by Mary Carter
Bailey and Brad hadn’t even discussed pets. They were both animal lovers, but this was a business. Was a large, somewhat sullen-looking German shepherd a good or bad thing?
“Is he house trained?” Bailey asked.
“He’s way better than me,” Daniel said with a wink. And so much for there not being couples. There were two young couples in the group. Sheila and Chris, and Kimmy and Ray. Sheila and Chris held hands. Chris wore a T-shirt that read: MY WIFE WENT TO HEAVEN AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT. He grinned when he saw Bailey reading it. Kimmy and Ray didn’t look so loving, or happy. Kimmy looked shell-shocked and Ray looked like the one who had just tossed the grenade.
“We told him not to bring the dog,” Kimmy said. She pointed at Tree in case there was any confusion. Her voice was timid and shaking. Yet she held her chin up and clearly enunciated every word.
“And I told you,” Daniel said, “not to bring the husband.” He threw his head back and laughed.
“Ray doesn’t like dogs,” Kimmy said. Ray lifted his shirt. A large scar cut across his stomach.
“Doberman pinscher,” he said.
Vera held up her index finger. “Pencil sharpener,” she said. “Third grade. Stuck my finger in there on a dare. Hurt like a motherfeather.”
“Is this show-and-tell?” Chris said. “Because I don’t think you want to see mine.” He winked and pointed to his groin.
Bailey wished Brad would come down from the tower.
“Tree doesn’t bite,” Daniel said.
“Tree barks,” Chris said. “Get it? Like tree bark?”
“They get it, honey,” Sheila said.
“Wow, tough crowd. You’d think people just back from the dead would appreciate a little humor.”
“Chris,” Sheila said.
“You with me, buddy?” Chris said to Ray.
“I’m not your buddy, dude,” Ray said. He leaned over and whispered something to Kimmy.
“Can we go to our room now?” Kimmy said.
Daniel shook his head. “We’re sleeping outside,” he said. “And next year no spouses means no spouses.”
“And no dogs means no dogs,” Kimmy whispered.
“Did you say you’re sleeping outside?” Bailey said. Daniel turned around. Strapped to his back, folded like a large hot dog, was what Bailey assumed was a tent. “Under the stars,” he added. “Close to the essence.” Vera heaved a bag of her own on top of the little antique table Bailey used as a desk. It barely fit. She opened it up and began pulling out locks and chains. The rest of the group moved in slightly to have a look.
“This is for the fridge,” she said, holding up the largest lock. “And there are several more for the cupboards.” Bailey didn’t mean to laugh, but she truly thought it was some kind of a joke.
“I’m a sleep-eater,” Vera said. “You must lock up all food products.”
“Of course,” Bailey said. “We strive to accommodate every-one.”
“What if somebody else wants a little snack?” Chris said. “Are you going to make copies of the keys?”
“Absolutely not,” Vera said. “Our keeper here will have the only keys.”
“I’d rather you not call me your keeper,” Bailey said. It made her sound as if she worked at a zoo. On the other hand, maybe that’s what they should call her.
“You can get a snack before I lock everything up,” Bailey told Chris. What was she saying? This was a bed-and-breakfast. Not a bed, breakfast, and snacks. “Or you can buy your own snacks in town,” she added. “Island Supplies.”
“You must keep them locked between midnight and six A.M. every single night,” Vera said.
“Of course,” Bailey said. “We once had a guest who only ate cake at night,” she added. None of them seemed impressed. Bailey let each couple have their own room, Daniel headed outside to pitch his tent, and that left Angel and Vera to share a room. They were booked solid. Bailey turned the sign to NO VACANCY. We’re full up, she thought. And totally broke. What with feeding them, and cleaning up after them, and locking up after them, and apparently giving them snacks, their guests were actually going to cost them money. Oh, well. Maybe it would be good publicity. Besides, they needed the practice. And really, how much could guests complain if everything was free?
PLEASE SIGN OUR GUEST BOOK!
The water pressure in the shower is low.
I can’t believe we have to share a bathroom. Someone left wet towels on the floor.
The hostess didn’t seem happy to see us.
I heard the fridge is going to be locked at night. Isn’t that a bit extreme?
There is a draft in the attic. And where is the music coming from? Sounds like a child’s music box. I hope it doesn’t play all night long.
Bailey didn’t even get a minute to talk to Brad alone. He spent the afternoon with the group, then they had dinner on the patio. Their first barbecue. In the few weeks that Bailey was in Manhattan, Brad purchased a deluxe grill set that was at least four feet long. Bailey wondered what it cost him. They were both keeping things from each other. Secretly purchasing items, inviting guests behind each other’s backs, even changing around décor. A picture Bailey bought in the antique store, a black-and-white photograph of the main street in the 1800s, had been moved. Bailey hung it on one side of the fireplace, and behind her back Brad moved it to the other. She didn’t bother mentioning it, although it struck her as a petty thing for him to do. In the past he might have done it as a joke, but Bailey had waited and waited for him to mention it, but he never did. Although given that he’d let go of the nautical theme (bar little blue glass bowls of seashells in the bathroom), she didn’t even mention the switch.
And she would’ve been fine with him purchasing the grill too. Of course they needed a grill for their back deck. And didn’t men who liked to barbecue also like children running around in the backyard and coaching Little League games? Maybe Brad just needed to ease into being a father. First came the house, then came the barbecues, and maybe the babies would follow. Luckily, the deck already came with two picnic tables that were rusty, but otherwise in decent shape. Bailey painted them evergreen. Then she bought two potted rosebushes, several tomato plants, and little pots of herbs that she positioned around the deck. They also purchased little white lights at the hardware store in town and Brad strung them along the side of the house and across the deck, attached to a tree on the other side. It was pretty. The mosquitoes, however, were not. There was always something. Everything good in life came with a little sting, or several little bites. It was just the yin and yang of the world, Bailey supposed. Fortunately, several well-placed citronella candles seemed to be doing the trick. If not, Bailey was sure she’d read about it in the guest book.
Dinner was simple. Hot dogs, hamburgers, and veggie burgers for Daniel. Bailey bought thick homemade buns in town, made potato salad, and bought coleslaw. They had bags of chips, and sodas and wines. Just adding up the cost of dinner irritated Bailey. How could he have invited them for free? Vera was eyeing the large cooler.
“You’ll have to put a lock on that as well,” she said.
“It’s just raw meat,” Bailey said.
“I once ate twelve sticks of butter,” Vera said.
“I’ll lock it,” Bailey said. After dinner they held a group meeting on the deck. Before it began, Brad took Bailey aside.
“Ray is going to be a problem,” he said. Bailey glanced over. He was wearing the same scowl from this morning. He and Kimmy sat as far from the group as possible. “Maybe you could take him for a walk,” he said.
“Along with Tree?” Bailey said.
“Fantastic,” Brad said. She was being sarcastic. He used to know her sarcasm as well as he knew his own.
“Ray hates dogs,” she said.
“Then leave the dog,” Brad said. Bailey shook her head. She was going to leave the dog but walk one of their guests. At least Tree looked content, sprawled out underneath one of the picnic tables, waiting eagerly for scra
ps to drop. Bailey walked over to Ray and Kimmy.
“I’m skipping the group meeting,” she said. “Going for a walk.” The couple just looked at her. “Ray,” she said. “Would you like to join me?” To Bailey’s surprise, he jumped up and a look of pure relief crossed over Kimmy’s face.
“Sold,” he said.
They skipped rocks. They walked along the shore. Bailey didn’t try and make conversation, and Ray seemed to appreciate it. She wondered what the group was talking about. Sharing their experiences, most likely. But hadn’t they already done that online? As the sun slipped lower into the sky, ships began to disappear and a sprinkle of stars began to show their first light.
“I hate this,” Ray said. “I hate all of it.”
“You mean the group thing?”
“The group thing. The nosy neighbors. The look that comes over her face when she talks about it.”
“What happened to her?” Bailey couldn’t help it. Guess she was one of the nosy ones. Ray didn’t seem to mind.
“Car accident.”
“Brad too,” Bailey said.
“Were you driving?”
“No,” Bailey said. “God, no. Thank God.”
“I was driving,” Ray said.
“Oh,” Bailey said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Ray held up his hand. “It’s all right. I wasn’t at fault. Some asshole out of nowhere. Turned headfirst into us.”
“Oh my God.”
“It was a couple of years ago. Physically, we’re healed. But she’s never been the same.”
Never? Bailey thought. Years?
“It’s like she’s half in this world, half in the next. It makes me so damn angry.”
“I’m surprised you wanted to come,” Bailey said quietly.
“She tricked me,” Ray said. “Didn’t know it was a group thing until we arrived at the ferry.”
“Oh, boy,” Bailey said. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m getting used to it,” Ray said. “She’s sneaky now. Never used to be. But she sure is now.” At least she didn’t buy a lighthouse behind your back. Bailey bit back the words. She wasn’t going to start complaining about her husband to total strangers. Ray took a silver flask out of his pocket and drank. He offered it to Bailey. She shook her head. He took a rolled cigarette out of his pocket. “Do you mind?”
“Is it . . . ?”
“It’s the good stuff,” he said. He held out his arms. “Perfect environment for it.” When he offered her a drag, she didn’t refuse. She hadn’t been high since she and Brad were in Amsterdam. All those years ago.
They sat near the river, on a patch of grass by the rocks. It was so peaceful out here. Still, she wondered what was going on at the “meeting.” When the light from the tower swept through, they could see a man walking toward them. It wasn’t until he was right on them that Bailey recognized him.
“Chris,” she said. “Please, join us.”
“Is that what I think it is?” He pointed to the joint. Ray held it out. “Thanks.” He took a seat next to them.
“What are they doing?” Bailey asked.
“Comparing stories,” Chris said. “It’s a little much.” Bailey and Ray laughed.
“We were just talking about that,” Bailey said.
“I’ve never doubted her story,” Chris said. “I believe every word of it. But . . .” He stopped, passed the joint back to Ray. Ray handed it to Bailey.
“Feel free,” Bailey said. “We’ve been there.”
“It’s all she ever talks about anymore. And it’s been three years. You’d think she would have—I don’t know. Moved on by now. But it’s like she’s gone off to war, and now she’s home—but she wants to go back. I mean—I’m not even looking forward to heaven. What do I know about fluffy clouds, and harps, and floating around all day. I’d go fucking crazy.”
“Is that what she saw? Harps and fluffy clouds?” Bailey was glad Ray asked it so she didn’t have to.
“Not exactly. She did go through a tunnel. Then she saw her grandmother. She told her to go back. It wasn’t her time. She had things to do.”
“And?” Bailey said, sensing there was more to the story.
“She’s going nuts trying to figure out what her purpose is. It’s absolutely tormenting her. Like she’s been given super powers, only she doesn’t know what to do with them or who she’s supposed to save.”
“Survivor’s guilt,” Bailey said.
“Huh?” Ray said.
“They have survivor’s guilt. They’ve been ‘saved.’ Given a second chance. Come back to life. Now they think they owe somebody something for that. But they don’t know who to make the check out to or how much it’s supposed to cost them.” Intellectually, Bailey understood Brad felt guilty, but she thought it was all about Aunt Olivia. But how would she feel if she’d died and come back? She already felt guilty for living such a nice life when others were born into lives, and countries, and cultures where they had nothing. Where the goal of day-today life was to get through it alive.
Was it just dumb luck that some people had it easy and others had to struggle? And wouldn’t that feeling of guilt be even stronger if she actually did almost die and then was given another chance? She would probably feel exactly like Brad did. She would be struggling, trying to prove her worth in the world. Maybe it was just the pot, maybe it was having others around who were going through the same thing, but in that moment, she felt she understood what Brad was really going through. It made her love him all the more, made her want to do everything she could to assure him he deserved to live.
“I’m just so grateful that she’s alive,” Chris said. “I don’t have a right to complain about anything.”
“And that’s our burden to bear,” Bailey said. The three fell quiet again and simply passed the joint around. This night was meant to be, Bailey thought. It’s going to bring me and Brad closer than ever. I’m going to be the most understanding, supportive, loving wife ever.
“You must be especially bummed,” Chris said to Bailey.
“Why’s that?” Bailey said. Because my husband bought a lighthouse behind my back?
“You know,” Chris said. “Because when the voice told him he had a choice—”
“Wait,” Ray interrupted. “What voice?”
“God? I don’t know. It sure wasn’t his grandmother. He said he saw this incredible light—”
The most incredible love he’s ever felt. . . .
Chris turned to Bailey. “Sorry, you’ve probably heard this a million times.”
“Go on,” Bailey said.
Chris directed the rest of the story to Ray. “While he was in the light, he heard this male voice. It told him he could either stay or go back—it was his choice. Only he didn’t want to go back. In fact, there was only one thing he was tempted to go back for. And it wasn’t even his wife. It was his shoes.”
Bailey, who had just taken a big draw on the joint, began to choke. The men stared at her, waiting for her to finish, waiting for a reaction. She hoped she wasn’t showing one. Finally, Chris patted her on the back, and she was able to get it somewhat under control. As under control as someone who felt absolutely sick could be. Worse, she was high, and she desperately wanted to be sober. How could she handle this news high? His shoes? He didn’t want to come back for her, he came back for his shoes? Was it true? Was that what he was telling people? People as in everyone but her? I came back for you, he told her. I came back for you. Bailey let out a nervous little laugh.
“Seriously?” Ray said, still staring at Bailey. “Are you serious?”
“I feel for you,” Chris said to Bailey. “It would have killed me if my wife had said something like that.”
“That’s beyond painful, man,” Ray agreed. “His fucking shoes?” He looked at Bailey again. “Is he Arab?” He was waiting for Bailey to say something. She couldn’t. She’d lost the ability to speak. He turned to Chris. “Don’t Arabs worship shoes or something?”
&n
bsp; “It’s the opposite,” Chris said. “Shoes are an insult. If you throw them at somebody.”
Bailey looked at the ground. If she threw something now it would have to be a lot heavier than a shoe. Maybe if she looked at the ground hard enough, they would just go away. Maybe she would go away. She would float off to another world and feel love like she’d never felt before, and not care about anyone or anything on earth. And if she did care about anything, if she did want to come back, she only knew one thing for sure. It wouldn’t be for a pair of shoes.
A sharp pain in her heart. The telltale sign of unstoppable tears. She held herself in. She would not cry in front of her guests. In the future—note to self—she wouldn’t take them for walks, and she probably shouldn’t smoke pot with them either. But it was too late. What was done was done. She couldn’t change anything. Nothing she did to Chris could take back the story that came out of his mouth. She could rip his stupid T-shirt off and shove it down his throat and it still wouldn’t change things.
She jabbed at the ground. The joint was already out, crushed. She reached for it and tried to unfold it into something she could light. Her hands shook. She dropped it the first three times she tried to pick it up. She felt as if her insides were going to fall out. She asked Ray for a lighter. But he was too entranced in the story.
“His shoes?” Ray said again. Were they really still talking about this? Wasn’t it time to stop? Bailey really wanted them to stop. If only she could get her tongue to work. It was the pot, it was turning their conversation into the movie Groundhog Day.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “I guess he had just bought new shoes, and it was the only thing he was tempted to go back for. But nothing else mattered anymore.”
“Ouch,” Ray said.
“But that’s what the group is for, right? To say those horrific things they’ve been keeping bottled up inside them. I mean, obviously, the two of you have worked through that, right?” Chris said. He glanced at Bailey.