“Christopher Matthew Bingham,” she shouted over the music. It took a few seconds, but eventually the girl lifted her head from his shoulder, and Christopher’s gaze followed hers, settling on his mother. Tiny diamonds of light from the disco ball danced across his face. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“Geez, Mom, can’t you give a guy some space?”
“Space?” Abby felt a cackle race up her throat. “Oh, really? You want some space? I’ll give you space. What are you doing with this girl? Woman?” Abby flapped her hands in the air as she searched for the appropriate nomenclature. She turned to the girl. “Hi, dear,” Abby quipped. “I suggest you find someone closer to your own age. This happens to be my son, who is only sixteen.”
The girl took a step back, the pink liquid in her cup sloshing over the side and puddling on the floor. “Sixteen? But I thought you said you were twenty-one.” Sam, suddenly at Abby’s side, rested a firm hand on her arm, as if readying to corral a rabid dog.
Abby shot him a look. “Oh boy, this is getting good now, isn’t it?”
“Mom—” Chris began, but she held up her hand.
A wave of heat whooshed up her face, just as she caught a whiff of alcohol. She leaned in closer and noticed that her son’s eyes were rimmed with red. “Are you drunk? You’ve got to be kidding me! You have a lot of explaining to do, Christopher Matthew Bingham.”
Sam ushered Chris off the dance floor, and Abby followed. “What were you thinking?” she hissed. She found an empty chair and shoved him into it. “How can you be so, so—” She sputtered, searching for the right word. “Stupid!” A spray of spittle flew through the air as she spat out the word.
“God, Mom, calm down. I’m not drunk, okay? I just had a few sips of her drink.”
“Oh, really? Now you’re going to lie to us, too?” She glowered at Sam, who stared at her blankly. “You’re not going to back me up here?” she demanded.
“Of course I am, it’s just that we’re on a cruise. It’s vacation, honey.”
“And what? That makes this”—she gestured with a wide sweep of her arm—“all okay?”
“Seriously, Mom, chill.”
“Chill? Is that your entire verbal wingspan?” Chris stared at her as if she were a lunatic. “Well, excuse me, but last I checked, twenty-one is still the legal drinking age. Not to mention that Miss Thing on the dance floor looks old enough to be your teacher.” She shot Chris her best I’m-very-disappointed-in-you look.
Sam blew threw his teeth. “Okay, let’s all just try to breathe for a minute. Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks. Chris, do you care to explain yourself?”
Chris shrugged. “What do you want me to say? So, I had a few sips of her drink—big deal. We were having fun. Remember what that feels like, Mom? Fun?”
Abby stepped back as if he’d slapped her. How dare he accuse her of not having fun! He didn’t know the half of it. It was all she could do not to tell him right there, spill all the beans. It just so happens, she wanted to say, that I’m sick. Very sick.
As if sensing an imminent eruption, Sam wrapped an arm around her. “All right, I think we could all use some time alone. Chris, I’m taking you back to your cabin, where you should consider yourself grounded until further notice.”
Chris’s eyes lit up. “Grounded? You can’t ground me on a ship. It’s like a, a, an oxymoron.”
Abby was about to congratulate him on his clever use of an SAT word but caught herself. “Sure he can. We can,” she amended. “And we are grounding you. Back in your cabin. No more arcade or movies or karaoke lounge for you until further notice.”
“C’mon. Get up,” Sam commanded. When Chris didn’t move, he yanked him out of the chair by his elbow. “I said, Let’s go. Right now.”
Abby watched them leave, then fell into a chair, ready to weep. Lee, who’d witnessed the whole scene unraveling, came over to give her a hug. “There, there,” she said. “It’s not as bad as you think.”
“That’s the thing,” Abby said. “What if it is?”
15
“You know that movie with Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson?”
Lee was sitting across from Thomas at the Starboard, sharing a plate of chicken wings while, just beyond the deck railing, a brilliant orange sun was setting.
“Oh, what’s the name of it again?” She snapped her fingers in the air, as if for instant recall.
Despite Lee’s best intentions to avoid him for the remainder of the cruise, Thomas had kept popping up unexpectedly, like a drifting buoy at sea. When she’d gone to walk on the treadmills at the gym after their excursion in Hamilton, there he was, offering her a bottled water. When she’d snuck a brownie in the cafeteria, there he was, waving to her from the crepe line. And shortly after Abby had gone to check on Chris tonight—and Lee was wondering what to do next—who should cruise by but Thomas?
“It must be kismet,” he’d joked.
So now they sat together, discussing their favorite movies. A smudge of barbecue sauce hovered on his chin, and she watched it while he talked, a little goatee of grease moving up and down. “Oh, I know the one you’re talking about,” he said. “As Good as It Gets? No, that’s not right. That was the one with Helen Hunt and Nicholson.” He hesitated a moment. “Oh, wait, I’ve got it—Something’s Gotta Give. That’s the one, right? Loved it.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Lee nodded, pleasantly surprised that he’d come up with it. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“I was dragged to that movie back in, let’s see, around 2003, if I’m not mistaken.” Thomas chuckled. “Wasn’t Nicholson a riot? That scene in the hospital when he’s all looped up in his hospital johnny—I lost it.”
Lee was laughing now—it was funny. “Was it really that long ago?” She moaned. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
“I know, right? And Diane Keaton was awesome, of course.” He wiped his mouth, making the goatee vanish. “All those white turtlenecks. Must have been a year’s supply. At least I think that was the movie where she wore all the white turtlenecks at the beach?”
“That was the one,” Lee confirmed. “And collected white rocks.”
“That’s right. I remember now, and Jack gave her a jar filled with white rocks and a black stone in the middle. Now that’s poetry right there.”
Lee leaned back in her chair and allowed herself to reassess Thomas for a moment. That he could recall such details, let alone call it poetry, was unusual. The few men she dated usually wanted to see Arnold Schwarzenegger action films or science fiction flicks. Thomas couldn’t possibly know it, but Lee had worshipped Diane Keaton in that movie. Not to mention the sweeping beach house that brimmed with books and charming window seats. It struck Lee as the way life should be: living in a grand beach house with your best friends, copious amounts of wine and good novels at your disposal. After the movie (she and Abby had gone together), Lee had confided that she wanted to be just like Diane Keaton’s character when she grew up. What do you mean? Abby had half teased. You want to be closed off and unavailable for the rest of your life?
It wasn’t what Lee had meant, of course, but she remembered thinking that maybe Abby had tapped into some small vein of her inner psyche. Maybe there was something in Lee’s genetic makeup that made her unsuitable for dating. A gene, say, with an uncanny ability to detect men who were overly suave or disingenuous. Or, maybe, it was just a matter of simple mathematics and probability—she’d used up all her chances at love in college. She’d been so cavalier with her heart back then, slipping in and out of different boys’ arms, always assuming there was another guy waiting around the corner. And then: Lacey.
Since forever, it had been Lee and Lacey against the world. But now, with Lacey off to college, their united front dwindling to only one, Lee could no longer say what she was fighting for—or against, for that matter.
“You remind me a little of her, actually.” Thomas was still talking.
“What? Sorry? Remind you of whom?” L
ee had zoned out of their conversation.
“Diane Keaton.”
Lee snorted and gulped her lemonade. “Yeah, right.”
“No, really, you do. I was trying to figure it out the other day and that’s it.”
“Maybe if I lost about forty pounds and actually had a hairstylist.” She set her glass down and smoothed her napkin in her lap.
“Aw, come on. You’re being too hard on yourself. You’re a natural beauty.”
Lee threw her head back and laughed. She wished she could be charmed so easily.
“No, I mean it,” Thomas persisted. “There’s something about you that’s clever and funny and kind of flighty, too, like you’re not taking life too seriously.”
“Well, that would be a first. Most people tell me I have a tendency to take things too seriously, as if it’s a character flaw.” She was thinking maybe she’d start wearing white turtlenecks when she got back to Charleston, imitate the simple grace of Diane Keaton. But then she remembered all the small hands that pressed up against her through the course of a day. Hands demanding markers or Play-Doh or juice. No, white turtlenecks wouldn’t hold up against the onslaught of all those messy fingers or the southern heat.
“Really?” he asked, surprised. “Maybe it’s the setting—vacation and all—but I don’t see it.” He shook his head. “Nope, you might be tightly wound but not overly serious. They’re two different things.”
Lee nodded. She was getting confused now. She was fun and flighty but tightly wound?
“Anyway,” Thomas was saying, “tell me more about Lacey. I know you told me some last time we were together, but I want to know more. What does she want to do after college?”
Lee rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started. She doesn’t have the faintest idea.”
“Funny, Tyra and Heather are polar opposites. Tyra wants to travel the world, maybe join the Peace Corps. She’s the do-gooder, you know, the save-the-whales and hug-the-trees person in our family. Heather, on the other hand, can’t wait to go to business school and make loads of money. Some days, I worry about her soul.” He cast his eyes downward, thoughtful for a moment. “But you know what?” He trained his vision on the horizon. “I’ve decided I’m not going to worry anymore. I know, I know.” He held up his hand as if anticipating Lee’s objection. “I can guess what you’re going to say. Easier said than done, right? But the girls are grown-up now. They can take it from here.”
Lee sat back in her chair and considered this. She wasn’t sure she could let her grip loosen so completely on Lacey. Maybe it was different for fathers. They couldn’t wait for their kids to turn into miniature adults, even friends, while most moms Lee knew wished that the snuggling pockets of childhood would last a few years longer. When Lacey had turned sixteen, Lee didn’t think anything could be more tortuous than staying up till the wee hours of the night and awaiting the dance of the car’s headlights in the driveway, her daughter home safe. But she’d been wrong. This betwixt and between, never knowing if she was dealing with Lacey the adult, or Lacey her little girl, made Lee’s head spin.
“Wow, you sound so . . .” Lee searched for the word, then laughed. “Grown-up.”
Thomas’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “Do I? Well, it’s a good front that I put up anyway. We’ll see how it actually pans out.” He leaned across the table and brushed something off her cheek. “Sauce,” he explained. “Anyway, isn’t it funny how a parent’s love for a child is absolute? Nothing they do can shake it. It’s a powerful thing.” He fished a piece of ice from his glass and chewed on it, turning philosophical. “Spouses, though, well, they’re a whole other story, aren’t they? Love ’em one minute, hate ’em the next.” His sentences slurred slightly, as if he were pulling a Magic Marker through the air, smudging his words.
“I wouldn’t know,” Lee offered. “I was never married to Lacey’s dad.”
“Oh.” Thomas straightened in his chair. “I’m sorry, I guess I just assumed . . . something you said before made me think you were divorced.”
“Nope. Single, never married. That’s me.” It rolled off Lee’s tongue without a hint of irony. She’d grown so accustomed to identifying herself that way that it was almost second nature, an extra last name that she carried around with her. Hi! I’m Lee Single-Never-Married. So nice to meet you!
“Well, I can tell you, you’ve saved yourself a lot of heartache going the no-husband route,” Thomas continued, unfazed. “Because one day you’re head over heels in love, and the next, you’re looking across the dinner table wondering who the heck is staring back at you.” The sun had slipped almost completely below the horizon now, and hundreds of white lights strewn across the deck rails switched on like tiny stars.
Lee sighed into her glass. Why were relationships so hard? Abby and Sam were about the only ones she knew who were any good at it. They’d always been smooth and steady—straight-up vanilla. “You should talk to my friend Caroline. She’s itching for a proposal from her boyfriend, who’s also on the ship. You might get her to change her mind.”
Thomas slapped the table with such force that their glasses trembled. “Tell her not to do it! Where is she? Let me talk to her.”
Lee smiled warily. “I will.” Meanwhile, her mind was beginning to sift through options of how best to excuse herself. Thomas could keep talking all night, but did she have an obligation to stay? Should she walk him back to his cabin to make sure he didn’t somehow manage to pitch himself overboard? Where did responsibility and liability lie when you accepted a seemingly innocent invitation to appetizers? She was weighing her choices when a peal of laughter followed by a clatter of shoes down the nearby stairwell shot a hole through the night.
“What the—” Thomas tried to swivel around, nearly falling off his chair in the process. From her vantage point, though, Lee could just make out the source of the noise—a group of teenagers coming down the stairs had tripped, toppling over one another. A few girls lay scattershot across the wooden deck, laughing, while the guys tried to help them up.
Lee hurried over. “Are you kids all right?” she called. When she drew closer, she thought she recognized the blond curtain of hair, the lanky legs in high heels, the sundress speckled with purple and white flowers. “Lacey?” She reached out a hand to pull her daughter up. “Are you okay?” She didn’t recognize any of the other kids, probably Lacey’s new friends from the ship.
“I’m fine, Mom,” Lacey said, clearly embarrassed to have Lee there. But as Lee began to pull her up, Lacey squealed, “Ow, ouch! My foot!” Her daughter winced in pain as she hopped on one foot.
“Oh, honey. I think you might have sprained your ankle. Here, wrap your arm around my shoulder,” said Lee as she looped her own arm around Lacey’s waist.
“Can I give you a hand there?” Thomas asked, approaching them. “Looks like you did quite a number on your ankle.” When Lee glanced down, she could see that he was right. Lacey’s ankle was already starting to swell beyond the strap of her sandal. Together, they helped her limp to a chair. “Let me get you some ice for that,” he said before heading for the bar.
Lee reached for Lacey’s foot in order to unbuckle her sandal. “Ouch, Mom. Be careful! That really hurts.”
“I’m sorry, Lace. I’m trying to be gentle. I just want to get this sandal off before your foot really swells up.”
“Well, can you stop it? Like immediately?”
In an instant, Lee was transported back to seventeen years ago, when she and Lacey would fight over the smallest things—picking up a toy, having the right color sippy cup, licking a crayon. Don’t you dare lick that crayon, she’d warn, and the next thing she knew, the entire crayon, paper and wax, would disappear into Lacey’s mouth and Lee would have to pry her little jaws open to fish it out. Nonsense fights, Lee had called them then. Well, here they were, years later, still arguing, only now it was about whether or not her daughter would allow her to remove her sandal.
“There,” Lee said, finally managing to slide
it off. Thomas, meanwhile, had returned with a bag of ice and gingerly laid it across Lacey’s foot.
“You really should elevate it,” he told her kindly.
“Okay,” Lacey said. Lee watched as Thomas helpfully propped Lacey’s foot up on a chair and rearranged the ice pack. Why was her daughter more obliging when a perfect stranger offered to help? Why did she refuse to let Lee in when all Lee wanted to do was make sure she was all right? Thomas ran Lacey’s toes through a quick battery of tests that he claimed to know from a college football injury.
“Well, the good news is I don’t think it’s broken. But you’ve definitely got a nasty sprain. Might want to check in with the doctor on board. Pop a few Advil.”
Lee was suddenly grateful for Thomas, who, even in his current state, was proving surprisingly proficient in defusing mother-daughter tension. “Thank you.” She turned to him now. “You’ve been a huge help.”
He straightened from his crouch, a little wobbly on his feet, and smiled. “You’re welcome. Do you want me to help you ladies to the ship’s infirmary?”
Lee exchanged looks with Lacey, who shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Oh, no, thank you. That won’t be necessary. I think we girls will just sit here for a while before we try to venture any further.”
Thomas shrugged and said, “All right, then. I guess I’ll see you later. I’ll check in with you tomorrow to see how the patient is doing.”
“Thanks again,” said Lee and smiled.
They watched him cross the deck and go back into the ship’s main lobby, leaving only the two of them. Lee pulled her chair up next to Lacey’s.
“Wow, what a night, huh?” Lacey’s head rested on Lee’s shoulder, like old times. Her daughter’s body shook, as if trying to hold back laughter. “What on earth is so funny?” Lee demanded. It took her a moment to realize that Lacey was crying. “Oh, honey,” she said. “Does it hurt that much?”
Lacey lifted her head and swiped at her eyes. “No.” She gulped. “Well, sort of. But, Mom,” she said, “I have to tell you something.”
The Summer Sail Page 14