Chapter 82
WE DIDN’T GET BACK UNTIL late, and I completely blew off the potluck, which I felt guilty about.
So, the next morning, I made a point of driving out to Spiaggia di Cala Spalmatore, where a bunch of the wives had made plans to meet up.
Laura was already sitting on a beach towel in the middle of a couple of women, but she got to her feet and rushed me when she saw me picking my way across the sand.
“Eileen Archer,” she called when we were close enough to shout at each other, “where were you yesterday?”
I had anticipated this question, and I didn’t want to have to lie if I didn’t have to. “Oh my God. Was the potluck fun?”
Laura threw an arm around my shoulder, and I tried not to wince as she drew me close. I had a miserable sunburn.
“Of course it was fun. Rita hired a band, and Mary Lou got so drunk, Bev had to take her home.”
“You’re kidding.”
“It was, like, a once-in-a-lifetime event.”
“How drunk was she?” I asked.
“She told us she was a virgin when she got married.”
“Oh, wow. So pretty drunk?”
Laura couldn’t be distracted. “I thought you were getting there early,” she said. “To help set up. And then you never even showed.”
This was where I would have to lie. There were no two ways around it. “I feel terrible,” I said, “but I fell asleep.”
Laura loosened her grip on me. “You fell asleep?”
“I know,” I said. “It’s a lame excuse. I was just going to lie down for a second, and the next thing I knew, it was dark outside.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell Mary Lou?”
I swallowed. “If she asks, I guess?”
“She’s definitely going to ask,” said Laura. “But maybe come up with a better excuse than that? So you don’t sound like such a depressive.”
We had arrived at the spot on the beach where all the women had spread out their towels.
There was Bev and Rita and Carla and a new girl Carla introduced as Debbie Velez.
A few feet away was another gaggle of women.
And down by the water, there had to be at least a dozen children.
I waved hello to everyone and laid my towel down next to Bev, who had decided she was going to sunbathe topless.
“Care to join?” she said, gesturing at her ta-tas.
Because I was feeling a tiny bit bold after my boating excursion, I shrugged and said, “Why not?”
“Go, Eileen,” said Laura, who was fine with cheering us on but would never have taken her top off in a million years.
“Did you hear about Mary Lou?” Bev asked as I peeled off my shirt, then rolled down my one-piece.
“Laura was just telling me about her. It sounds wild.”
“Oh my God. It really was. She was hysterical on the car ride home, telling me how Jim had bought her a Hitachi Magic Wand for her back, but she’d heard somewhere she could use it on her vagina.”
“Did she?” asked Debbie.
“Apparently,” said Bev. “Said it worked like a charm.”
“Where do I order one?” I asked, and everyone laughed, but I was only half kidding.
“She’s going to be so mortified,” said Laura.
“She won’t remember much,” Bev said. “And honestly, it was kind of endearing. It showed she has a soul.”
“Careful,” warned Rita.
Bev propped herself up on her elbows. “Oh, shit. Mary Lou’s here,” she said, and we both instinctively started to yank our tops back up.
“She’s got to show everyone she’s fine,” said Carla.
Laura lowered her sunglasses. “Better than fine, by the looks of it.”
She was right. Mary Lou was marching across the beach in a pink two-piece bathing suit and a big pair of sunglasses. With her blond hair pinned up on top of her head, she looked like a modern Grace Kelly.
“Was Janine Greer there last night?” I asked Bev as we watched Mary Lou’s approach.
“She showed her face,” said Bev. “Stayed for maybe half an hour. Tops.”
“That’s convenient, because you know who’s not on the cruise?” said Rita.
“I already thought of that,” said Bev.
“Wait, who are we talking about?” asked Laura.
“Daniel Bornemann doesn’t go on any of the cruises,” explained Rita, “since he reports up through the Navy Support Office.”
“It’s very convenient,” said Bev with a cackle.
“You guys don’t really think Janine and Daniel are having an affair?” said Laura, but no one had a chance to answer her because Mary Lou was upon us.
“Ladies,” she said. “Nice to see you on this grand and glorious day.”
“You doing okay?” said Bev, who must have been feeling extra bold on account of the fact that she’d tucked Mary Lou into bed not twelve hours earlier.
“I’m doing great,” said Mary Lou. “Better than great. There’s really nothing a little Alka-Seltzer won’t cure.”
There was general agreement on this point.
“Eileen,” she said slowly, and already I knew I was in trouble. “We missed you at the potluck.”
“I was so sad to miss it,” I offered.
She removed her sunglasses. “What happened?”
I glanced over at Laura, who had buried her head in her towel. “I fell asleep.”
“That’s too bad,” she said. “But I was talking about the sunburn.”
“Oh,” I said as I pressed a finger into the pink of my shoulder. “I was out on my patio at the time.”