“That’s cool. How’d you get interested in that?”
I’m not sure if I want to give him the real answer, then decide I will anyway. “When I was a kid, I had a stutter.” I wait a moment and then continue. “I had some learning disabilities too, trouble with reading and writing. Between not doing well in school and stuttering, I used to get teased a lot.” It can’t be more than twenty degrees, yet my face is warm with remembered shame. Connor was the only one who didn’t tease me. Once he got suspended for a day for pushing a kid after he sing-songed D-d-d-d-daisy; Connor who was always gentle and shy. For some reason, it never occurred to either of us to tell a teacher or one of our parents.
“That sucks. I’m sorry,” Todd says softly.
I shrug, not wanting it to be a big deal, though somehow it still is. “I went to speech therapy, and it changed my life. I still struggled in school, but I stopped stuttering. Kids stopped teasing me.”
He nods and squeezes my arm, and I’m glad he doesn’t say anything more. I feel like I’ve told him a secret, and I’m glad he doesn’t ruin it by saying something stupid or insensitive. I shove my hands deeper into the pockets of my coat, and we walk in silence. The beach stretches out before and behind us, an endless ribbon of white and gray. I think of Layla dying on a cold and empty beach just like this one, and I feel guilty for my own good fortune, for the simple blessing of being alive and able to appreciate the barren beauty of my home, even if just for a moment.
“Can I cook you dinner tonight?” he asks. It’s nearly three and we’ve been together since this morning. I don’t have to work tonight, but there’s homework I should be doing.
“Yes, please,” I say anyway.
When people like me want to cook dinner, we head to the local Stop and Shop. When people like Todd want to make dinner, they head to the farmer’s market. In summer the Heron farmer’s market is a tourist’s dream, bustling with hipsters and yoga moms, their cherubic babies strapped to their bodies as they fill canvas sacks with bundles of kale and heirloom tomatoes. In winter, there aren’t as many people. There are stalls set up; middle-aged couples with kids in tow mill around, carrying bags of produce and thermal mugs of coffee, people with jobs flexible enough that they can go buy a bag of beets in the middle of the day. I recognize a handful of people, but no one I really know, and though there’s no reason for me to feel uncomfortable, I do. Maybe it’s because the amount Todd spends on a few small paper bags of produce is close to my mother’s weekly grocery bill. Or maybe it’s the ease with which Todd takes out several crisp twenty-dollar bills to pay for one night’s dinner. Or maybe I feel guilty that, despite the scorn I feel for most of the people up here, I’m hungry for what they have.
Todd buys us both coffee and then holds my hand casually as we stroll through the barn, pausing to sample homemade jams and herb-infused olive oils. Part of me is already wondering how long it will be before rumors of the two of us spread across all of Great Rock. How long till Connor hears about me parading through the farmer’s market with my expensive coffee, bag of arugula, and Todd? But the other part of me, the bigger part of me thinks, Who cares? Who cares what Connor or anyone else on this small stupid island thinks. Because I won’t be here for much longer.
“Hey, Todd.”
I look up to see a girl a few years older than me standing at a booth that’s selling local cheese. She’s tall and slender with glossy brown hair that hangs over her shoulders. She wears jeans and old boots and an apron over a white wool sweater that probably cost more than what I make in three nights. Her eyes are on Todd, though not before she’s seen that he’s holding my hand.
“Hey, Zoe.”
He releases me to hug the girl, and I get a whiff of her shampoo as she rests her head momentarily on his shoulder, strong enough to cut through the smell of the ripe cheeses she’s selling. He steps back and motions to me. “Zoe, this is Daisy.”
I try to smile, but I’m sure it comes out crooked. Zoe smiles without actually looking at me. “What are you doing here this time of year?” she asks.
“Molly’s engagement party.”
“Oh, I heard about that!” Her pretty blue eyes light up. “I was away for the weekend, so I missed it. Meg and I went skiing.” I fade into the background while they talk about people I don’t know and hobbies I can’t afford. I wait for Todd to invite Zoe to join us for dinner, which will mean I’ll have to come up with some excuse to leave. Already I’m mourning the end of whatever this was.
“I promised Daisy dinner, so I’ll see you later.” He takes my hand once again, firmly, and I swear Zoe’s eyes are burning into my back as we walk through the crowded barn. He leads us out to the parking lot. In the car, I’m quiet, though I know my cheeks are still ablaze.
“Who was that?” I try to ask casually, but my voice cracks on the last word.
“Zoe?” Todd fiddles with the radio, settling on a bluegrass station. “Old friend.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Friend?”
He takes his eyes off the road and gives me a half-smile. “It’s complicated. You know what that’s like, right?”
I purse my lips in a tight smile. “Right.”
He reaches out a hand and places it on my knee. “Let’s forget about her, though, okay? Tonight, I’m with you.”
The cynical part of me hears the implication that tomorrow he might be with her, and I don’t answer. The whole thing seems pointless all of sudden. So what if I like him? He’s leaving in a few days. Where can this actually go? Besides the physical distance, the world he lives in is so completely removed from the world I live in. It feels like some cheesy movie from the eighties where the girl from the wrong side of the tracks likes the rich guy.
We drive in silence. I rest my head on the cold window and watch the rolling fields of Heron fly past. The hills are blanketed in untouched snow, endless acres of white interrupted by the occasional house or stone wall. I’ve zoned out so completely that I don’t even notice when we pull up to Todd’s house—not the cottage where I spent the other night, but the big house where his parents live. I turn to him questioningly.
He puts the car in park and cuts the engine. “If I’m going to make you a real dinner, I’ll need my parents’ kitchen. Molly’s barely got a frying pan.”
“Okay.” I suddenly feel awkward about going into his parents’ house.
“You’re quiet,” he observes.
“I’m fine. It’s just…” I trail off, unsure what I’m asking him. “What are we doing? What is this?” I gesture to the empty space between us.
His face breaks into an easy smile. “I don’t know yet. Can’t we just see?”
“I don’t know why you’d want to hang out with me.” It comes out wrong. My self-confidence isn’t so low that I don’t realize that guys think I’m pretty in a generic, blond sort of way. I get why he wanted to sleep with me the other night. What I don’t understand is why he’s bothered to see me again.
Todd turns toward me and tucks a thumb under my chin. “It’s pretty simple. I like you.” He kisses me gently, and the warm firm feel of his lips is both new and familiar.
“I like you too.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
He brushes a stray hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “I don’t know where this is going to go, and I know I’m only here for a few more days, but Boston’s not all that far. It’s not like I live in California. Can’t we just hang out?”
I nod. “Yeah, sure.”
“Cool.” He holds my eyes for another moment and then bends to pick up the paper sacks by my feet. “Let’s do some cooking.”
Todd’s kitchen is in the center of the house. Copper pots hang from hooks on the ceiling and the knives are secured to the wall on a magnetic strip. The marble counter runs nearly the whole length of the kitchen and the appliances are artfully hidden to blend in with the drawers. A bowl of lemons rests in the middle of a gnarled farmer’s table that could sit fifteen. One of the walls is all windows ove
rlooking the snowy field. I feel like I’ve stepped into the pages of a magazine.
Todd lays out the ingredients and gets a knife and cutting board.
“What can I do?” I ask.
“Just relax. I’m cooking for you tonight, remember?” He gets to work, nimbly chopping the vegetables, slicing onions and garlic with the efficiency of someone who knows his way around a kitchen. I’m sitting at the counter sipping a glass of wine and watching Todd add olive oil and salt to a salad when the front door opens, and I hear voices in the other room.
“My parents.” Todd glances in their direction and then they’re in the kitchen, still wearing their coats. His mother is tall and thin with ash blond hair cut in a severe bob. His father is shorter than his mother and thick around the middle, with a full head of white hair.
“Todd,” his father says formally.
“Hello, dear.” His mother smiles expectantly at me as she unwinds a soft purple scarf from around her neck, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to Todd or me.
“I thought you guys were going out to dinner,” Todd says, clearly caught off guard.
“No one told us that Bread and Butter was closed for the season. I had my heart set on their rack of lamb,” his mother pouts.
His father shakes his head. “I told her we could get burgers at Veronica’s instead, but she didn’t want to.”
She wrinkles her nose in displeasure. “I hate their burgers. Much too greasy and they never get the temperature right. Last time I asked for it medium, and I swear the heart was still beating.” She smiles at me again and then turns to Todd with her eyebrows raised. “Well? Are you going to introduce us?”
“Sorry. Daisy, this is my mother, Sarah, and my dad, Greg. Mom and Dad, this is Daisy…” He trails off as we both realize he doesn’t know my last name.
“Swain,” I add quickly.
Sarah extends a slim hand which I shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Daisy.” Greg’s hand is also extended, his palm slightly damp and meaty against mine. I fight the urge to wipe my hands on my jeans.
“Swain. Any relation to Cyrus Swain?” Greg asks.
“He’s my dad,” I say proudly.
“Good man. I worked with him at a town meeting not that long ago on some crowd control issues that came up over the Christmas parade in Egret.”
“Dad’s on the board of selectmen,” Todd explains.
I nod politely. My father hates town politics and always complains when he’s expected to appear at a town meeting.
“What are you making?” Sarah asks, leaning over the cutting board. “It smells delicious.”
“Just pork and some vegetables.” It’s not just pork and vegetables. It’s locally grown pork that was humanely slaughtered, with organic butternut squash and island greens from Sunset Hill Farm.
“Have enough for two more?” She reaches into the salad and pulls out a slice of yellow pepper, which she pops into her mouth.
“Oh.” Todd looks at me. “Sure, I guess.”
Sarah smiles at me. Her cool blue eyes sparkle. “Daisy doesn’t mind. Do you, dear?”
I force a smile. “Of course not.”
Dinner is long and tense. I spend the whole meal on my best behavior, though it doesn’t matter because no one says very much. Todd glances an apology across the table several times, but he and his parents don’t seem to have much to talk about other than what restaurants are closed for the season.
“This is wonderful, dear.” Sarah gestures to her plate.
“I can see why you’re a chef,” I add.
“Thanks.” Todd smiles.
“Should be in business school by now,” Greg mutters toward his plate.
“Don’t start, Greg,” Sarah says quietly.
Greg continues. “Instead he’s a college dropout and I’m out over a hundred grand.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a sip, then smiles at me tightly. “Kids.” He spits the words out but they lack venom, and I get the sense he brings this up fairly regularly in the same offhand and bitter way. Todd’s face is a blank mask and he focuses on the piece of pork he’s cutting.
“At least I have a job,” Todd says quietly.
“Don’t bring your brother into this,” Greg snaps. “He’s younger than you; he’s still trying to figure things out.”
“Right. That’s what he’s doing.” Todd shakes his head in disgust.
“Enough,” Sarah says, placing a hand on Greg’s forearm. “Daisy doesn’t want to hear all this. So, what do you do, dear?”
I swallow a lump of squash. Though the dinner is delicious, it might as well be oatmeal for all that I’m enjoying it. “I work for my mother’s catering company. And I’m taking college classes.”
“Oh, you live here? Year-round?” Her question makes me feel ashamed, even though she lives here too. “Where are you going to school then?”
“Four Cs. I commute a few days a week.”
“Four Cs?” Her delicate features furrow into a question.
“Cape Cod Community College,” I clarify. Everyone on the island knows what Four Cs is, unless they’ve never known someone to go to state school, much less community college.
“Oh, of course.” She looks down at her own plate, either embarrassed for me or herself, I’m not sure.
Greg doesn’t respond, having withdrawn from the conversation entirely after his jab about Todd dropping out. His white linen napkin lies beside his empty plate.
“This was delicious, Todd,” Sarah says, and Todd gives his mother an appreciative smile. I can already see the dynamic at work between the three of them; Todd and his father at odds, Sarah the peacemaker who travels back and forth between them, trying to smooth things over. It’s a rapport I’ve seen many times with Connor and his parents. Todd begins to clear the table, and I rise to help him. Greg takes his half-full wine glass and retreats to a room deeper in the house, a den I assume. Sarah brings a few items to the counter before saying goodnight. Todd and I load the dishwasher in silence and then start on the pots and pans.
“Sorry about that,” Todd says, focusing on the sinkful of dishes.
“It’s okay.” I rub the towel in circles on the flat bottom of a copper pan.
“My dad and I have a hard time being in the same room without fighting.” He lifts the pan out of my arms and hangs it on a hook. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and I see the fine pale hair on his muscled forearms. “I’m sure this isn’t what you had in mind when you agreed to have dinner with me.”
“My mom and I fight all the time too,” I tell him.
“Really? About what?” He hands me the wooden salad bowl.
“I don’t know. Everything?” I try to smile. “My mom’s kind of crazy, and she’s never happy with me. It’s like no matter what I do, it’s not enough and it’s not right. When Ian’s around, it’s easier. But when it’s just the two of us… not so much. So… we fight.”
“I always liked working for your mom. She seemed like a pretty cool lady,” Todd says. He’s not defending her or arguing with me, it’s simply an observation.
“She is. She’s just…” I search for the right word. “Unreliable.”
Everyone always likes my mom. She has a way of making people feel special. Walking into the grocery store, her face bursts into a grin when she bumps into an acquaintance, or she’ll grab you in a bear hug and hold on tight. The thing they don’t realize is that her attention never stays on one thing for very long.
I fold the dishtowel into a neat square and stare down at the blue-and-white stripes. “My sister died when I was eleven. Serena was seven. When she died, my mom kind of lost it. She sent me to live with Connor’s family because she couldn’t deal with anything. Then she wanted me to move back home like nothing had ever happened.” I swallow a lump in my throat. “My dad’s always been the more stable parent, you know?”
“I didn’t know about your sister. I’m sorry.” His words are sincere, not rushed and awkward the way people sometimes get when
I mention Serena. Not that any of us talk about her much.
“We don’t talk about her,” I tell him now, shaking my head. “My mom can’t, so I don’t really either. Sometimes with my dad, but it’s hard for him too.” When Serena died, it was like she became a ghost, her invisible presence controlling everyone, much as she did in life. When Serena was upset, she was wild, sweeping up everything in her path. It’s almost possible to forget what she was like when she was happy, how she’d lie down next to me on the couch while we watched TV, thumb tucked in her mouth, soft blond hair spread against my hip. Some nights, she’d sneak into my bedroom in the middle of the night, and I wouldn’t even realize she was there until I woke up the next morning. Sleeping, she looked so peaceful, all the fire and sass drained right out of her. It’s hard to believe she’d be sixteen now.
“Bret’s the baby in our house, so whatever he does is okay. He’s just figuring things out.” Todd shakes his head. “What I can’t figure out is if they really don’t know how fucked-up he is right now or if they’re just in denial.” He scrubs the sink with a sponge till the silver gleams. “I’m not sure which is worse.”
I suddenly feel close to tears, and I’m not sure why. I stand behind Todd and rest my body against the length of his, pressing my cheek into his back. I close my eyes and breathe in the musty wool of his sweater. Todd turns around and pulls me to him. He’s taller than me, and my head only comes up to his chest.
“Pretty heavy stuff for a first date, huh?” I nod. “Let’s get out of here.”
Outside the air is sharp and cold. There’s not a single house or major road nearby, and it feels like we’re the only people on the island. For once I see why someone would fall in love with Great Rock. We walk down the driveway and the only noise in the stillness of the night is the sound of our shoes in the snow. Todd presses me into the cold metal of his car, and I close my eyes and get lost in his kiss, only air and the night sky and Todd’s mouth on mine.
Everybody Lies Page 14