Everything That Follows

by Meg Little Reilly

  At the place where the hulking ferry met the edge of Martha’s Vineyard, a team of strong men and women in waterproof onesies moved quickly at their respective tasks—ushering the passengers off, directing the cars, securing the watercraft. No matter how few unimpressed locals happened to be on that ferry on any given day, every one of those workers were in place and ready to do their elegant dance. All day, in season and off. Kat loved the intricate coordination of it all. She smiled at the man directing a mail truck off the boat and breathed a quiet sigh of relief, because although she had no concrete reason to be nervous, a part of her wondered if the gatekeepers to her island might not let her back in once she’d left.

  “Ma’am, this way,” a man said from behind.

  She spun around. “What?”

  “Please come this way.” The ferry worker pointed to a pathway that had been laid by little orange cones and Kat realized that she was about to walk into a small construction zone.

  “Sorry, thank you,” she muttered.

  She walked behind a handsome middle-aged couple carrying three overstuffed canvas bags with their initials embroidered in large letters. Going to West Chop, probably, with those clothes and that look. She had come to know all the slight variations in well-heeled islanders. They were headed to the taxi stand.

  Kat went to the #1 bus, which was spewing loud breaths of steam into the cold air as it idled. She showed the driver her ticket and walked to the back. There were four other people on the bus, pretty standard for an off-season weekday. None of them were tourists. Kat sank into the soft cushions and exhaled. Twenty minutes along Vineyard Haven Road and she’d be back home, thank God. Leaving her house and her island now felt like an ordeal and she wondered if it was possible to never do it again.

  Kat had never been on an island before she moved to Martha’s Vineyard. She only picked the Vineyard because someone at her old waitressing job told her you could make a killing as a server in places like that. She was estranged from her mother by then and had no reason to stay in the Buffalo area, and so she went. The idea of living on an island had been vaguely intriguing, but there was no way for her younger self to know precisely what it meant to be a resident of such a place. Because it was so small, and the borders clearly delineated, it struck Kat upon arrival that inhabitants regarded Martha’s Vineyard as a sort of kingdom all its own. It wasn’t really Massachusetts or New England or America any more than the Tower of London was Europe. It even had its own moat and drawbridge. And unlike the theoretical legal borders that separated most US states from one another, nature marked the precise moment at which you arrived on an island. You stepped off a boat, bridge or ferry—all borders which required tickets and permission from the gatekeepers—and then you knew that you were there. It seemed to Kat that Vineyard residents regarded every place on earth as either there or not there, and after seven years of residency, she couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose the latter.

  There were other places like this, of course. Kat understood that people from New York City regarded it as the center of the universe. Erika said it was because of Wall Street and fashion. But Kat had come to believe that the real reason they thought this was because this was how islanders regarded their kingdoms: as separate and special places from the rest of society. She went to New York once, three Christmases ago with Sean. It was wonderful, but it wasn’t the Vineyard. Even the Big Apple, apparently, was just not there.

  Kat stepped off the bus onto the cold, wet sidewalk in Addison. She was already starting to feel better. She could be home in ten minutes, back at her computer. Orla wasn’t expecting her in the shop for the rest of the day, which meant hours of uninterrupted time to read through her new bird book and research every little thread of curiosity that might get her closer to who Kyle Billings was. She knew so much about him now, but still couldn’t quite hold him in her hands. There was no ribbon of consistency connecting all the phases of his life—not one that Kat could find anyhow. She hadn’t identified the thing that defined him and followed him all the way from northern Florida to the Vineyard. She could have said the same thing about herself until she’d learned to blow glass. Once she’d discovered glass working, Kat’s passions revealed themselves retroactively. She suddenly understood what she’d been searching for in her past. Maybe Kyle had still been searching too.

  Kat considered what discovery might have been waiting for Kyle as she walked home. It was raining slightly, cold rain that would have been snow if it was just a few degrees colder. Kyle never got a chance to figure out what the aimlessness of his youth all meant. Maybe that was too dramatic, though. Maybe he hadn’t been the sort to indulge such romantic ideas. Kat would never know. She only knew that the ugly moments before his death, and his aggression toward her, were fading quickly from her memory. All that was left were the hints of goodness she thought she’d seen in him. Kat couldn’t hold on to the fear that had led her to push him. Her psyche wouldn’t allow it. And why? He’d been threatening her. He might have raped her. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. It didn’t seem fair anymore. Kat was justified in protecting herself in that moment—she was sure of that. But it was also true that Kyle hadn’t actually done anything. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And so it seemed only fair to give the memory of Kyle the benefit of the doubt. It might be nuts, but it was fair.

  “Kat!”

  She looked up from her feet into the icy rain.

  Sean stood before her. He had a smiling blonde woman at his side and a bag of takeout from Stoney’s in one hand. They hadn’t seen each other in a week but he didn’t look as bereft as Kat imagined he would be. He looked almost cheerful.

  The smell of hot french fries rose up from the bag.

  “Hey!” Kat ran a hand along her wet ponytail and smiled at the woman. “Hi, I’m Kat.”

  The woman put a hand out. She said her name, which Kat forgot almost immediately.

  “Have we met?” the woman asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Kat’s head was spinning. This woman did look familiar, but there was no way they had met before.

  “She’s studying our beach,” Sean explained. “We’re just out for some provisions.”

  Kat nodded, though it didn’t make a smidge of sense.

  “The buckling,” he added.

  “Right, I figured.” Kat turned to the woman. “So you’ve talked with Orla, then? About the cliffs?” Those are my cliffs, Kat wanted to say, mine and Sean’s.

  “I’m trying.”

  “Yeah, she can be tough.” Kat looked back at Sean. It was all too strange. This was their first encounter since their fight and it didn’t feel like the right sort of encounter. “We’re all pretty nervous about the cliff...”

  The woman’s eyes widened as something became clearer to her. She was realizing that this was Kat—the girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend. Kat wondered how Sean had characterized their status. She almost enjoyed watching the woman squirm before her.

  The rain had picked up and they were all wilting under its weight. Everyone wanted this encounter to end.

  Sean held the take-out bag up. “Well, this is getting cold, so we should get back to my place.”

  It didn’t make any sense to Kat that they would be eating french fries at Sean’s house if she was studying their eroded beach, a mile away. Was Sean seeing her? Was he capable of moving on that quickly?

  “Yeah, of course,” Kat said. “I’ll call you this week, Sean.” It sounded strange coming out. So formal. They had resolved nothing and, though she didn’t want him around as she sorted through the Kyle stuff, she didn’t want him with this woman, either.

  “Sure, okay.”

  “Nice meeting you,” the woman said.

  “Nice meeting you.”

  They turned and walked away.

  Kat watched them disappear around a corner before breaking into a speed walk in the other direction. Minu
tes before, she’d been so eager to get home and back to her Kyle obsession, but suddenly she wanted a friend to commiserate with. Sean just seemed so content without her. It was devastating. It was also the moment at which she realized what it all meant: she might be losing Sean for good. Because of her secret about Kyle and all the hiding out and the weird discussions with Hunter, this might be the end for her and Sean. It had been such a distant possibility last week when all she wanted to do was get a little space to clear her head. But now, with this woman in the picture... Perhaps she’d overestimated Sean’s patience.

  Kat walked quickly through the rest of town in the dark drizzle. She trudged up the hill, passed the glass shop and saw Orla talking to a customer inside. Poor Orla. But she couldn’t think about that for now.

  She kept going until she got to Hunter’s house, a giant in a row of giants. These fucking people. They pushed all the real people to the waterless center of the island and could hardly be bothered to occupy their empty cavernous homes for more than a few weekends a year. Kat had grown to resent so many things about Hunter that she never cared about before. She didn’t used to care that he was rich or bored or blissfully ignorant of how most people lived. But now. Now he was the source of all her problems and the embodiment of all the privileges she’d been locked out of in this world. Now their differences mattered.

  And still, she was at his door, hoping to find him.

  “Finally,” Hunter said as he opened the door.

  Kat stepped inside the foyer and took off her wet coat. “What, finally?”

  “I knew you’d emerge from hibernation eventually. You can’t avoid me forever.”

  She nodded. After the Sean interaction, it was satisfying to know that someone had noticed her absence.

  “You want a latte?”

  Kat nodded again and they went into the kitchen. It was deceptively tidy inside Hunter’s house, which she knew was a result of continuous housecleaning services and not Hunter’s state of mind. He could go nuts in there and the army of women his father employed would maintain an orderly facade to the very end.

  “Do you know anything new?” Hunter asked from the kitchen counter, his back to her.

  Kat watched his shoulder muscles move around under his shirt as he tamped the espresso. “No, nothing. Local news has pretty much stopped covering it, but I think the case is still open. Maybe they’ve moved on to some new terrible thing.”

  Hunter frothed milk. “Maybe. Let’s hope.”

  Neither of them wanted to talk about it, but it was unclear whether they were capable of small talk.

  “I’m sorry I freaked out at you last week,” Kat blurted. She had no intention of apologizing about their argument and didn’t really believe he deserved one, but she wanted peace.

  Hunter poured cognac over two picture-perfect heads of foamed milk. “It’s my fault. C’mon.”

  She followed him and the coffees out of the kitchen and into a small den lined with bookshelves. Hunter had the Cognac bottle tucked under one arm.

  They sat down on opposite corners of a leather couch and turned toward each other. Kat had never spent any time in this room.

  Hunter crossed his left leg over his right knee. He studied Kat. “Anything else going on?”

  Kat sipped the boozy coffee. “I think I really screwed things up with Sean. He seems...I don’t know...done with me.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  Hunter shook his head. “No, he’s definitely done with me. He doesn’t want to blame you for anything, though. He’s breaking up with one of us, but it’s not you.”

  “I don’t know about that. I saw him today with this woman and...” Kat sighed. Maybe she was making too much of it all. They had been together for years. Was it possible that this was it? She was as heartsick as she was exhausted.

  “I probably shouldn’t say what I think.” Hunter took a long gulp.

  “Why? What do you think?”

  He shrugged and topped her off. “Kat, Sean’s a good guy, but he’s very rigid. He’s difficult, in his own way.”

  “He is rigid, kind of moralistic. But he’s also genuinely good. Maybe that’s what being good does to you.”

  Hunter uncrossed his legs and stretched them out on the couch, so his socked feet touched the edge of Kat’s thigh. “But you’re good and you’re not like that.”

  “I’m not that good. I don’t think you can be truly good if you come from bad people.”

  “I refuse to believe that. We’re fucked if it’s true.”

  Kat picked a red thread from the tip of his socked toe. “We’re fucked either way.”

  Hunter leaned back and closed his eyes. Kat wondered how much of the bottle he’d ingested before she arrived. It was the sort of thing she would have worried about weeks before, but now seemed so minor. Whatever kept them each afloat—that was the new standard.

  Kat closed her eyes too and felt the full weight of her exhaustion. Going to Boston had taken a lot out of her. Every day she seemed to have less energy than the day before, her sleep deficiency more pronounced. She kept her eyes shut until her breathing slowed and she could almost feel her body drift toward something like sleep. And just as it seemed she was surrendering to it, Kyle’s face flashed before her. It was the same terrified expression he’d worn in his last moments, but this time his eyes were enormous saucers, as wide and white as baseballs. She jerked upright and spilled the latte into her lap. “Oh shit.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Hunter went quickly to the kitchen and brought her a dish towel. No explanation needed. He understood everything.

  He sat back down beside her on the couch and they listened to the sound of their breaths for another minute.

  Finally, Hunter turned to her. “What’s your full name?” He’d never asked before.

  “Kathleen.”

  “Hmm. Kat suits you better. Why didn’t I know that was your name?”

  “Because it’s not. Not anymore. I changed it when I left home.”

  “You hated it that much?”

  “I hated the life that came with it. Changing my name seemed important for starting over. New name, new story.”

  “Did it work?”

  Kat thought about that. “Yeah, it did. Seems like it shouldn’t, but it did.”

  Hunter was watching her as she explained it all, and she felt a wave of gratitude for his genuine attention. She still hated him a little bit for the circumstances of their lives. He was still the cause of all this horror. He was a piece of it, anyhow. But their circumstances also made him seem like the only person in the world that she could be fully herself with. She didn’t know if that feeling had always been there or whether it was a new thing, a consequence of their mounting problems.

  And then Kat did something. She leaned in to Hunter and let her head fall upon his shoulder.

  He put a hand on her head and stroked her hair gingerly. The weight of his hand was almost imperceptible, as if he thought she might burst into flames if he pressed too hard.

  It was the most overtly not platonic thing they had ever done and the danger of it sent a tingle through her body. She could feel the warmth of his shoulder, the drag of his hand in her hair. She was aware of every inch of her arm that was in contact with his and those parts were on fire now.

  Hunter leaned in closer and she tried to control her breath. The only sounds in the room were the distant din of appliances and the outside wind.

  Kat glanced up at him. She felt embarrassed doing it, as if all accountability for that moment could be avoided by looking away and pretending it wasn’t happening. But she looked up and saw that Hunter was gazing down at her. He was really taking her in. Kat had the fleeting notion that Hunter had made the very same face for hundreds of women before her and they were all similarly flattered b
y it, but she let the feeling pass.

  And then his face was closer and his breath mixed with hers. And then Hunter’s mouth was on her mouth and they were kissing gently. It wasn’t the kiss of people overcome by lust, though there was desperation in it. They wanted it as much as they regretted the wanting. It was soft and shameful, tender and vile. The tension was so arousing that Kat felt her head throb as blood rushed around within her.

  She closed her eyes...and saw Kyle. And that wave of panic gave way to the deep pool of guilt and confusion she reserved for Sean. Kat’s heart sank and she forgot about the lips that had moved to her neck, up toward her ear. She pushed Hunter and he pulled her in, mistaking the gesture for something else.

  “No, let’s not,” Kat said, pushing him from her.

  Hunter drew back and wiped a hand across his mouth. He nodded emphatically as if he were on the brink of making the same declaration. “No, right, sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just confused and not thinking straight.”

  “I don’t think you’re confused. But you’re right.”

  Kat stood up and rubbed her temples. “We both are, I think. Because of everything that’s going on. We’re, like, hiding out together and that’s not really the same thing as...”

  Hunter waited for her to finish the thought, but she did not.

  “And I don’t know,” Kat said, shifting directions, “maybe I’m reacting to Sean and that blonde scientist. I don’t know...”

  Hunter’s face changed. “Wait, what?”

  “I think I’m just confused.”

  He stood up. “No, what was the part about the blonde scientist?”

  “I don’t know.” She waved him off. “I saw him earlier with this woman and it seemed like there was something there, but maybe I’m losing my mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “This was a blonde woman who studies beach erosion?”