Chapter 33
The floorboards creaked out in song as the friends dragged duffel bags down the stairs. They threw dirty sheets and towels over the railing and into the hamper, taking turns loading and reloading the wash. Music played as brooms swept floors, board games and decks of cards were tidied up and put away.
It was the end of a summer, the end of a vacation, and the Serendipity House was exhausted.
Maggie, Quinn, and Brenna lay on the stripped-down mattress, examining Maggie’s certificate against the glare of the ceiling lamp as they waited for the last of the laundry to be done.
“Third place,” Brenna said with wonder.
“Not bad.” Maggie smiled. Normally, she would have beaten herself up for not coming in first. It came as no surprise when Ty was awarded the blue ribbon—his piece was masterful—but Maggie was genuinely shocked when they called her name for third. She didn’t care about the prize. She had won so much already this summer.
“We lost our bet, though,” Quinn complained.
“Something tells me Ty won’t come calling for the winnings,” Brenna teased, and giggles escaped their throats like they were young girls in the cafeteria again, trading notes about a grade-school crush in North Face jackets, doodling on each other’s Converse sneakers.
Quinn nudged her. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
“Thank you guys. Again, and again. For everything,” Maggie said. “My roommates. My costars. Now potential matchmakers? I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“Just take my turn vacuuming this week when we get home and we’ll be fine.”
“Deal.”
“Knock, knock,” Liz said, letting herself into their bedroom.
“Lizzy! Lie down,” Brenna said, as Quinn tugged her arm. They lay folded on top of each other, magically embedded on a full-size mattress the way only best friends can fit.
“I wanted to show you guys my application portfolio,” Liz said, opening her phone to a Google Drive presentation.
“How do you say ‘congratulations’ in Italian again? I keep forgetting,” Maggie said.
“Complimenti!” Quinn sang in an Italian accent.
“Bravo! Bravo!” Maggie said, pulling the screen closer to her face.
She dropped it entirely when she saw the photo of Liz’s final piece.
A two-piece set with a long and pleated skirt, all in a muted yet breathtaking pastel rainbow print. An ode to their shopping adventure, inspired by the memories of their big-hearted middle-school days.
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Mags.”
“Me either.” Maggie and Liz had succeeded. A film festival, a screenplay. A wedding and a scholarship. These were some of their biggest dreams come true, but the best part was that they were celebrating here, heads on the same pillowcase. Reunited, again. “I’m so grateful for all you guys. Thank you for everything,” Maggie said, grabbing Brenna’s and Quinn’s hands. A perfect friendship pile, together.
“This was my favorite summer ever,” Brenna said.
“Mine, too,” the girls answered in harmony.
Down the hall, George was bouncing up and down on his mattress so excitedly that he nearly hit his head on the bunk bed frame four separate times. He held his phone in his hands like a gold medal.
“Dude! She wants to meet up next weekend in the city!”
“Let’s go! Awesome, my guy!” PJ said.
“Where should I suggest for drinks? Cornerstone Tavern?”
“Georgie—”
“Just George,” he whined.
“Just George,” PJ said. “I say this not just as your Ocean Beach roommate, but as your friend. If you want a second date, you sure as hell need to go someplace better than Cornerstone.”
“I hear what you’re saying,” George said. “And I respect your opinion. But I dare you to find me a bar in New York with more style than Cornerstone.”
“Dear lord, give me your phone. I’ll help you pick a place.”
As PJ and George searched for trendy date-night spots, Cam and Mac were in the kitchen emptying out the fridge. To ease the effort, they each had cracked open one final Montauk Summer Ale. They tossed what remained of a pint of blueberries, packed the leftover seltzers in a cooler for the journey back home. The ketchup and mustard would stay in the shelf with the collection of other condiments passed down from renter to renter.
“How does it feel? Being married?” Mac asked.
“So far? Pretty much exactly the same,” Cam said. “I think I’d be scared if it felt any different.”
“For sure.” Mac grinned. “Mom’s happy for you, you know. Even if she was surprised by it.”
“I know. And she’s happy for you, too. No matter what.”
Mac coughed. “It’s naive, maybe, but I guess I was a little nervous that it would feel like I was going to lose you?”
Cam took his brother by the shoulder. “That could never happen. We’re forever. Promise.”
“Promise.”
Cam sipped his beer and smiled, too. “Man, remember when Robyn was here?” He couldn’t help it. He’d always mess with his brother when he could. That’s what twins do.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mac groaned.
“After all that, I miss her unusual business ideas.”
“She was nice!”
“Pretty lucky you still got the big bedroom all to yourself this weekend.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be jealous cuz you have to share a bed for the rest of your life, bro.”
Mac didn’t confess that he’d had the same thought, the same realization, at the beginning of this weekend. The small, silent hope that someone might end up on the mattress with him.
Now he knew it didn’t matter. He didn’t need the warmth of a body next to him to feel like he had purpose. He’d find it in himself. With Cam and Liz, yes, but also on his own separate plane. Not as a twin, not as a boyfriend, not as a teammate or a coworker or a best friend. Mac felt ready to find out who he was on his own.
He didn’t tell Cam, but Robyn had texted him yesterday. She sent best wishes for Cam and Liz’s party, and a recommendation for a therapist named Nina who might be able to help Mac find his way. Coming from anyone else, coming from any other ex-girlfriend, that would have seemed like an enormous overstep. But somehow, from Robyn, it felt like care. He was ready to make the call.
The brothers clinked their beers. It would be an interesting fall.
Before long, the friends made their way out of the house’s doorway for the final time. One group of many in the ghosts of others who had rented before them. How many there must have been, who had left and learned and loved in an Ocean Beach share house just like them, locking the door and putting the key in the lockbox, punching in the code like a final prayer.
Brenna’s voice trailed through the air as the group walked into town. She was already planning a going-away party for Liz next month before she left for Italy in October. PJ’s birthday was in two weeks; they were debating a new Brooklyn brewery versus a bowling and karaoke night. Maggie recommitted to seeing a movie once a week until Christmas, and promised she’d text everyone the weekly showtimes in case anyone wanted to tag along.
The friends may have been boarding a ferry, but it was clear they weren’t going far.
Maggie slipped into a bench on the ferry’s top deck. Ty sat down next to her. He watched as she registered a text message that had crept in from Kurt, still harassing her despite her silence.
“I’ll never forgive myself for telling you about that job,” Ty said, voice strained. “For putting you in his path.”
“It’s not your fault, Ty. Only his.” With a few flicks of her finger, Maggie deleted the message and permanently blocked Kurt in her contacts for good. She’d figure out retribution with the guild, chart a course of action with her parents. She’d write and write and write until he was barely a footnote in the greater timeline of her career.
But she was done letting him control her through her phone.
Ty squeezed Maggie’s hand. She squeezed back.
“I was wondering,” she said, looking into his eyes as the ferry kicked off into the bay. “Want to hang out this week?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Ty grinned.
She let her head fall on his shoulder for the remainder of the ride as the Fire Island shoreline dwindled out of sight. They’d made it through the summer intact. It didn’t feel like the bittersweet end of a vacation, the end of a trip. Maggie didn’t have any nostalgia for the roller coaster of emotions Ocean Beach had left in her bones.
For now, she simply had promise. She had hope for the first time in a long time. She felt like herself again. Driven and eager and bold.
She couldn’t wait to get home.
The David Bros. shuttle bus was waiting in the Bay Shore parking lot by the time they’d returned. They boarded like the weary travelers this summer had made them all. Maggie settled into her seat, rested her head against the window, but before she could get too comfortable, George called her name from down the row.
“The Serendipity House owner just asked if we could leave him a review,” he said, voice bouncing with the wheels of the bus. “Mags, you’re the writer of the group—can you do that for us? We should say something nice. Who knows? Maybe we’ll want to come back for three more weekends next year.”
“Sure,” she said with a smile. “Maybe we will.”
Then, Maggie started to write.