Edgewater

by Courtney Sheinmel

  I smiled. “It was my mom’s,” I explained.

  “Was,” he repeated. “Oh, shit.” He looked to the coffin picture and back to me. “I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”

  “No, no,” I said. “My mom’s fine. She’s alive and well.”

  “You guys are close?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Charlie raised an eyebrow.

  “My sister can do that,” I told him.

  “What?”

  “Raise one eyebrow. When I was a kid, I practiced in front of the mirror for about a hundred hours. I couldn’t do it.”

  “My dad can do it, too,” he said. “It’s genetic.”

  “I know that now,” I said.

  “So, which of your parents can raise an eyebrow, and which can’t?”

  I shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you.”

  There went Charlie’s eyebrow again.

  “My mom and I, well, we have a birthday-card and holiday-card kind of relationship.” That was the line I often gave to explain Mom away. Though at this point the cards had all but disappeared. “And my dad left a long time ago.”

  Now Charlie’s expression was full of pity. God, why couldn’t Lennox finish her call already and get me out of this conversation?

  “It’s not a big deal,” I assured him. “I don’t remember him. I don’t even have his last name.”

  He’d had a drinking problem, my father. I was fuzzy on the details, on account of being so young when he’d fallen off the wagon and left us behind. Mom had changed our last name back to her maiden name, because that’s how incidental he was.

  “So, who do you live with?” Charlie asked.

  “During the school year I go to Hillyer, and on vacations I stay here with my aunt.”

  “Do you miss your parents?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think parents should automatically be the center of their kids’ worlds simply because they produced them. I think they need to prove themselves, like in any other job. My mom proved she’s not such a good mom, and my dad proved he’s not a good dad. Why should I miss them?”

  “That’s fascinating,” he said. I made a face. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Believe me, I know what it’s like when people think your life is fascinating and you just think it’s your own shitty life. What I meant was, the way you talk about what happened to you, it’s really fascinating.”

  “I hate talking about my family,” I admitted.

  “Oh, come on. You know all about mine.”

  “That’s different,” I told him.

  “Why? Because everyone does?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I like your honesty,” he said. “You’re a cool girl, Lorrie. And your parents are crazy for not wanting to be a bigger part of your life.”

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “I mean it, and I’ve officially decided to hate them both on your behalf. I hope I never meet them.”

  My last memory of my mother was her leaving Edgewater to go to that party at the Copelands’, on Gigi’s thirtieth birthday, after we’d dropped off the cake. Mom’s usually stick-straight hair was in waves like a Botticelli angel’s. She was wearing a new dress, long and white, gauzy and ethereal. I didn’t want her to go, and I actually attached myself to her leg in an effort to make her stay. It was as if I’d known in advance that I wasn’t ever going to see her again. But of course that’s the kind of thing you think in retrospect. It’s not as if I really had any sort of premonition. Mom put her watch on my wrist and told me I could stay up an extra half hour and keep track of my bedtime myself. Then she called to the babysitter to take me from her.

  Certainly that night was unremarkable for Charlie; his parents always had parties, and he always had both of them back when the parties were over. It was possible Charlie had already met my mom, that night, a random woman in a beautiful dress. But he wouldn’t remember, and she wasn’t around to ask.

  “The thing is,” Charlie went on, “I know practically everything there is to know about my father, and my grandfather, and his grandfather. Hell, anyone with a library card can get all that information if they want. Sometimes I fantasize about knowing a little bit less. I know you said you don’t miss your parents, and maybe you mean that. But just in case you have mixed feelings on it, I’m here to tell you, the whole family thing, it can be a bit overrated.”

  I had to hand it to Charlie Copeland. He wasn’t at all like I expected him to be. “Thanks,” I said.

  “So you live with your aunt, huh? She have any kids of her own?”

  “Nope, just me and my sister.”

  “Your sister who can raise an eyebrow?”

  “That’s the one,” I said. “Is that fascinating, too?”

  “It is for someone who’s spent his whole life as an only child. I always wanted a sibling, just to have someone who could roll his eyes along with me whenever my parents did something insufferable. We’d suffer together, you know?”

  “Safety in numbers.”

  “Exactly,” he said.

  “Susannah and I are really different,” I said.

  “I guess that happens.” He paused. “Any pets?”

  “Just my horse.” As far as I was concerned, Orion was my only pet. If it were up to me, I’d serve every cat and critter making their home at Edgewater their eviction notices.

  “You’re a horse girl. I should’ve known.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I knew he couldn’t smell it on me. I’d only spent twenty minutes at Oceanfront and I hadn’t even mounted a horse. Besides, I’d taken a shower after. I was certain I didn’t have so much as a single piece of hay on me. I missed it, too. The barn smells, the stray pieces of hay—they were my trademarks. Who was I if I wasn’t around horses?

  “Your palm,” he said. “I felt the callus. It’s from the reins, right? Shelby rides when she’s not touring, and her hands feel just like yours.”

  Now my hands were being compared to Shelby Rhodes’s hands. “Orion’s a bit headstrong,” I said, and I pictured my horse nodding his head vigorously. I could practically feel the reins straining in my hands. “He fights the bit.”

  “So does Ambassador.”

  “Is that Shelby’s horse?” I asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Is Shelby coming tonight?”

  Please, God, let the answer be no.

  Though who was I to keep Shelby Rhodes away from her own boyfriend? I didn’t want a boyfriend, and I certainly didn’t want to be the girl who got mixed up with someone else’s.

  “No,” Charlie said. “We’re taking a bit of a break this summer. She’s filming a movie with Hayden O’Conner. She didn’t want to be tied to too many things.”

  “I didn’t know she was an actress.”

  “Now she is.” He paused. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  Charlie had been the one to bring up Shelby, but I didn’t point that out. He pushed the hair from his eyes. Of course his bangs fell right back down again. I had the urge to reach out and sweep them from his forehead myself. My fingers actually tingled at the thought. But I didn’t do it. I wasn’t his girlfriend or his mother. I wasn’t allowed to touch him that way. I turned away to look at the coffin picture again.

  “Lorrie?”

  “Yeah?” I said, turning back again. And then Charlie’s lips were on mine, just barely, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to press any harder. My whole body was trembling. His lips were soft and dry. I took the smallest of steps closer, to let him know it was all right. I could feel something buzzing between us, as if my body and his body together created an electric charge.

  “Hey, guys,” Lennox called right then. Charlie and I broke apart just before she flung the door open. “The view is incredible. Let’s eat out here.”

  10

  I SPY

  CHARLIE HAD DUG UP AN OLD PAIR OF BINOCULARS, and Lennox and I passed them back and forth over the remnants of our dinner. The sun was going dow
n, but tiki lanterns were strung up around the Copelands’ lawn, crisscrossing above the guests’ heads. The drinks in people’s hands glowed red and blue, very patriotic. Somewhere out there a stage must’ve been set up. I heard snippets of lyrics I recognized from a song by the Jessarae Band, which had been at the top of the charts all spring.

  Just like the journalist she aspired to be, Lennox grilled Charlie on everything from what his plans were for the rest of the summer to whether he’d be allowed back at Grosvenor-Baldwin Academy in the fall.

  “I think that ship has sailed,” Charlie said to her. His knee bumped accidentally against mine. Or maybe it wasn’t accidental, because he made no attempt to move it away. I didn’t move my knee, either, and there was a wave of heat running through me, from my heart thump-thumping in my chest to the place where our bodies touched. I picked up my glass of wine and took a sip—Charlie had produced a bottle from the box of food, explaining that his parents were only strict about the underage-drinking thing when they thought other people might be watching.

  “Being a politician is mostly about managing people’s perceptions,” Lennox said with authority. Then she went on about Charlie’s school choices. “You should check out Hillyer. It’s only four hours from here, Forbes named it one of the top ten boarding schools in the Northeast, and as a bonus, Lorrie and I go there. He should come, don’t you think, Lor?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

  I made my voice sound light, but a heaviness had settled in my chest as I thought that maybe Charlie Copeland would get the spot I’d be leaving open. I forced myself to take a deep breath. Yim, yim.

  “More wine?” Charlie asked.

  “I have to drive later,” Lennox said.

  “Lorrie? I’ll top you off?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good,” I said.

  “Lorrie’s always only good for one glass,” Lennox said. “Unless it’s champagne—then she can’t resist.”

  “If only I’d known,” Charlie said.

  “This is good, too,” I said, and I picked up my wineglass and took another sip to prove it.

  “When does your dad get back from DC?” Lennox asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Charlie said.

  “What bill is he voting on?”

  “Lennox,” I said, “I don’t think Charlie wants to talk about all that.”

  “It’s all right,” Charlie said. “You can have one more question. Make it a good one.”

  Lennox bit her lip, thinking. “All right,” she said finally. “What’s something your dad always tells you? Like, not in a sound bite, but something he’d say to you personally over dinner.”

  “I don’t have many dinners with my dad these days,” Charlie said. “But after the whole expulsion thing, he kept going on about how today’s stupid decisions will ruin your life tomorrow.”

  “I read his NYU commencement speech,” Lennox said. “He said you can’t ignore the past if you want to step boldly, confidently into the future.”

  “That sounds like him.”

  “Does he really have the highest IQ of anyone in the Senate?”

  Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “He said one question,” I reminded Len.

  “Right,” Charlie said. “And anyway, the time has come for me to teach you my favorite party game.”

  “What’s that?”

  He smiled wickedly. “Watching everyone else.”

  “Oh, I’ve got that covered,” Lennox said, swinging the binoculars around on their cord. “I spotted your mother, and the Speaker, and the guy who does the political commentary for Channel Four.”

  “Gimme those,” Charlie told her. He raised the lenses to his eyes. “When I was younger and my parents hosted things in the ballroom that I wasn’t invited to, I’d sit up on the balcony and pretend I had telekinesis, and just by zeroing in on someone and concentrating really hard, I could control the person’s next move. Sometimes I’d convince myself that it actually worked.”

  “Are you doing it now?”

  “Naturally. There’s a guy in a blue shirt by the lion statue next to the pool house—he keeps grabbing multiple appetizers off each tray. Here.” He handed the binoculars to me. “Can you see him?”

  “Yup. He’s got a napkin full of crab cakes in his hand.”

  “Right, now watch. He’s going to take one more crab cake, and then he’s going to step to the left.”

  “His left or my left?”

  “Um, my left. I mean, your left. Our left.”

  Our left.

  “Sorry, Charlie. He just moved right,” I said, and I felt disappointed about it.

  “Shit.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Lennox said. “You’re just not as good at this as you thought you were.”

  “You think you could do better?” he asked.

  “I know I could,” she said.

  Charlie took the binoculars back from me and leaned in toward Lennox. In the process, he moved his knee from mine. The spot of heat now felt strange and empty.

  “I spy with my little eye . . . I’m looking for someone political,” Lennox said.

  “Pick a douchebag, any douchebag,” Charlie told her.

  “Okay, fine. I spy with my little eye an old man’s bald spot.”

  “That describes, like, fifty percent of the heads at this party,” Charlie said.

  “Well, this bald spot is in front of the topiary garden, and its owner is at least six foot five, I’d say. He’s interested in a woman about ten feet away. She’s standing next to a grizzly-bear topiary, and he’s built like a grizzly bear himself. But he’s a gentle giant, just working up the nerve to go talk to her.”

  “All right, I’m testing you on this,” Charlie said. “Hand those over, and tell me when he’s going to make a move.”

  “In three, two—”

  “He just turned,” Charlie said.

  “Nice!” I said to Lennox, and I held out my fist for her to bump it.

  “It’s Victor Underhill,” Charlie said. “I can’t believe he’s here.”

  “Who’s Victor Underhill?” I asked.

  “This guy who used to work for my dad,” Charlie said. “But they had a falling-out years ago. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid.”

  “Can I see what he looks like?” Lennox asked.

  Charlie handed the binoculars over. I leaned forward, toward the rail on the deck, straining to get a closer look myself, but we were too far from the topiary garden. When Lennox lowered the binoculars, I took them for myself. “Is it okay if I look, too?”

  “’Course,” Charlie said.

  “He’s big,” Lennox told me. “Hard to miss.”

  “I see him,” I told her. Even from a distance, Victor Underhill looked a little bit more menacing than the other guests. Not quite the gentle giant Lennox had described from the view of his back. His feet were planted in a wide stance, as if he was daring someone, anyone, to approach and just try to mess with him. I put the binoculars down on the table. The game was done.

  The music had drifted off, and suddenly a man’s voice was coming from the speakers. A smattering of clapping followed, and then another voice, a distinctly female one, took over.

  “Ah, the Famous Talking Julia Doll, in all her glory.”

  “Don’t you want to go down and hear her?” Lennox asked.

  “I’ve heard it all before,” Charlie said. “But I know you want to go.”

  I started to shake my head, but Lennox had scraped her chair back. “I do, if you don’t mind,” she said.

  “By the time you get close enough, her speech will probably be done,” I said.

  “Nah, she’ll go on for a while,” Charlie said. “You should go if you want. She always puts on a good show, and she has a special announcement planned for tonight.”

  “A special announcement?” Lennox asked, her eyes widening. “The announcement? Oh my God, is your dad here?”

  Charlie grimaced and shook
his head. “No,” he said a bit too quickly. “It has nothing to do with him.”

  “Methinks you doth protest too much,” Lennox said. Her voice rose with excitement. “You’ll come watch with me, right, Lor?”

  I tried to telepathically let her know that I didn’t want to leave the safety and privacy of this tree house, where no one would possibly recognize me. But somehow, it wasn’t working.

  “Please?” she begged.

  “All right,” I said. To Charlie, I added, “We’ll be back soon, and we’ll help you clean up.”

  “Of course we will,” Lennox said. From the distance, we heard a pause, then laughter, but we were too far away to hear the joke itself. Lennox grabbed my hand. “Come on, before we miss too much.”

  We raced down the steps of the tree house, through the woods, and out onto the lawn. The crowd was packed near the stage, but we found a little pocket with an only partially obstructed view of Julia Copeland, who was giving thanks to a long list of donors and volunteers. “I bet the senator is here,” Lennox whispered. “That he’s been here all along, hiding in the wings. History is going to be made right now. Just watch.”

  “One of the greatest privileges of my life is that occasionally I get to be the host of events like this one,” Julia Copeland said. “Though I don’t deserve any of the credit for the incredible display Mother Nature offered up. When you plan an outdoor party, the recurring nightmare is that the weather won’t cooperate. But tonight, well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the moon so bright or the sky so filled with stars. It’s like a night out of my dreams, giving us the perfect setting to enjoy the beautiful music of the Jessarae Band.”

  Julia paused for an obligatory burst of applause. “And I am thrilled to have had the pleasure of your company, and I’m honored that each and every one of you took time out of your busy schedules and gave up this coveted summer evening to come to our home.”

  Lennox was standing on her toes, listing first to the left and then to the right, trying to see around people’s heads.

  “Your support means so much, not only to me but to countless others, as well. Particularly on a night like this, when we have so much to enjoy, it is important for us to remember those who are less fortunate. I think of them every time I look in the mirror. Yes, I am the wife of a senator, and I’ve enjoyed many privileges in my adult life. But I am also a sister, a daughter, a mother—that last label is the one I hold most dear. My love for my son matches the love that each and every one of my fellow citizens has for his or her children. I may be standing here under the stars with you tonight, but I grew up in a small apartment in a rough town, and when I study my reflection up close, I see not only myself but also the child I once was. I see my own mother, who worked two jobs in order to lift her children out of the life we were living. I see other mothers, just across town, doing the same thing right now. It is their collective dream that their children get the very best shot at living long, healthy, productive lives. And it is that very dream that has inspired me to realize one of my own. Tonight I am announcing my candidacy for the United States House of Representatives.”