Chapter 56
JOEL
Joel left the church before Andrew and Shay recited their vows.
A part of him knew what was going to happen, and it felt so odd now, that he had kept up any pretense.
That he had considered how all of the guests would react, how long it would take Shay’s mother to forgive him, how long he should wait until he himself proposed.
And even when the bridesmaids and groomsmen began to process, he still tried to convince himself that it wasn’t happening, as if they would have begun the ceremony with a missing bride.
But then Shay entered the church in her plain white dress, a false note (though he could not say what she was supposed to look like on her wedding day, he knew it was not like this), and even then, somehow even then, he thought perhaps there was a way out.
But after a few steps, she had found him, and in her eyes, he did not see fear or a desperate plea for help.
There was a glimmer of the Shay she’d been before Synanon.
She had made a decision, and in this decision she was resolute.
Somehow, the day had not changed. The sky was the same cobalt blue. Seagulls circled and dipped near the shore. A man was even mowing his lawn, which felt particularly absurd, that someone could be concerned with such a banal task when nearby, Shay had become someone else’s wife.
Joel was not sure where he was going. The man with the broad chest had resurfaced in his thoughts, a shark fin cresting the water, but it was difficult to imagine anything could happen during the reception.
Too many people, too many witnesses. The only thing that made sense was to remain in motion, and to avoid the side of the island where the party would be coming to life. Maybe he could find the man on his own.
Behind him on the road, there was the motor of a golf cart.
He stepped aside to let it pass, but after it did, the cart rumbled to a halt.
When the driver turned around to look at him, he realized it was Ken.
The breeze lifted his thick blond bangs, and his hand was loose on the steering wheel. Joel swore beneath his breath.
“I heard that,” Ken said as Joel approached. Ken had already taken off his suit jacket, the fine black wool draped over the passenger seat.
“Where’d you get the cart?” Joel kicked one of its tires.
“Paid off a teenager with a bad shoulder. Seemed relieved to give it up.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you.”
“Come on, I’ll give you a ride to the reception. I pissed off Smith, so I’m driving solo.”
“I’m not going.”
Ken sighed and stood up from his seat, leaning against one of the metal poles securing the cart’s roof. “Don’t sulk. You’re better than that. Not by much, but—”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw you last night. You and Shay. You went upstairs together. I’m able to use my imagination, and I imagine you made your case and she still married Andrew.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Joel kicked the wheel again, harder this time, so that he felt the ricochet of his shoe against the rubber.
“I think I do.”
Ken was wearing a look Joel had never seen on him before.
His brow slightly furrowed, his bottom lip nearly a pout: the unmistakable wash of pity.
In this moment, he did not dislike Joel; he was not trying to banish him from his table at the Palms so that he could be alone with his friends.
He felt sorry for him. And before Joel knew what he was doing, he wound back his arm and punched Ken’s sympathetic face.
Ken’s shoulder pitched forward, his hand jerking up instinctively to protect his cheek from further blows.
A surprised grunt spasmed from his stomach.
Joel flexed his hand, a sharp pain stinging his knuckles as Ken inspected his own fingers to see if Joel had drawn blood, and although he should have expected what came next, he was still unprepared when Ken’s fist clocked his jaw in retaliation.
The sound—that bone crack—was worse than the pain.
The pain itself was welcome, which was why he launched himself at Ken in something akin to an embrace, tackling him to the ground.
Joel had always assumed he was stronger than Ken, but locked together, Ken’s arms were live wires, thin but snapping with force.
Within a minute, maybe because Joel had barely slept, maybe because he had eaten nothing, Ken had Joel pinned beneath him.
Joel struggled for a moment, his muscles seizing, but then the will drained from his body. Ken was not who he wanted to harm.
“Are we done now?” Ken rasped.
“Yes.”
Ken rolled over beside him, both panting. In the sky above them, there was the glinting arrow of an airplane.
“I’m sorry,” Joel said, straightening his glasses.
“Yeah.” Ken fished a pack of cigarettes from his trouser pockets and lit one while still lying on the ground. “Well, we were probably overdue.”
Joel laughed. Ken offered him a cigarette, but he waved it away.
“She actually married him.”
“She did.”
The smoke was a brief, low cloud.
“I know you didn’t believe me before, but there is a man from Synanon on this island.”
“Joel . . .”
“He was here with a woman, but I was able to help her leave this morning. I’m not trying to disrupt or sabotage anything, but Andrew should know. Shay’s his wife.”
Ken was silent for a moment. There was the screech of a screen door opening, and Joel wondered if any residents of the island had witnessed their scuffle. If they had, they clearly hadn’t thought it was any of their business.
“We can tell him together,” Ken said.
They both sat up. There was a twinge at Joel’s lower ribs. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said.
“You’re the one who witnessed all of this. And I don’t want to be the messenger. They shoot the messenger, and I’ve already been punched today.”
Ken stood, brushing tendrils of grass and dirt off his black trousers, and offered Joel his hand. Joel stared at it for a moment, as if he had some choice in the matter, and then took it.