Chapter 47
47
Monday, August 25
The Last Day at the Lake
I spend two days in a numb fog, wishing I never came to the lake, before I pull myself out of it. And then I block his number. I refuse to see him. There’s a full week left of August, but Nan and I are going home early.
I pack our things into the car and take one last look around the cottage. I say goodbye to the view, to the curtains and pillowcases and tablecloths Nan and I made this summer, to the jar of matchbooks and the shelf of Harlequins. I say goodbye to my bedroom. I leave the key in the outhouse. But I don’t say goodbye to Charlie.
I spend my first week in the city focused on creating a new routine. I find a darkroom to rent. I carve out time in my schedule to work on my own art. I pick a date to meet with Elyse to show her my new photos. And every morning, I swim.
Today begins the same way as the previous seven. Shower. Swim cap. Goggles. Climb onto the diving platform and slice through the water. Twenty laps. Thirty. I don’t stop, don’t slow, don’t think. I breathe and kick and count, a crystalline clarity smoothing the sharp angles of my pain. Forty. Fifty. I get to sixty faster than I did yesterday. But there’s no pleasure in it. Like every other day, I’m not even out of the water before reality crashes into me.
I’ve never borne this type of heartbreak. It’s both the loss of what I had with Charlie—our unlikely friendship and connection, the ease of being with him—and the loss of what could have been. I’ve done my best to cope, throwing myself into a new project, spending hours in my studio, and then retreating to the solace of my condo. I used to find calm in the cool polished concrete floors and clutter-free surfaces, the gleaming marble and spotless glass. But after being at the cottage with Nan and Charlie, it feels lonely. The sleek furniture Trevor picked seems even more alien. And despite the clamor of sirens and horns and garbage trucks outside, it’s too quiet.
I stand next to the pool, hands on my knees, bent at the waist, breathing heavily, fighting back tears.
“You’re okay,” I tell myself. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
I feel a hand on my back. “Do you need to sit?” A woman’s voice.
I’m making a scene. Amazing. “Yeah,” I say. “I think I overdid it.”
“Here. Let me help.”
The stranger puts an arm around my shoulders and a hand on my waist and guides me to the bench. I pull off my goggles and take a few more breaths with my head between my knees.
“Thanks,” I say, straightening. I find myself looking into the big brown eyes of an extremely pregnant woman in an orange bathing suit. Her hair is twisted into a knot at the top of her head. “Percy?”
She blinks at me. “Oh my god, Alice. I didn’t recognize you. Are you here a lot? I started coming when I got pregnant. I was on the swim team when I was a kid, and Sam thought it might be a good way for me to cool off and move a little, even if I’d rather be sleeping in on a Saturday morning.” She lowers her voice. “Are you all right?”
I feel the tears welling again as I remember Charlie saying how much Percy talked. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I lie. “Thanks for giving me a hand.”
“I heard about what happened with Charlie. At least, I heard a brief version from Sam that involved some choice profanities. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. The last thing I want is for her to feel bad for me.
“I can tell it isn’t fine. Don’t forget, I saw you two together.” Percy chooses her next words carefully. “This year has been hard for Charlie, worse than any of us could have anticipated.”
“You mean because of his dad?”
“That’s part of it. I know Sam isn’t looking forward to his thirty-fifth birthday, either. But there are other things you don’t know,” she says quietly. “Sam and I have tried to get Charlie to be more open about it. I think he…well, it doesn’t matter what I think. Just please have some patience. I’ll keep working on him.”
“Don’t bother,” I tell her, sounding stronger than I feel. I grab my goggles off the bench and stand. “It was nice to see you. Enjoy your swim.”
“Alice,” Percy calls when I’m almost at the changing room. She walks toward me slowly, a hand on her stomach. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to Charlie, but could we stay in touch? We could come for a swim, get something to eat after?”
I frown at her. “Why?”
She laughs. “Because I like you. Do I need a better excuse?”
For some inexplicable reason, the back of my nose stings. I shake my head.
Percy smiles, big and broad, the kind of smile that warms you right through. “Good. Next Saturday? I’ll text you.”
I sit in the quiet of my condo with a peppermint tea, blinds closed to the September sun. I’m shaken by what Percy said this morning. It takes everything I have not to call Charlie and ask him about it. But I plan to hold on to my last sliver of dignity. I told him what I wanted, and he rejected me. I let him see me, the real me, not some kind of constructed, unblemished version. I showed him who I was, and it wasn’t enough.
But I miss him. His smirk. The firefly flicker of his eyes. His voice and laugh and teasing. The way he listens. I don’t know whether there’s a place in my heart for him as just a friend, but I don’t know if I can cut him out of it entirely, either.
“You’re okay,” I tell myself. Just like I have after every other disappointment and heartache. I will not think about how I felt so much more for Charlie after just two months than I ever did with Trevor. I will put my head down and focus on the work that I love. I’ll buy myself the floor lamp I’ve been eyeing. Maybe repaint my bedroom. Sink back into the life I’ve made for myself, comfortable and safe.
I spend the rest of the day curled on my couch with my laptop, looking through shots of Nan from the summer. It’s not until my stomach voices its discontent that I peel myself away from the screen, eyes dry, neck aching. There’s not much in my fridge. I should have gone to the store, but I lost track of time. I’ve avoided opening my freezer all week, but I’m desperate.
“You’re okay,” I say, taking out one of the Tupperware containers Charlie dropped off at the cottage the day before we left. I’d stayed inside, listening to him plead with Nan to see me. I’d told her what happened, my head in her lap, her hand running through my hair. She hadn’t said much, but before she sent Charlie away, I heard her use the words disappointed in you . It made me feel worse. They’d been friends, too.
I prepare the pierogi the way Charlie did, boiling them first and then frying them in a pan until they’re golden brown. I don’t have sour cream, so I put a little grated cheese on top. They don’t taste as good as they did that night with Charlie. Nothing tastes very good right now.
I look around my living room. The neat stacks of art magazines are just where I left them; so are my throw pillows, fluffed and propped to magazine-worthy standards. The couch and dining chairs that I hate. I bought new scented candles for the coming autumn, but no one has been here to enjoy their spiced-apple glow. I’ve been too down to connect with friends, and I haven’t seen my family since I’ve been home. Heather and Dad have been busy with a case. Lavinia is stressing over an audition, and Luca rises an hour before his night shift at the bar. I haven’t wanted to bother them. I called Mom, but I’d caught her as she was heading out the door for yoga, and I was in the darkroom when she tried me later. I call her again now, but it goes directly to voicemail.
And while I like my own company, it isn’t what I want. I need Everlys around me.
I write a text to the family group chat. I waver for a moment, and then I press send.
I’ve been going through something, and I could really use you guys. Are any of you free to come over tonight?
The effort of asking anyone to put down what they’re doing and help me is exhausting. I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep on the couch until there’s a loud knock.
“Open up, Ali.” Heather.
“We have tequila.” Lavinia.
“And cake.” Luca.
I open the door, rubbing my eyes, and my siblings engulf me in a storm of perfume and sequins and kisses.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” I say when we pull apart. My siblings give me the same scrunchy-faced look. Heather’s wearing a pink lounge set. Lavinia’s in a glimmering dress and tippy heels, and Luca’s in the tight white tee and suspenders he wears for work. The three of them are all dark-haired, but the twins have Nan’s blue eyes.
“That might be the most Turtle thing you’ve ever said,” Luca says, setting a cake on the counter. It’s in a plastic grocery store container, chocolate, the words “Happy Birthday” in pink frosting on top.
“Of course we came,” Lavinia says. “You asked us to.”
“And you never ask, Ali,” Heather adds.
My eyes begin to water, and I’m quickly in the middle of another Everly tornado.
“What’s going on?” Lavinia asks, ushering me to the couch and petting me like I’m a kitten.
“The real story,” Luca says, dropping down beside me and putting his feet on my coffee table, knocking over the magazines.
Heather clatters around the kitchen and brings us each a glass of tequila, swearing as one splashes onto my cream wool rug. “Sorry, Ali. At least it’s clear.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. For once, I don’t mind the mess.
We clink our glasses together, and then Heather looks me in the eyes. “Tell us everything.”
“Quick,” Lavinia says.
“Before Dad gets here,” Luca adds.
Our dad arrives thirty minutes later in a suit and bow tie. Everything about Kip Everly is big—his mustache, his personality, his reputation as a litigator.
“Welcome home, Alice,” he says, kissing my temple. “It’s good to have you back in the city.”
Heather plies everyone with more tequila, and Lavinia and Luca recap what happened with Charlie for our father in under two minutes, and in a manner that will not cause him to worry about me. The way they tell it, it was a summer fling gone wrong. The way they tell it, it’s kind of funny.
Dad laughs in the right places at the twins’ rehashing, but I can tell they aren’t fooling him. He puts an arm around my shoulders, and I lean against him.
“Want me to kick his ass?”
“Yes.” I let out a long breath. “But he’s pretty strong.”
My dad squeezes me. “So are you.”
When the buzzer rings, I peer around the room, puzzled. We’re all here. I see Luca and Lavinia exchange a glance. I look through the peephole and gasp, swing the door open, and throw myself into my mother’s arms.
“How are you here?” I say, tears already running down my face.
“Nan thought you might need me.”
I bury my face in her neck and breathe in the sweet fragrance of lily of the valley. Her hair is cut even shorter, and she isn’t as soft as she used to be, but she smells just like my mom.
Mom and I eat chocolate cake in our pajamas the next morning, surrounded by the aftermath of last night’s gathering.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she says. “The real story—not whatever yarn Luca and Lavinia were spinning last night.”
“I might cry,” I warn her.
“Then you’ll cry.”
As we eat, I tell her about the summer—the good with all the misery.
“I wasn’t ready to fall for him,” I say, adding another damp tissue to my pile.
She hums. “It sounds like he wasn’t ready to fall for you, either. But maybe the story isn’t over yet.”
Mom laughs at the surprise on my face.
“What, can’t a sixty-year-old divorcée believe in romance?”
“Is that what you’re looking for out west? Love?”
“I’m looking for a new beginning. It’s not easy being alone after all these years. To go from having a big family under one roof to just me…well, I didn’t like it. If I could have kept you all at home with me, I would have.”
I blink at her. “Really? You always seemed so stressed.”
She laughs. “I was! But I felt like I had a purpose. I felt needed. Nothing made me happier than when we were all together. The Christmas mornings. The dinners when your dad was home early enough to eat with us. Those vacations. Remember Florida?”
“The twins weren’t even potty-trained yet.” They screamed the entire plane ride, and threw a tantrum at every shop, every restaurant.
My mom smiles at the memory. “You and Heather became a little duo that trip.”
My parents had rented a house with a pool, and she and I spent a lot of time underwater, escaping their noise, thumbing through magazines on lounge chairs when they napped. Heather let me borrow her lip gloss. I was elated that my big sister had deemed me cool enough to hang out with.
“I was happy back then,” my mom says. “It was madness, Alice. But it was a beautiful madness.” She sighs. “But this city makes me feel caught in the past. I need some time away to get unstuck. To discover who I am when I’m not a mother or a wife. It won’t be forever.”
“Good,” I tell her. “I still need you. I can’t believe you all showed up like that. I can’t believe you flew across the country for me.”
“Really?” She tilts her head. “You know, you were such an independent child. I was so busy with the twins and putting out Heather’s fires, and when I think back, I know I missed when you needed extra support.” She reaches across the table and puts her hand on mine. “I see the incredible woman you’ve become, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need help. I’ll always be here for you, Alice. I will always show up for my daughter.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my throat thick. I didn’t know how much I needed her to say it.
She squeezes my hand and then straightens. “You work so much, and I know you like your space. I try not to bother you. The last thing I want is to be a burden to my children.”
I study my mom. I didn’t know she felt that way—the way I have for so long, allergic to being an imposition. We text more than we talk these days. I thought it was because she was busy with her new life out west, not because she thought I was busy with mine.
“You’re never a burden, Mom,” I say. “You can ask us to show up, too. You can always call me.”
She waves her hand in the air. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
That sounds like something I’d say, too.
“But you don’t always have to. I’m here.”
She smiles. “I know you are.”