Happily and Madly

by Alexis Bass

  Sepp is quiet, so I add, “This food is the exception.”

  He nods again, smiling this time, and leans forward to take a bite of freshly dipped crab, letting his plate catch the butter.

  Chelsea and Edison are walking in the sand. They’re several feet away and the shore is crowded, but they stand out. Their smiles. Her laugh that is part shriek. The way he rushes at her and carries her fireman-style into the water.

  “Look at those two,” he says, shaking his head. “So in love. Do you believe it?”

  “Believe what? In love?”

  “That they’re in love.” He nods toward the ocean, where they are running hand in hand out of the water.

  “I believe she is.”

  Sepp laughs. He points at me with a crab leg. “I like your honesty.”

  I feel a flash of pride for reading Sepp the right way, knowing he’d like straight answers.

  “Why did you ask me about them?”

  He pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with the edge of his thumb to avoid touching them with his butter-drenched fingertips. “To hear your answer.”

  “That sounds like … a test.”

  His smile gets bigger.

  “All of life,” he says, pausing to take a sip of beer, “is a test.”

  “Well, did I pass?”

  He laughs quietly to himself again, watching me. “You knocked it out of the park.”

  There’s something deceiving about Sepp, a loose disposition that seems careless but at the same time like he’s seconds away from snapping. I look back to the shore, where Edison and Chelsea are sitting shoulder to shoulder in the sand, gazing out at the water.

  “Have you ever heard the saying Fake it till you make it?” he says. “That works, by the way.” There’s a stillness to him as he sets down the gutted lobster tail he’s moved on to and looks at me. “It works every single time.”

  “Thanks for the advice.” Sarcasm laces my tone, and for a moment, I think I’ve offended him. He leans back a little as if to get a better look at me.

  “You know, you seem pretty harmless.”

  “Thanks?” I shrug. “I am pretty harmless.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “Have you ever heard the saying Don’t believe everything you hear?”

  Sepp laughs. “Maris,” he says. There’s a moment of us slurping up the last of our seafood before he continues. “I think we’re going to be good friends.”

  He’s probably easily impressed because he’s been drinking, but I take the compliment anyway and clink my lemonade against his beer when he holds it up for a toast.

  We sit there looking at the view, listening to the chatter around us, both of us too full to talk.

  It’s peaceful, until I spot a familiar face meandering through the crowd. There’s gauze and bandages taped carelessly around his neck. Cuts on his forehead. A bruise on his chin. The knuckles on his right hand are purple. I rub the sun out of my eyes as he gets closer. He’s looking straight ahead, dressed as nicely as everyone else in a white button-up and khakis. His collar is popped and open to make room for the bandages. His hair is combed back, and he’s completely clean of dirt. But I recognize him. Broad shoulders. Clear blue eyes. Wide-set mouth. There’s no doubt in my mind. He’s the man from the island, the one they called Archaletta.

  “What are you looking at?” Sepp asks.

  “Nothing.” Now my eyes are scanning the beach for Edison. For the other men that were with Archaletta that day. Maybe they are here to confront him. Maybe the run-in will be an accident.

  I find Chelsea, but she is alone, making her way toward Trisha, who is sitting under the umbrella with Phoebe.

  “Let me take your plate,” Sepp says, dumping the shells from my plate onto his and stacking them before he stands up.

  I stand up, too. I decide I should find Edison, to warn him, at least, even if part of me thinks he deserves to have these lies come crashing down on him. But maybe no one deserves what might happen if Archaletta sees Edison here; if he’s still angry, still out to get what he’s owed. Undeniably, I can’t help but think, What would he do without me, if I’m not there to stop the bad thing from happening?

  “Where are you going?” Sepp asks.

  “Just around,” I say, shrugging. His interest is jarring. It’s probably due to all the beer he’s had that he finds me amusing enough to want to keep tabs on. “I’ll be somewhere on the beach. Just need to stretch my legs.” Too many excuses, but Sepp doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Okay, then,” he says, nodding at me once more and giving me a sideways smile as he moves toward the area with garbage cans.

  I don’t spot Edison, but I see Archaletta. He seems to know exactly where he’s going, though he’s stumbling a little, like maybe he’s been drinking. That’s not a great combination—anger with the lowered inhibitions of alcohol.

  He weaves past the food, past the canopies sitting atop the flatter part of the beach, past the Duval tent, where there is no sign of Edison. Past the white balloons tied to the posts marking the start of Main Street. He’s headed toward the place where Main Street merges into a roundabout, like a driveway to this beach.

  Maybe this is good riddance and he’s going to catch a cab back to wherever he came from. He reaches the roundabout and crosses.

  I do hear it, that useless voice in my head saying maybe it’s best not to follow him; it’s best to leave Edison to solve his own problems, his own lies. But I think of the one true thing I know about Finn and Edison: the look in his eyes, how afraid he was of Archaletta that day he thought he was about to die. And I cross the street.

  Chapter 18

  He passes the shops, strolling casually, though not walking a straight path, hands in his pockets, glancing at the window displays. And then he dips into an alleyway past the ice cream shop.

  Even only a few steps down the narrow alley and I feel the isolation of it—the noises from the clambake already falling away, the coolness of the shade, the smell of sizzling butter replaced with the smell of rotting fruit and decaying seafood from the trash bins. I watch as Archaletta lets himself stumble farther down the alley; it seems to be getting harder and harder for him to walk. He pauses to lean against the wall and digs his phone out of his pocket. He drops it immediately and nearly topples over as he bends down to pick it up. When he finally does look at the screen, he lets out a noise that is half-moan and half-laugh. He shakes his head and turns, his back against the wall. His expression is sad, but he’s still making that noise like he finds something funny, and every once in a while a smile breaks through his expression.

  His head turns my way quicker than expected. His eyes widen, and I know it’s too late for me to duck behind the trash bin between us; he’s already recognized me.

  “They were right about you,” he slurs, struggling to lift his arm as if it is too heavy as he points at me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. I shouldn’t be afraid of him, knowing he can barely walk, but my hands are trembling, and my voice comes out shaky, too. “What do you want?”

  This makes him laugh that strange sad laughter again. I can see the blood seeping through the bandage on his neck; he is dripping in sweat, his hair wet from it. When he rolls to face me, his eyes are heavy and red, like he’s very drunk.

  “You tell me,” he says, shaking his head. “Hey.” His voice turns serious. “I get it, you know? All that money. Who could stay away?” He breaks out into a chuckle that makes his whole body shudder. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t.” His laugher turns to a violent cough, and as it subsides, he lets his eyes focus on me. “It’s a curse, though; I hope you know that.”

  He lifts himself up off the wall and stumbles toward me, faster than I thought he was capable of moving.

  “I’m going to tell you something,” he says, taking a step closer as I take a step back. His breath is sour. He reaches across the bin, and his fingers dig into my arm. I try to jerk out of his grasp, but this
only makes him pinch me harder. “I am not the dangerous one,” he says in a loud whisper, his expression getting darker. “You should run.”

  The second he lets go of me, that’s exactly what I do.

  Chapter 19

  I run until I am back down Main Street, back to the beach. My hands are still trembling, and my heart is beating like it wants to break through my rib cage. My arm is still hot from where Archaletta grabbed it. I try to rub out the feeling of his hand clamped around my arm.

  I try to shake the sound of his voice from my mind. They were right about you. I am not the dangerous one. What was he talking about? Drunken ramblings that came across like a warning. But Archaletta was the one in over his head. He was the one who tried to ambush Edison on the island by bringing two of his friends. He was the one who tried to beat him senseless to get him to pay. All that money. Who could stay away? I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

  I scan the beach for Edison. The Duvals’ canopy is empty.

  The sun is getting lower in the sky, and people are coming to the beach to enjoy the last moments of sunshine, gathering with their families, setting their lawn chairs so the arms are touching, sharing beach towels, getting as close as possible. The New Browns are all bunched together on a beach blanket. George is in the middle, with Phoebe on his lap, each of his arms around Trisha and Chelsea. They lean into him. If I were to join them, where would I fit?

  I continue walking down the beach, looking for Edison, for Sepp, for anyone else.

  I send Trevor a text. I miss you.

  I miss you, too, beautiful girl. And a second later: Come over.

  This is what I forget sometimes. I only ever matter to Trevor when I’m there in front of him. There for him. He didn’t see past the girl who came when he called and didn’t shy away from doing the things he wanted to do. He never saw the parts of me that existed when I wasn’t with him—the parts of me that had to pay for what I did when I was with him.

  At least when someone lets you down, you can stop expecting things from them.

  I keep walking along the shore, weaving between the flocks of people also enjoying the sweet spot of the wet sand where the tide comes in. There are still a few people in the water, floating or standing or gliding past on their paddleboards, shadows against the yellow and orange sky. A few feet away, I see Karen standing in the water, her long macramé dress getting drenched at the bottom. She is staring out at the sky as if it’s going to tell her a secret.

  I wade out next to her. She doesn’t acknowledge my presence, but I don’t mind. It feels less lonely watching the sky change colors with her next to me.

  The sky finally turns gray, and I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. A text from George telling me to meet them at the Duval canopy. I send my reply quickly.

  “We should head back,” Karen says, her expressionless voice startling me. I wasn’t sure she’d registered it was me standing next to her. She’s still looking straight ahead, but then she turns to me. “They’ll be wondering where we are.”

  I nod. But she is already wandering out of the water. She waits for me on the dry sand before she starts walking again and keeps my pace as we retreat to the Duval canopy.

  Chapter 20

  The Duvals are wearing with the day. They have all returned to the canopy by the time Karen and I arrive. Sepp is passed out on the couch. Oswald already went home, Warren tells us.

  “Past the old man’s bedtime,” Edison jokes. He is standing behind the couch, pacing slightly. He seems the most awake, but also like he’s depleted. Like this is the last of his energy burning off before our eyes.

  The New Browns look ready to go also, Phoebe passed out in George’s arms, their beach bags packed, the umbrella folded.

  Warren starts going off about the food. Apparently, their chef is better. We’ll see tomorrow, he promises.

  “I imagine we’ll be seeing you on most days,” Warren says. This captivates the New Browns, and they lean in wearing wide eyes and wider smiles to listen to Warren’s summer plans for them. Helicopters to the north islands. Taking out the yacht, the sailboat, the Jet Skis. Drinking Jamaican rum and eating nothing but the freshest seafood. He even mentions some elaborate party they’ll be attending in Maine, the private jet more than ready to accommodate us, and he’ll happily make a call to get us added to the guest list.

  Edison nods along. But he is only part Edison now. Part of him looks distracted, like the boy on the island.

  I go over to the stainless steel drink cart in the back corner of the canopy, brushing lightly past Edison when I walk by. I take my time pouring myself a glass of water, wondering if he’ll take the hint and join me here. I’ve taken three sips before he finally does.

  “Did you see him?” I say in a quiet voice.

  “Did I see who?”

  “Archaletta.”

  Edison doesn’t say anything. He brings the glass he is holding to his lips, even though he hasn’t filled it yet. Then he laughs. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Because I saw him on the beach. A few hours ago. I tried to find you, but—” I debate telling him that I followed Archaletta to make sure he didn’t have his friends with him and because I thought there was a chance Edison might need my help again, even though Archaletta seemed way too drunk to be of any harm to anyone. But I don’t want him to know, embarrassed suddenly that I went to any trouble for Edison, especially now that he’s laughed at me.

  “You tried to find me?” He smiles.

  His smugness right now is unbearable; I don’t know what I was thinking—I grab my water and turn to go.

  “Wait, wait.” He puts his hand on my back, keeping me there, and with the other hand uses the tongs to place ice in my glass as a cover for why we’re still there. “I’m sure you didn’t see Archaletta.” He waits for me to meet his eyes. “It was someone else.” He nods his head slowly, like he’s waiting for me to agree—he wants me to nod back.

  I don’t do what he wants. “Archaletta said something to me.”

  Edison is quiet.

  “Do you want to know what he said?”

  Edison takes his time filling the glass he was using as a prop. He turns around so he’s leaning against the cart and he’s facing the Duvals and the New Browns where they sit under the canopy. He takes a long drink of water.

  “Look at them,” he says. I turn around so we are standing shoulder to shoulder with our backs to the drink cart. “Don’t they look happy?”

  I know what he’s doing. He’s threatening their good time, telling me I could ruin it if I keep pushing him on this. Destroy Chelsea’s happiness, shatter all the plans the New Browns have made with Warren for a summer full of Duval luxury. It’s meant to remind me that if their vacation is ruined, mine would be, too. It works.

  I slowly sip my water as goose bumps rise on my arms.

  I watch as Chelsea’s eyes meet Edison’s from the far end of the canopy. She blushes as he smiles at her. I smile at Chelsea, too. She waves at me, so I give a small wave in return.

  “The stuff that happened on the island, the thing with Archaletta, it was honestly nothing,” Edison says, his voice ripe for the summer, loose and carefree. “I fell in with the wrong people playing poker, and that’s all. I’m sorry you’re so bored you have to make all of this into something bigger than it is.”

  He lifts off from the drink cart and goes to join the New Browns and the Duvals.

  A few minutes later, we’re all saying our goodbyes, our see-you-tomorrows. Edison walks us to Vienna, carrying one of our beach bags, and helps us all into the boat. He leaves no extra glance for me, no subtle squeeze of my hand as I step off the dock.

  Maybe I do that, make things bigger in my head. The cliff I jumped off, others were jumping, too. It was a known spot along the river. How risky was it really when so many had been there before I had and survived? Still, I’d held my breath on the way down as if it might’ve been my very last seconds alive. Trevor wasn’t even that much of a risk; I kn
ew entirely what I was getting with him, both the good and the bad. I didn’t love him enough to make losing him hurt the way losing someone you love is supposed to hurt.

  So maybe it was only a fight over a poker game, Edison being flaky about what he owed, Archaletta ambushing him, Edison stabbing him in self-defense. I can’t make sense of what Archaletta said to me in the alley, but maybe it doesn’t matter anyway and they were simply ramblings of a drunk person.

  I sit near the front of the boat as we ride back so the wind is right on my face and I can see all sides of the cove.

  A kiss can be blown out of proportion, too—I know that. But not the lantern light I saw last night, the boy from the island waiting for me to meet him.

  Chapter 21

  In the morning, Edison stops by for breakfast, bringing with him freshly baked croissants, French roast coffee grounds, and steaming cinnamon-pecan buns, so we get to start the day with a taste of the Duvals’ personal chef without even leaving the beach house.

  In the afternoon, we take Vienna across the cove to the Duvals’. The Duvals have two docks at their private beach. It’s an expanse of white sand sitting several feet below their house. Their beach is at the end of the north side of the cove, segregated by the sharp walls of the cliff, making it only reachable by boat or from the Duvals’ estate by a long staircase etched in the side of the cliff.

  Edison and Sepp wave us over to the dock on the far right and help George tie up the boat. Over breakfast, Edison had said that we didn’t need to bring anything except ourselves, but we still brought our towels and Phoebe’s diaper bag and a portable playpen that doubles as her traveling crib. This appears to be excessive of us. The Duvals have everything we could want or need—lounge chairs and sun chaises, a towel valet with fluffy cobalt towels that match the several beach umbrellas already propped up around the beach, food, and beverage carts. There is even a shaded playpen set up for Phoebe and enough sand toys to keep her occupied for days. Entertainment comes in the form of badminton and volleyball, paddleboards, surfboards, large tubes and inflatables for floating, snorkel gear, Jet Skis. It is everything Warren promised at the clambake and more.