by Robbi McCoy
“Oh,” Adele said, clearly disappointed.
“Sorry,” Eric said. “We thought you were meeting her here for—” He stopped, looking embarrassed. “I thought you two were—”
“We think of this as the love shack.” Adele giggled self-consciously.
Lauren didn’t know what to say. So they had assumed she was here for an amorous rendezvous.
“I’m sorry, Lauren,” Eric said. “We’re being childish and stupid.”
“Cassie and I are just friends,” she repeated firmly, knowing it wasn’t necessary. But it was something she had been telling herself too and she felt it needed to be reinforced for all of them.
Lauren had no intention of anything romantic developing between Cassie and herself. The feelings she’d had once were long gone. But she realized for the first time that she didn’t really know anything about Cassie’s feelings. She’d assumed Cassie too had moved past all of that and the two of them could finally have the friendship they should have had all along. Ten years, she thought, was surely long enough to erase one kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The following day, Eric and Adele went sightseeing and Lauren declined to go with them, preferring to spend the day at the beach house. She volunteered to cook dinner, eager to prepare a meal in Cassie’s beautiful modern kitchen. After the young people left, she walked down to the beach, negotiating a weathered wooden staircase that let her out onto a narrow stretch of deep tan sand, deserted except for several white gulls riding sideways on the cold wind. She arbitrarily chose to walk south. In occasional calm lulls, the climbing sun spread a feeble warmth over her before the breeze kicked in again.
This wasn’t a beach for tide pools or shell collecting. There were only tiny pieces of shells, smashed up by the grinding of the waves, and some glistening hanks of seaweed churned up and dropped by the tide. Far out on the horizon, a cargo ship glided slowly by, heading north. On the inland side was the eroding cliff, undercut by waves at high tide. Further back were homes, spaced far enough apart to give everyone the feeling of being someplace special, perched on a lonely finger of wind-ravaged headland, remote and Brontë-esque. Brontë-esque, Lauren repeated silently, with a private smile. She would try to remember to tell Cassie that.
Despite the impression, though, this place wasn’t the least bit remote, as she was reminded when a woman came by walking her dog. Like Lauren, she was wrapped securely in a coat and scarf. She nodded as they passed one another.
It’s too cold for a walk on the beach, she thought. That’s why it was nearly deserted.
As she continued walking, she came upon a milky beige shell protruding from the sand. As she pulled it free, she saw that it was whole, a snail shell of some sort, three inches long, coiling into an elongated spiral tip. There wasn’t even a nick around the fragile edge of the opening. It was perfect. How extraordinary, she thought. How did it manage to remain whole like this? It didn’t seem possible considering the violent pounding of the surf. The living creature this had once been was long gone. Just the sanitized exoskeleton remained.
I’ve seen my share of skeletons, Lauren thought. Usually human. A skeleton always implied a living creature. It was the only tangible thing left of those once living. What was left after death that wasn’t tangible? she asked herself. Was there anything?
She held the shell tight against her ear and listened for the sound of the waves. It was faint, but it was there. It remembers the sea. What’s left when you’re gone are the echoes of your life, the memories you leave with other people.
It was so hard to think of someone as dead when she was alive every day in your mind and in your heart. In your dreams at night, she spoke to you and kissed you just like she always had. The concept of death was so difficult to comprehend. That’s why people have invented so many ways to deny it.
She slid the shell into her jacket pocket, still wondering how it had escaped destruction. Faith would have said, “There are cases that defy the odds. Some people would call them miracles. Others would call it luck.” There was no question which view Faith had subscribed to.
Too cold to continue any further, Lauren made her way back to the house.
Cassie’s house was not what she had expected from a beach house near Coos Bay. She could see this was more suited to Cassie’s style, though. She had pictured one of those intimate bungalows with three rooms and a trundle bed and knotty pine paneling and creaky floorboards. The kind of place you could decorate to look cute and cozy with quilts and deep-cushioned chairs and miniature lighthouses. This house was nothing like that. It was modern and bright with lots of white surfaces. The blond hardwood floors gleamed around tasteful earth-toned throw rugs. The art on the walls was simple and graceful, not kitschy or cutesy. There wasn’t a lighthouse in sight. Lauren preferred this contemporary style. She felt comfortable in this house.
She inspected the CD collection by the stereo and found a lot of favorites, as she expected, knowing that Cassie’s musical tastes resembled her own. What she didn’t expect was the shelf of old records, a stack of inflexible disks she assumed were seventy-eights. She shuffled through them quickly, noting several songs by Nat King Cole, some Judy Garland, Vera Lynn and the song that had been their undoing ten years ago, “Fascination” by Jane Morgan. Lauren wondered if Cassie had ever listened to that song in the last ten years. She herself had not. Looking through the components of the audio rack, she didn’t find a turntable. Still nothing to play them on, Cassie?
She settled on a Vivaldi CD for background music to accompany her work, and spent the next couple hours in the bright living room with her laptop, doing more gazing out the window at the sea than typing. It should have been the perfect setting for working, but Lauren was distracted, as she so often was these days. She had yet to find the peace of mind that led to sleeping through the night and focusing on a task for more than a few minutes at a time. But the ocean was beautiful to watch, especially from the warmth of the house, and it did leave her feeling calmer than usual.
As the afternoon grew late, she sorted through the raw materials in the refrigerator and pantry and settled on making a salad with some of the leftover grilled chicken. She stood in the kitchen slicing a cucumber when Eric and Adele arrived, shattering the quiet mood of the day with their laughter, a welcome disruption.
Their meal was simple but satisfying, the salad and a bottle of sauvignon blanc they had picked up during their day’s adventure. The three of them sat for a long time at the dinner table and ended up finishing the wine while Eric and Adele talked about their hike to a fire lookout.
After dinner Adele suggested they play a game. Looking through the choices in the hall closet, they settled on Yahtzee. Lauren felt a little odd having them spend their last evening playing a table game with a middle-aged woman, but they seemed agreeable and it wasn’t like they had a houseful of kids to go home to. They could extend their romantic holiday at home if they chose.
Eric opened another bottle of wine, a syrah, and insisted Lauren taste it. “You’ll like it,” he said. “It was the best thing we tasted. Well, Adele barely tasted it. She had to spit.”
So Lauren assented, but took only a small splash. “You’re right. It’s very good.”
The three of them chatted amiably while they played. Lauren was enjoying herself with Eric and Adele. It wasn’t just that they were young and optimistic, although that was part of it. It was also because they were interacting with just her and not something they knew about her. They weren’t like friends and relatives who treated her like a person in mourning, who, whenever they saw her, were reminded that Faith had died. These two knew nothing of that. It felt good to just be Lauren and not Faith’s widow.
“Did you see those old records?” Adele asked, gesturing toward the stereo.
“Yes. I believe those belonged to Cassie’s grandmother.”
“I’d like to hear them,” Eric said. “Especially that one called ‘Mairsy Dotes.’ What’s the deal with th
at?”
Lauren laughed. “There’s no turntable. And I’m not entirely sure a modern turntable would play them anyway. I’ve never seen records like that myself.”
“How old are they?” Adele asked.
“Forties, fifties. I barely remember records at all. When I was young, we had cassette tapes. Now obsolete too.” Lauren shook her head. “It’s scary to think about how fast things are changing.”
“Not just for you,” Eric said, taking his turn with the dice. “Sometimes I think about what kind of world my kid’s going to live in. He, or she, will probably never wear a watch or roll down a car window or buy a paper map or carry a wad of cash in his front pocket.”
Lauren was reminded of something Faith had said during her illness, once they both understood she wasn’t going to make it. “The thing that bothers me most is that I won’t be around to see what crazy stuff people come up with next.” Being an anthropologist, she had a keen interest in what stuff people came up with. But she would have felt that way whenever she had died, at whatever age, because people do just keep coming up with crazy stuff.
“Our son or daughter,” Adele remarked, “will live in a world so different from ours, we can’t even imagine it.”
“Have you picked out names yet?” Lauren asked, taking the dice.
“No,” she said. “Not really. We’re still thinking about it.”
“Kevin,” Eric said firmly.
Adele shot him a warning look.
“If it’s a boy,” he clarified, his voice not entirely steady.
“I’ve told you I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Adele said. “Besides, let’s not talk about that now.”
Apparently there was a lot more to this than a simple disagreement over a name, Lauren realized. Despite Adele’s tone and threatening expression, Eric did not back down. Lauren suspected he was by now feeling the effects of more than half a bottle of wine.
“I don’t know why you won’t even consider it,” he said.
“Yes, you do. We’ve talked about this.”
They may not have forgotten her, but neither of them was looking at Lauren. They were leaning into one another with the posture of people preparing for a fight. Very awkward, she thought, setting the dice down silently on the table in front of her.
“We could at least do that much,” Eric insisted, his voice noticeably quavering now.
Adele jumped up from her chair, her expression severe. “I am not naming my son after your dead little brother and that’s final!”
Staring up at his wife, Eric looked disconsolate. He got up and left the room. Adele glanced at Lauren in exasperation, then she followed him out.
Deciding she would have another glass of wine after all, Lauren poured it, then left the game table and sat in the living room by herself. She heard nothing from the master bedroom. She tried not to speculate what this was about, hoping someone would explain. If not tonight, then maybe Cassie would tell her when she arrived.
Adele eventually returned and sat beside her on the couch, smiling reassuringly. “He’s watching TV in the bedroom,” she said.
Lauren nodded.
“I don’t know if you know anything about this,” she said.
“No. I didn’t know he had a brother.”
“He didn’t. I mean, the baby was never born. It was a miscarriage. There never really was a Kevin. That was just what Lucas, Eric’s father, told him they were planning to name the baby.”
“This baby—are we talking about Cassie or was this later?”
“Cassie. She was still married to Lucas. Eric was just over a year old when this happened. But it’s sort of haunted him all his life, this little brother he never had. He had a hard time. He didn’t make friends easily and he was very lonely as a child.”
Lauren recalled Cassie saying Eric was a bookish boy, not into sports. “But he would have been too young to have remembered anything about this.”
“Right. But his father told him about it. Lucas took it hard too. It was right after the miscarriage they got divorced. I don’t know what part that played. I do know that Lucas blamed Cassie for losing the baby. The whole thing was apparently very sad and hurtful.”
“Why did he blame Cassie?”
“Look, I know she’s your friend and I don’t want to say anything bad about her. And of course I didn’t know her then.”
“Neither did Eric,” Lauren pointed out.
“You’re right. Obviously, he’s gotten this from his father. But that happens in divorces. There’s a lot of resentment. It spills over onto the kids.” Adele sighed. “The way I’ve heard it, it wasn’t a friendly process. Lucas was still in love with Cassie. He didn’t even want a divorce. She’s the one who wanted out of the marriage. She had a—” Adele hesitated, looking uncomfortable.
“Girlfriend?” Lauren asked.
Adele nodded. “That was another reason it turned out so badly. Cassie was at a confusing place in her life when all of this went down. She was just starting to come out and it was hard on her and everybody else.”
“It doesn’t really make sense that Eric has this grief about this unborn baby. It isn’t his grief. It’s his father’s.”
“Right, but it’s how he feels anyway. He feels like he lost a brother. Ever since I knew I was pregnant, he’s been asking me if we could name our son Kevin. I didn’t even know why at first. But I started asking questions because he was so insistent about it, and that’s when I found out about this brother.”
“Under the circumstances,” Lauren said, “I can understand why you don’t want to name your son Kevin.”
Adele nodded and rolled her eyes. “Why would I want my son to be wrapped up in any way in this family mess? It’s like some weird Greek tragedy. The son hates the mother because she killed his brother, emasculated his father, and fucked his babysitter.”
Lauren swallowed hard, then, as Adele’s eyes widened at her own indiscretion.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she offered, leaning heavily on Lauren’s arm. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
In the morning, Lauren could hear Eric whistling cheerfully from the kitchen as she emerged from her shower. For him, perhaps, the evening’s drama had been a catharsis.
“Waffle?” he asked when she approached the coffee pot in her bathrobe and slippers.
“Sounds great.” She took her coffee and sat at the kitchen table in front of an empty plate.
“Adele’s in the shower. She’s already had breakfast.”
“Sorry I’m so late. I didn’t get to sleep until the wee hours.”
“No problem.” He slid a waffle onto her plate. “And I’m sorry I fell apart last night. Adele said she explained.”
Lauren nodded, pouring a small pool of syrup on her waffle. “She did.”
“Mother called. She’ll be here around noon.”
“Are we picking her up?”
“No. She’s rented a car.”
From his demeanor, Lauren surmised there would be no stabbings or beheadings or even tears, for which she was grateful.
“We’re staying just long enough to say hello, then heading out. We have to take off right away to get home before dark.”
While Adele and Eric packed, Lauren did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. By noon, they were all just waiting. Eric seemed happy about seeing his mother, which was hard to reconcile with what appeared to be a deep and painful anger. But that’s how family relationships are, Lauren reminded herself, thinking of her own complicated relationship with almost everyone in her family.
When Cassie arrived, there were smiles and hugs all around. She was animated and clearly overjoyed to see her son. After the flurry of greetings, Eric carried in her luggage and the four of them sat in the living room, talking. Lauren hung back in the conversation because of Eric’s upcoming departure. She and Cassie would have plenty of time to talk later. She asked Eric about his job and his new house and then asked Adele about her job. S
he seemed genuinely interested in their lives. As they talked, Lauren kept thinking about the scene from last night and about the deep-seated resentment Eric was keeping to himself. Did Cassie know about that?
“Anything else new with you two?” Cassie asked.
“We’re going to have a baby?” Adele announced.
Cassie shrieked and leapt from her chair, throwing her arms around Adele. Then she stood in front of her, holding both her hands. “When?”
“Seven months.”
“Congratulations! Lauren, did you hear?”
“Yes, Grandma Cassie.”
The entire hour between Cassie’s arrival and Eric’s departure went much like this. There was laughter and lively conversation and then another round of hugs and kisses as the young people prepared to depart. There was no sign of tension. The mood was lighthearted and jocular. Lauren suspected this was normally how Cassie and her son interacted. No conflicts. No controversy. And no real communication.
As their car rolled down the driveway, Cassie turned to Lauren and sighed deeply, then held out her arms. Lauren went to her and accepted her warm embrace. Now that they were alone, the mood shifted to a calmer and more intimate tone.
“I like your son,” Lauren told her. “He seems serious and thoughtful. He’s very polite.”
“He always has been. What about Adele?”
“I like her too. They’re a delightful couple.”
“Yes, they are. I think he’s made a good choice.”
Cassie stood staring at Lauren with a goofy smile on her face. “I’m so happy you’re here. This is going to be so much fun.”
The next hour was spent talking, and then they moved to the master bedroom where they stripped the bed and put on clean sheets.
“So I’m going to be a grandmother,” Cassie said, snugging up the mattress pad.
“How do you feel about that?”
“Old.” Cassie hooked the elastic corners of the bottom sheet into place.