Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
G ale pulled back into the beach bungalow driveway to find the house all lit up. It was beyond her why her mother would turn on what seemed like every light in the place, but its glow was iridescent at the edge of the pitch-black beach. For a moment, Gale thought, this is it. I’m home.
Gale grabbed her most important suitcase from the back—the one with a few changes of clothes, her pajamas, and her toiletries—and hauled herself to the front door. This time when she turned the knob, it opened. But when she entered the foyer, Evelyn yelped with alarm from the kitchen and cried, “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
Gale’s smile faded. She clicked the door closed behind her. “Hi, Mom?” Again, her voice wavered.
Evelyn appeared in the foyer after that, drying her hands. This certainly doesn’t look like a woman whose health is in decline. She wore a full face of makeup, including bright red lipstick, and she’d had her hair done recently so she was bleached blond, not unlike Marilyn Monroe. She was sixty-nine years old, but she might have passed for ten years younger than that. Gale’s first suspicion was that she was dating someone new. But she knew better than to pry.
What she really wanted to know was if Evelyn had been going to her doctor’s appointments. Had she hidden any hospital visits? Had she lied about any falls?
Gale set her suitcase down. A jolt in her stomach reminded her that normally, Anna and Piper were along for the ride and acted as shields between Evelyn and Gale. Anna and Piper doted on their grandmother, and she doted on them in return—stuffing them with chocolates and glasses of wine and begging them for information about their boyfriends. All Evelyn wanted was to peer into the younger women’s world and understand it. But Gale was no longer young. And Evelyn didn’t understand the nature of her visit because Gale had pulled an Evelyn and decided to keep it a secret from her.
“Where are the girls?” Evelyn asked even though Gale had explicitly said she was coming by herself.
“They have to work.”
Evelyn raised her eyebrows. Despite her tight-fitting black dress, she didn’t look uncomfortable. Gale was the kind of woman to remove her fancy clothing the minute she entered the house. “ Comfy clothes time! ” she’d always hollered to Peter. Oh, Peter. She realized she hadn’t thought of him for over an hour, and a swell of sorrow nearly swallowed her.
“And your husband?”
“He’s in Providence.”
Evelyn sniffed and turned on a heel, leading Gale back into the kitchen. “Where were you all this time?” Evelyn had the gall to ask.
Gale sniffed. She considered telling Evelyn that she’d been at the bungalow right when she’d said she would be—that Evelyn had been the one to let her down and not the other way around, but she’d been down that road with her mother. It never ended in Gale’s favor.
Gale sat down at the kitchen table by the window. It had the same view of the veranda outside. A spring wind had picked up, and Nantucket waves unfurled across the sands. Evelyn placed a glass of wine in front of her. “So what are you writing these days?”
Gale shifted on her chair. How often had she told her mother that she disliked discussing her current projects? Then again, she had a hunch that Evelyn would be able to see through her all the way and instinctively know that she wasn’t writing right now. That she had writer’s block.
“It’s a rom-com,” Gale said, which was technically true. How will I ever find the energy to write a romantic comedy as I stagger through a divorce? She wondered that for the first time.
“Rom-com? Huh. I thought those went out of style,” Evelyn said.
Gale pulled her hair into a ponytail and let it fall. Evelyn turned around and pointed at the zipper of her black dress. “Do you mind giving me a hand, hon?”
Gale got up and unzipped her mother’s dress, which was an act she’d performed hundreds of times over the years. Just the two of us for so many years. And now, it’s just the two of us again.
“Will you invite Anna and Piper to come?” Evelyn asked.
“They’re really busy, like I said. Anna’s got so much work with the upcoming election. And Piper has a new job at a pastry shop.”
Evelyn wore a slip and a pair of tights. She looked adorable, save for the sharp and alien look she was giving Gale right now.
“Who were you out with today?” Gale asked because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Just some friends.”
Gale sniffed and sat back down. It felt like a role reversal. She was reminded of being a teenager and trying to get away with things. Evelyn had always figured out what she was up to.
“Something’s up with you and that husband,” Evelyn said suddenly.
Gale’s jaw dropped too quickly. She scrambled to close her mouth again. How does she know?
Evelyn glowered. “Don’t tell me you left him.”
Gale crossed her ankles and swallowed. She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to lie to her mother. Evelyn always called her lies out, too.
“We’re just taking some time apart.”
Evelyn let out a brief cackle. “I know what that means.”
Gale stared at the floor.
“It means you left him,” Evelyn said. The words fell to the floor between them like rocks.
“Oh, Gale. Oh, didn’t I tell you how important it was to keep this one around? Didn’t I tell you that once you’re forty-five, nobody will want you the same way again?”
“I’m forty-six.”
“It proves my point!” Evelyn said.
Gale’s palms were sweaty. She didn’t know what to do. She had the sudden instinct to run out of her mother’s bungalow, jump in her car, and drive, drive, drive back to Providence. She could tell Peter she’d made a mistake. She could ask him to take her back.
No!
But she didn’t want to tell Evelyn that Peter was cheating on her. It made her look weak, for one. And for two, she was sure that Evelyn would say it was no big deal. Men cheated on their wives all the time. For all Gale knew, her father had cheated on Evelyn, which was why he wasn’t around.
Maybe that’s why Evelyn is acting like this. Maybe she remembers her own story—and wishes she’d acted differently.
But Gale decided there was no reasoning with her. Not tonight. She was exhausted. Maybe tomorrow, she’d take Hilary up on her offer and move into one of her guest bedrooms. She and Hilary could stay up late, exchanging stories over wine and fancy snacks. Maybe with Hilary around, Gale would break through her writer’s block and return to the screenwriter she’d been for decades. Maybe with that ego boost, she could return to her mother’s bungalow and say, Mom, when will you ever tell me the truth about yourself? About our life together?
Maybe she could finally ask Evelyn, Why have I always felt like there’s something missing between us?
“I’m going to bed,” Gale said. “Thanks for letting me stay, Mom. Love you.”
Gale left the kitchen and walked up the steps. It took a good forty seconds before she heard her mother’s weak reply, “Love you, too.”
The bedroom Gale selected for herself was the same one she’d slept in every summer during her childhood. Some of it remained decorated accordingly with posters from the late eighties and early nineties bands and movies. Her favorites were TLC and Mazzy Star. She’d been on the moodier side—reason enough to go into writing. It had been a way to process her feelings.
Gale dressed in pajamas and checked her phone to find more messages from Anna and Piper. Apparently, they were having a sleepover at Piper’s place. They wanted Gale to call them as soon as she could. Gale didn’t hesitate. Piper and Anna answered on speakerphone a second later.
“Mom!” they said in unison.
Gale’s heart swelled, and she closed her eyes. She thought she was going to fall apart. Her voice was startlingly high-pitched when she said, “My dears. How are you?”
They hesitated.
“We’ve been crying all day,” Piper said with a soft little laugh.
“We don’t want to make you feel bad!” Anna added. “We just can’t believe you’re gone.”
Gale fell back on the mattress and felt it shift gently beneath her. Her darling daughters suddenly felt so far away. Should I have asked to move in with one of them? No. I would take them in a heartbeat, but it isn’t supposed to be the other way around.
“How’s Grandma?” Anna asked, rebounding.
“Um. She’s good,” Gale lied. “She wishes you two were here.”
“We’ll visit!” Piper cried.
“Mom, is she being nice to you?” Anna asked. She was always so perceptive.
“Your grandmother is being so kind. She’s letting me stay! She doesn’t have to,” Gale said.
“Isn’t that bungalow yours, too? You basically grew up there,” Anna pointed out.
From downstairs came the sound of Evelyn’s speaker system. She was playing Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” and singing along. Gale wondered if she was trying to clue Gale into something.
“I won’t be here forever,” Gale reminded them.
“Right. Because you and Dad are going to reassess,” Piper hurried to say.
Gale’s stomach flipped over. She cursed Peter for putting that idea in their heads. “Right,” she said because she was too tired to explain.
“You should enjoy the beach as much as you can,” Anna said. “And read, read, read!”
“Are you writing?” Piper asked.
It was rare for Gale’s daughters to ask her about screenwriting. Usually, they discussed Peter’s projects rather than Gale’s at the dinner table. Her daughters knew to respect her boundaries. That, and they probably intuitively knew not to discuss Gale’s successes in her creative field in front of Peter, who felt insecure in his. A single sentence in a potato chip commercial. True art! Gale was beginning to question whether she’d ever respected Peter. Is that why he cheated? He felt emasculated.
Ugh. It doesn’t matter why.
“I’m writing,” Gale lied. “This island has such a creative energy to it. I used to write up a storm when I was a kid.”
“I’d love to read what you wrote as a kid,” Anna said.
“Maybe there’s something around here,” Gale said.
“Send us pictures of whatever you find,” Piper urged.
Gale promised she would, then sent them a thousand kisses and said good night. But the minute she hung up the phone, she felt the urge to call them back again, just to hear their sweet voices.
It was only nine thirty, which meant that Gale was miles from sleep. She got up, went to the bathroom, then returned to the old desk in her bedroom to rummage for those old short stories she remembered writing and illustrating as a kid. She remembered clearly sitting on the veranda as her mother dove under the waves. Sometimes when Evelyn returned, her face was red and strange, and Gale had a hunch she’d been crying. Gale had always wrapped her little arms around Evelyn and hugged her as tightly as she could until Evelyn laughed in spite of herself. That kind of physical contact was beyond them now.
Gale opened the top drawer to find pens and old markers that had dried out many years ago. “I need to throw these out,” she muttered but closed the drawer instead. Real organization would happen later. Not now. She opened the second drawer to find a copy of Little Women, which she remembered reading when she was eleven or twelve. Gale, Anna, and Piper had gone to see the new Greta Gerwig film a few years back and had wept together, holding hands. She knew for a fact that Evelyn liked the book, too. Had she seen the new movie?
Gale finally found a short story in the bottom drawer. She’d written it at the age of eight or nine with a protagonist with Gale’s name and a mother named Evie. Evie was a magic fairy princess, and Gale was her troll. Gale giggled at the funny illustrations, turning the pages to read on.
That was when the photograph dropped out of the stack of pages and fell onto the floor.
Gale bent down without thinking to pick up the photograph. It looked to be taken from the late seventies or early eighties and featured two toddler girls in matching frilly white dresses. Gale’s first guess was that they were Evelyn’s friends’ babies; the photograph had been given to Evelyn and then forgotten in this drawer.
But upon closer inspection, Gale’s heart seized.
The little girls in the photograph looked remarkably like Anna and Piper had when they were three years old. They had the same red ringlets, big eyes, and cherubic expressions. They held hands on a beach that didn’t look entirely unlike the beach out front.
Gale’s eyes filled with tears she couldn’t control. There was a ringing in her ears. Slowly, slowly, she turned the photograph over to see if any information was written on the back.
Sure enough, it read: the twins, 1981.
Gale collapsed on the edge of the bed and gaped at the photograph. Gale was born in 1978. And if Gale wasn’t mistaken, she was the toddler on the left.