Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
July 2016
Nantucket Island
F rom the kitchen window, Tara could just barely see Winnie at the far end of the dock. She was wearing a yellow bikini, an older one they’d picked out together in Boston last year, and she extended her arms, straightened her legs, and took a deep breath before doing a swan dive into the Nantucket Sound. Tara dried her hands and wandered out to the back patio with a glass of wine and a book, half hoping Winnie would decide to come up the beach and join her. But Winnie swam laps back and forth in front of the dock for nearly thirty minutes before she came up the beach, wrapping herself in a towel. Her skin was tan, and her freckles had exploded on her shoulders and cheeks this year despite Tara hollering at her to use sunscreen.
“Hi, honey!” Tara’s voice was overly bright and gave her away.
Winnie arched a single eyebrow and gave her a look that meant why are you bothering me ?
“Why don’t you grab a soda and come out and join me? It’ll be a great sunset.”
Winnie groaned and rubbed her ear with the end of her towel.
“Please?” Tara asked.
Winnie rolled her eyes and stomped inside. Tara was left jagged and alone on the patio as the big orange sun dunked itself into the sound. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she nearly gave up on Winnie, on everything. But then Winnie came back outside, having changed into a pair of shorts and a big T-shirt, and she sat across from her mother with a Dr Pepper and a handful of M he wanted to steal her back. On the other, Winnie was unhappy; she missed Aunt Josie, and she hated Tara.
Tara had built a sensational career. But she didn’t know how to manage her life.
With her daughter, Tara decided to walk lightly the next few days. She surprised her with her favorite foods; she let her stay out late with friends; she didn’t pester her. Twice, she overheard Winnie trying to call Aunt Josie again, and both times, Aunt Josie wasn’t available to talk. Tara herself considered calling Josie, but she imagined Josie saying, What? Do you want to talk to me now? After everything you said to me? Tara was too frightened to face her, even over the phone. She felt so weak.
It wasn’t till the end of the week that Tara’s world ended.
Winnie came downstairs a few minutes before dinner. She was dressed in one of Tara’s favorite sundresses, and her hair was brushed and clean. She looked almost ready for church.
“Hi, honey. You look wonderful,” Tara said because she couldn’t help herself.
Winnie crossed her arms and shifted her weight. Something was up. Maybe she wanted to go to a friend’s place. Perhaps she wanted Tara to drive her to a date.
“I’ve been talking to Dad,” Winnie said.
Tara nearly dropped her spatula. Onions and peppers sizzled in the skillet, but it sounded like they were screaming.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve been talking to Dad, and I want to go visit him for the rest of the summer,” Winnie said. She was firm and polite. There was no love in her voice, but Tara didn’t have the strength to accuse her daughter of not loving her.
“That’s impossible,” Tara said.
“He’s going to take you to court anyway,” Winnie said. “Don’t you want to avoid that?”
Tara could have screamed. She could have thrown the skillet across the kitchen.
Instead, she cut the heat from the stovetop and walked away from the skillet. She poured herself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table. She felt as though she’d just been hit by a bus.
What had she done wrong to get here?
Why had she pushed Josie away?
Should she have tried to make it work with Donnie? Should she have forgiven him for cheating? Oh, but he was always such a mess! He spent half the money he made on alcohol! He was almost never home to put Winnie to bed!
Should she tell Winnie any of this right now? Should she speak darkly and cynically about Donnie and try to change Winnie’s mind? But Winnie was sure to see right through that. Tara would look just like every other ex-wife on television, talking terribly about their ex-husband to manipulate their children. She didn’t want to be like that.
Tara found that she was so nervous, trying to figure out what to say that she couldn’t speak at all.
But Winnie did the talking for her.
Winnie explained that she wasn’t happy. She explained that she’d always wanted to get to know her father better and that she remembered really loving him before he left when she was six years old.
He left on the night of your Christmas pageant! Tara wanted to tell her. But what Winnie didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. And it was clear that Winnie had made up her mind.
“It’s only a month,” Winnie said. “I want to get to know his new wife and my little brother. And, I mean, I’m just so tired of everything.” She kicked the foot of her chair and looked at the ground. “I need a change, Mom. You know?”
Tara wanted to tell her that life was a series of disappointments and sorrows, a period of never-ending fatigue.
But Winnie didn’t need to hear that. Not now. Not at fourteen.
Tara took a deep breath. She imagined herself alone in the house for the rest of the summer.
Maybe Winnie would have such a bad time with her father that she’d come back to Nantucket with more love in her heart for Tara. Perhaps Donnie’s plan would backfire.
Donnie was an idiot, after all. There was no way he’d changed.
Maybe Winnie just needs a little time away from me, and she’d come back and love me more than ever.
“All right, honey,” Tara breathed. “You can go. But I need you back a few days before you start high school. We have to go clothes shopping. We have to get you ready.”
Winnie gave Tara an enormous hug, one far bigger than any she’d given Tara in four or five years.
“Thank you, Mom,” Winnie breathed. “It’s exactly what I need.”
You don’t know what you need , Tara didn’t say.
The next day, Tara helped Winnie pack for a month away from home. Winnie was excited, googling everything there was to know about North Carolina, learning about the culture, the food, and the way life was in their little coastal town. Winnie was an ocean girl, and Tara was grateful she wouldn’t be far from the water. In a sense, that water would always connect them.
Donnie was supposed to pick Winnie up in two days. During their wait, Tara and Winnie were incredibly kind to one another, going out to eat, going on beach walks, watching television, and laughing. But late at night, Tara was doubled over with sorrow and fought not to call Josie to ask for emotional help. I pushed Josie out. I have to let her live her life now. I can’t come crawling back.
Tara knew that stubbornness would be the death of her. But she clung to it.
Tara’s private hope was that Donnie wouldn’t make it.
It stood to reason that he wouldn’t. Even though he was supposedly sober, he was still an alcoholic. He was still Donnie, that ragtag musician she’d fallen in love with at age twenty, the guy who’d never had more than a couple of bucks to spare, who’d never taken Tara to a fancy dinner or paid for his share of the mortgage. Tara imagined herself helping Winnie unpack her suitcases. She imagined holding Winnie as she cried and telling her, I’ll always be here, honey. Your dad left for a reason .
It floored Winnie when Donnie pulled into the driveway twenty minutes before he said he would. Donnie had never been early in all the years Tara had known him. He’d never looked like this: muscular, tan, clear-eyed, and smiling. He looked kind and compassionate and wealthy in a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt that didn’t show a single sweat stain. He’d driven up from North Carolina by himself, leaving his new wife and son at home alone. Tara tried to find a way to criminalize that decision. But really, all Donnie was doing was trying to get to know Winnie. He was trying to make up for lost time.
Winnie yelped and ran up to hug him. Tara couldn’t remember the last time Winnie had greeted her like that.
Donnie hugged Tara, too. She didn’t know what to do when he reached out, and she entered his arms and hugged him as though they’d been friends for years. She wanted to shove him and say, Your lawyer threatened me! But she also felt Winnie’s eyes on her. She wanted to be on her best behavior.
“Nice car,” Tara said instead.
It was a Mercedes.
“I figured it was time to upgrade from the truck,” Donnie joked.
“It’s gorgeous!” Winnie cried, hauling one of her suitcases to the trunk.
Tara tried to help them load Winnie’s bags, but Donnie took all the bags himself and slotted them into the trunk like a game of Tetris.
He’s performing his duties as “father,” Tara thought darkly.
“Here,” Tara said, handing Donnie a little notebook into which she’d written important phone numbers and facts about Winnie. “You’ll need these.”
Donnie didn’t even glance in the book. “Thanks,” he said, then pocketed it.
“You’ll take care of her?” Tara asked.
“Mom,” Winnie moaned.
“Please, tell me you will,” Tara pressed.
“Of course I will,” Donnie said. “She’s my little girl, too. Aren’t you, squirt?”
Winnie cackled and came over to give Tara a side hug. It felt more like a smack.
“I love you, honey,” Tara said. “Call me when you get there?”
“Sure,” Winnie called.
She disappeared into the front seat of her father’s car. Tara’s heart throbbed.
“It’ll be good,” Donnie told Tara. His eyes glinted strangely, like a cat’s. “We’re going to have a grand old time. I’ll send you pics.”
Tara crossed her arms so tightly that the bones popped. She watched from the top of the driveway as they pulled out and whipped down the road out of sight.
A hollowness opened in her stomach and widened into her chest.
She thought, I’m alone.
Now what?