Chapter 12
Twelve
Never Have I Ever
Cole: Hey, if I pick up breakfast sandwiches, what do you want?
Me: Pork roll, egg and cheese on a kaiser roll
Cole: You can take the boy out of Jersey but you can’t take Jersey out of the boy
Me: ??
“OH MY GOD, THIS IS YOUR CAR?”
I can’t help shaking my head as Cole pulls up next to the curb in front of my apartment building. He’s driving a tiny red two-seater convertible with the top down, his hair tied back in a messy bun and a shit-eating grin on his face.
I trot down the stairs, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, and he hops out of the car without opening the door. “Why are you a literal Ken doll?”
“Bitch, I’m Barbie.” He pulls me in for a tight hug, planting a kiss on my cheek, then takes my bag. “Thanks for listening to me and packing light. Do you have sunscreen on? A hat?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
Cole smirks, and I know what he’s going to say before he says it. “You know, I always thought that if one of us was going to be Daddy, it would be —”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
When I get into the car, there’s a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee waiting for me.
“Harjeet says hi, by the way,” Cole says as he buckles his seatbelt. “He also says not to root for the Red Sox and to remember that his coffee is better. Oh, and one other thing —”
He digs into his pocket and passes me a tiny blue clamshell case, about the size of a dollar coin. Inside, there’s a pair of silicone earplugs.
“I’ve been meaning to give you those for a while because they’re supposed to be for — you know, when you’re sensitive to noise. I thought you might need them for the trip, but they’d probably be good for other stuff too.”
“Hey, thanks.” I try them on, and immediately, the city noise around us is significantly less intrusive. “That was really thoughtful of you.”
“Anything to make you give me that look,” Cole grins, and throws the car into gear.
This is my only week of freedom between the end of summer session and the start of the fall semester, and we’re on our way out to Cape Cod to spend it with Sabrina and Seth.
Sabrina’s dad has a cottage in Osterville that backs up against the Nantucket Sound, and it’ll be just the four of us all week.
I’m going to have to be careful, because I’ve gotten so used to touching Cole when we’re on our own, but I know we’re keeping this casual thing just between us.
Still, I guess it will be good to get to know Sabrina a little better, and to spend time with Seth, too.
I feel like I’ve talked with him more in the last few months than in the previous five years, and it has been sort of nice.
The drive out to the Cape from Brooklyn is kind of a lot.
Cole tries shouting over the noise of the wind, but with my hair whipping around my face and the rushing in my ears, I can’t really process what he’s trying to tell me.
So he reaches out and squeezes my hand and smiles at me, and then he lapses into silence.
I enjoy sneaking peeks at him out of the corner of my eye — his lanky body folded into the small cab, long legs encased in ripped purple skinny jeans, his tanned forearm flexing as he grips the gear shift.
And when we’ve been driving for about an hour, he pulls into a rest stop just off Route 95 to fill up the gas tank.
“You know, I don’t like the looks of those clouds up ahead,” he says, leaning against the car. “Better safe than sorry.”
So he puts the top up, and when the first raindrops begin to drum on the soft roof half an hour later, his prediction is proven right.
But I know he did it for me, too, because he keeps glancing over at me, chattering about local history as town names flit by on the highway.
And when we pass the exit for Old Lyme, he tells me that it’s the town where he grew up, that Aldens have lived there since it was first settled in the seventeenth century.
And it gives me pause to realize that I’ve known Cole since we were teens, that I could map the topography of every ridge and valley from his collarbone to his navel, but until today he’d never told me a thing about this place where he was raised.
It’s the middle of the afternoon by the time we arrive in Osterville, the rain a distant memory, and when we pull up to the house, my jaw nearly hits the floor.
“Um, I thought you guys said this was a cottage?”
Cole throws back his head and laughs. “Rich people talk, baby.”
The cottage is a three-story mansion with a wraparound porch and a manicured green lawn.
It has a steeply pitched roof and weathered wooden shingles as a nod to New England architecture, but the scale is so massive that the charming effect somewhat disappears amidst the sheer ostentation.
On the far side of the house, the Nantucket Sound glints blue in the afternoon sun, stretching as far as I can see.
And Sabrina is already off the porch, running towards us in a pair of tiny shorts and a crop top, her feet bare in the lush grass.
“You made it!” She throws herself into Cole’s arms, and he picks her up clear off the ground, swinging her around once before putting her down again.
“Hello, gorgeous!” he trills, and I swear his voice is an octave higher. “Where’s your better half?”
“In the kitchen, where he belongs.” She smirks mischievously. “We didn’t know when you guys were going to show up and whether you’d be hungry so we made salads and stuff. Well, he did. I just sat on the counter and got in his way.”
Cole cackles. “That’s my girl!”
Sabrina turns to me. She hesitates for a moment, but then she holds out her arms, and I give her a hug. “Ezra! I’m so glad I get to spend a whole week with you.”
“Um — me, too. Thanks for inviting me.”
We grab our bags and follow Sabrina into the house.
Inside, it’s just as overwhelming as it was from the road.
The ceilings are high and the spaces are cavernous, and it feels like everything is gleaming white.
There’s a sweeping staircase lit by a crystal chandelier, a great room with a sectional that could probably seat twenty people, and beyond that, a view into the kitchen, where my brother is bent over, rummaging through a spotless, stainless-steel refrigerator.
“Look who I found outside!” Sabrina calls, and Seth turns, a smile splitting his face.
“Hey, you guys!” Seth strides to meet us, and there’s another round of hugs and handshakes. When we’re all done, Sabrina looks us up and down.
“Do you want to go upstairs and pick rooms? There are eight bedrooms, but I thought everyone would want to look out at the water, so I had those ones made up.”
“I mean, I don’t really care which one I get,” I shrugged. “Cole, maybe I’ll just take the one you don’t want — and Seth, I’ll stay here and help you?”
“Works for me,” Cole agrees.
He takes my bag, and I follow Seth into the kitchen. As we go, I’m pretty sure I can hear Sabrina whisper the words so cute to Cole, and they’re both laughing as they head up the stairs. They probably have a lot to say to each other.
“So, uh — how many people are you expecting for dinner?” I ask as I look around.
Somehow, Seth has managed to cover every flat surface with food, which is saying something.
There’s a pot of pasta boiling on the stove, a pile of fruit on the counter next to the sink, and a partially-carved rotisserie chicken next to a huge bowl of mixed ingredients.
“Yeah, I got carried away,” Seth laughs. “Bree wanted to order in, but I dunno — this felt special, somehow? Having you here, and getting to know Cole when I know how much Bree loves him. I just didn’t want to eat out of cartons all week.”
I nodded. “Okay, what can I do?”
Seth surveys the carnage in the room. “Start the fruit salad? I have this chicken salad mostly under control, just need to finish chopping and then mix it up.”
“Cool, I can handle that.”
It’s been ages since the last time we were in a kitchen together, but we work together well, and sometimes I forget how funny my brother can be.
I’m having a good time, and I don’t even mind when Cole and Sabrina come back downstairs and flop down on the couch together rather than coming in to help us.
Cole has changed into a tank top and shorts, and I definitely don’t mind the view.
We have dinner out on the back patio at golden hour, the breeze coming off the Sound cooling our skin, and it feels right somehow, sitting here with the three of them.
Cole fits in with Seth immediately, and Sabrina is a chatterbox full of outrageous stories.
I can see why Seth is smitten with her. And Cole keeps his hands to himself, but his foot brushes mine under the table and when I look up at him, he’s gazing at me steadily, a soft smile on his face.
We’re reaching the end of the meal when I realize my beer is empty, and I push back my chair. “Hey, I’m going in for another drink — anybody else want one? Cole? Seth? Sabrina?”
“Ezra.” Sabrina puts both hands on the table and leans toward me with much more authority than I thought she possessed in her tiny frame.
I stop in my tracks. “Yeah?”
“Are you about to be my brother or not?”
“Um, yes?”
“Not even my grandmother calls me Sabrina,” she declares, and Cole starts to laugh.
“Yeah, dude, I’ve been wanting to say something for months now.”
“Okay, uh —” They’re teasing me, but I don’t mind. “Bree, can I get you another cherry sour?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” She settles back in her chair, and Seth takes her hand, winking at me. I shake my head with a grin, heading back into the house.