth Vanderhorn? Seriously?”

  “Yep.” I started to walk back toward the car. “Seriously.”

  She whistled long and low. “That does complicate things.”

  I turned to her, confused. “Why?”

  Very gently, she said, “You’re from two different worlds, Finn. Completely different worlds.”

  “So?”

  “I’m not saying you couldn’t make it work. But, man. Her father is like…like royalty around here.”

  “I know. He hates my guts.”

  She flashed a wry smile. “My point, exactly.”

  We headed back to the car, my heart heavier than before, and my hopes of ever getting Libby back dimming with every step.

  Chapter 49

  July 21th, 2013

  9:05 A.M.

  I backed the U-Haul trailer up to the farmhouse.

  “A little more,” Libby shouted, motioning with her hands for me to keep going. “About two more feet.”

  I followed her directions and braked when she held up a hand for me to stop.

  “That’s it, stop there.” She put one hand on her hip and smiled at me in the side mirrors. “Nice job.”

  Ace and I jumped out of the rental truck cab. I strolled around to the back of the truck and slid up the back door. I really hadn’t needed so much space. After realizing I didn’t need any of the cottage furniture Cora and I had bought at estate sales over the years (where would I put it?), I’d decided to donate most the furnishings to my yet-to-be chosen replacement stable hand/gardener at The Seacrest, and had packed up my books and old records; easel, brushes, and paints; sheets and towels, clothes and shoes; and all of Ace’s toys. My brand new king-sized bed had already been delivered and set up in the room I’d chosen as my new bedroom. After thinking about it, I couldn’t imagine sleeping in the same bed that Jax had used to seduce Cora, or the bed she and
I had shared.

  Ace’s oversized sheepskin bed was tucked in the corner of the truck bed, and he promptly jumped up to sniff it.

  “Don’t worry, boy. That’s the first thing we’ll set up.”

  Libby laughed, lacing her fingers through mine. “He’s pretty excited.”

  I hugged her sideways. “Yeah. He seems to feel right at home here.”

  We each carried boxes into the house, and she helped me figure out where to store them. We put Ace’s bed in my room, though I figured he’d probably end up with me on my bed, as usual, at least when Libby wasn’t sharing it with me. In turn, I boxed up some of Jax’s things I no longer wanted to see laying around the house, like his collection of X-rated movies and magazines and his car models he’d built as a child. By the time the day was nearly over, we’d piled seventeen boxes of Jax’s clothes and belongings in the attic.

  I didn’t have the gumption to throw them away or donate them yet, so they’d stay in the attic for a while. Maybe forever.

  I’d gone through the office that used to be my parents’ bedroom, setting up my own computer next to Jax’s. His hardware was much newer, and I planned to transfer my files to his laptop, then save my old PC as a backup.

  Libby came up behind me. “I made up your new bed with fresh linens.”

  “Thanks. Should we try it out?” I shot her a lascivious smile.

  She grabbed my face between her hands and kissed me. “Oh, Finn. You’re hopeless! Pizza. Then showers. Then bed.”

  I frowned. “I guess I can wait. But it won’t be easy.”

  “I’ll call Fritzi and my father to break the news to them.”

  “Think he’ll mind that we’re…er…together?”

  “I don’t care if he does. I’m spending the night, and there’s nothing more to discuss.”

  Desire rose through me suddenly, rocking me in my seat. It shocked me with its intensity, draining every ounce of control and transforming me into a surging sexual animal. “Why not shower, pizza, then bed?” I said, my voice husky. “We can shower together.”

  She cocked her head at me, glancing down at my body that betrayed me whenever she was around. “Hmm. You’ve still got energy, after moving all day?”

  I reached up and pulled her down to kiss me again. “With you around, I’m perpetually energetic.”

  She laughed. “I noticed.”

  It happened again, as we two-stepped, kissing fervently, toward the bathroom, shedding clothes as we went. I started the warm water running, and was thrilled to discover Jax had installed some kind of fancy waterspouts that shot water from the sides of the shower as well as the top. A plastic slatted seat was built into one corner of the huge enclosure, and before long I was sitting on it with Libby astride me, lathering her breasts, arms, back, and legs at the same time we rose up and down, me deep inside her and wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever.

  We went about it slowly, leisurely, and when it was over, I felt like I might collapse to the floor in a weak puddle of spent desire. She stayed on me, still holding me inside her, her head resting on my shoulder.

  “Finn. My God.” She breathed hard, a wide smile on her face.

  I rubbed her back with my hands, still massaging her soapy skin in small circles. “I know. We fit together so well, don’t we? In every sense of the word?”

  “We’ve picked up right where we left off. I still can’t believe it.”

  Her cell phone rang, but we ignored it, sitting for yet another ten minutes under the warm spray, enjoying the squeezing, pulsing sensations that came after making love.

  When we finally separated, we dried off and she rummaged in her backpack for a silky flowered sundress that made me think of our summery teen years together. We wandered back to the office, where I turned on Jax’s computer screen again.

  “I thought maybe I’d learn more about him and Cora from email. But the one he left open here is just business stuff.”

  She pulled up a chair beside me. “Maybe he has two accounts? One for business, one for…other stuff.”

  “Maybe.” I scrolled through the folders and apps, noticing he had both the Google Chrome and Mozilla Firefox browsers downloaded. I’d found his gmail account. But maybe there was another one?

  She leaned over and lifted the laptop, glancing underneath it. “I wonder if he hides his passwords somewhere?”

  There was nothing taped to the bottom of or lying beneath the laptop. But when we opened the drawer to the desk, she found a file folder taped to the bottom of the drawer.

  “Oldest trick in the book,” she said.

  We scanned the list, and I noticed he had—as she’d suspected—several email accounts. I hadn’t seen the Yahoo account before, and opened it while she read the password to me.

  “Um, the password is Cora123.”

  I sighed, felt angry again, and typed the letters. “Of course it is.”

  And there they were, sitting in his inbox, hundreds and hundreds of emails from her. Her account—Corabell456—was one I hadn’t ever seen, a Gmail account.

  “Corabell?” she said.

  “Yeah. Strange. I never called her that.”

  “Maybe it was his nickname for her?”

  “Maybe.”

  I opened the most recent note, and wasn’t surprised that it involved setting up a tryst together the night before they died. The last sentence read, “Finn’s been falling asleep earlier and earlier. I’ll text you when he’s out.”

  My shoulders slumped, and Libby rubbed them, standing behind me now. “What a bitch,” she said.

  “I can’t believe she waited every night for me to fall asleep. Cripes.”

  “Was this the night before they died?” she asked.

  “I think so. Next morning she went to ‘class,’ or so she said.”

  “But she didn’t?”

  “I’m not sure she was even enrolled, tell the truth.”

  “Whoa. Really?”

  “I’m gonna check it out. Now I feel like I want to know everything, uncover every stone. I just…I need to know.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  I went to open the next email when Libby’s phone rang again.

  “Drat. It’s Dad.” She flipped it open and listened. “What?” She listened and mumbled into the phone. “I’ll be right home.” She hung up, but didn’t move.

  “What’s wrong, Lib?”

  She didn’t speak and her face drained of all color. She stood up, then swayed toward me.

  “Whoa! What did he say?”

  I jumped up and settled her on my chair, bringing her a paper cup full of water from the bathroom. “Here you go.”

  She took it with trembling hands. “Thanks.”

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She took another sip. “Uh huh. I kinda did.”

  I gave her time, waiting for her to offer it up.

  She sighed deep and long, looking out the window. “He’s back.”

  My heart sank. I had a really bad feeling about this. “Who’s back?”

  Tears began to trace her cheeks. “Ian. They located him in an Afghanistan hospital, and he’s being shipped home. He’s arriving in three days.”

  PART II

  Secrets and Sorrow

  Chapter 50

  June 21st, 2001

  5:30 A.M.

  I woke to the feeling of little fingers tickling my feet and a tiny voice giggling beneath the blankets. I groaned, rolled over, and noticed Eva’s legs and body not quite covered, sticking out at the foot of the bed.

  “Hey,” I mumbled. “Who’s that tickling my feet?”

  Another giggle and more tickling.

  I sat up, leaned toward her, and swooped my little sister into my arms, cuddling her and blowing raspberries on her belly when her pajama top rode up. “Take that, you little monkey.”

  She raised big green eyes to me. The pure childlike love in them melted my heart.

  “You git up, Finn. You pway
wid me.”

  “Okay, okay.” I glanced at the clock. Only 5:30. Even my parents weren’t up yet.

  Eva had been climbing out of her crib regularly, since she turned three. I glanced over to Jax’s empty bed, abandoned since he joined the Navy several years earlier. Now, after serving for the shortest term possible, he was going to school on the Navy’s dime, learning about accounting and finances and things that bored the hell out of me, at none other than NYU, one of the most expensive schools in the northeast.

  I’d just finished my second year at the local community college, trying to save money. But the art department there was pretty lame, and I was scheduled to transfer to Brown University in Providence in the fall. Another not-so-cheap program, but my parents had insisted I follow my dreams and had co-signed the loans without batting an eye.

  “Git up,” Eva said. “Pway wid me.”

  “Okay, let me get changed first, honey.” After I used the bathroom and changed into shorts and a tee shirt, I opened the door to her expectant face and she watched me brush my teeth.

  “Me, too,” she said, her face shining.

  I helped her put My Little Pony toothpaste on her pink Barbie toothbrush, and held her steady while she stood on the bathroom chair and leaned over the sink.

  “Good job, little one.”

  She hopped off the chair and we headed down to the kitchen, where I made us scrambled eggs while she assembled her dolls and ponies for us to play with in the living room.

  She did a good job cleaning her plate—I made sure to add plenty of cheese to her eggs—and when I’d rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher, I followed her to the group of dolls she’d assembled in the living room. There they lay, Barbies, Disney princesses, ponies, stuffed animals, and even a princess castle made of pink plastic parts that snapped together. I recognized them all.

  “Who do you want to be, Eva?” I asked, knowing full well she’d choose all the girl dolls and most of the ponies.

  “Arial,” she said firmly. “You be Pwince Ewic.”

  And from there it went on and on. She picked. I picked. Finally, when we had our troops amassed, we began to act out scenes Eva imagined in her sweet little brain. Most of them seemed like Disney spinoffs, and the time flew by.