Left Drowning

“Oh, and did I tell you about Sabin?” Estelle leans into the camera until I can practically see up her nose.

I laugh. “No, what?”

“Do you remember that Chrystle girl from last year?”

“Sure. He hooked up with her again?”

She holds up two fingers. “Her and her roommate, Maryse. Together.” She collapses into giggles.

“Oh God, gross! Estelle! I don’t want to hear those details! Yuck. I can’t think about Sabin like that!”

“Roommates, of all things! How cliché! You didn’t see us hooking up with a guy together, right? I mean, I wouldn’t be able to look at you the next day. Not that you’re not super crazy hot and all that, but … And there’s the fact that you’ve hooked up with my brother, which would up the creep factor.” She claps her hand over her mouth. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

“Estelle, it’s fine. Stop.”

“Fucking hell, Blythe. I shouldn’t have brought him up. I’m a tactless bitch.”

“Just touch your hand to Neon Jesus, and all will be forgiven.”

“Hold on!” Estelle bounces up, and I hear her shoes clack on the floor as she walks to the painting that hangs behind her. She reaches up and pats Neon Jesus by his head. “I’m sorry! Did you hear me? I’m sorry!” Her cropped shirt lifts as she reaches up. I know the camera image is not perfect, but I swear I see a bruise that wraps over her hip bone. I forget it about as soon as Estelle’s face comes careening back into the screen because she startles the shit out of me, and I almost spill my wine. “NJ says I’m forgiven.”

I wave a hand. “There’s not really anything to be forgiven for.”

“Hey, B.?”

“Yeah?”

“You all right?”

I nod. It takes me a second to ask what I do. “What about Chris? Is he okay? He’s … he’s still happy, right?”

“I don’t know how to answer that. He’s fine, I guess. He acts fine, but I think he’s different. He’s … I don’t know. He’s a little boring, to be honest.”

“What? Chris is not boring. That’s ridiculous.”

“He is. We all think he’s a little dull now.” There’s a knock at her door. “I gotta go, love.”

“Okay. Have fun. Hey, ‘Stelle?”

“Yeah.”

“Call me when it’s over. Not until then. We’d just have to avoid talking about it. Tell Sabin and Eric. Please. It’ll be easier after.”

“Understood. Be brave.” She kisses her fingers and blows me a kiss. “Miss you, you fucker.”

“Miss you, too, you fucker.”

I shut the screen. The next time I talk to her, Chris will be married. Maybe then I will really believe that it’s over between us.

I am the queen of wishful thinking.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Regroup

“Did you remember the bug spray?”

“I think they sell bug spray in Maine,” I tell my brother. “Besides, I have packed everything that I can think of. The car is full. If we forgot anything, we’ll buy it in Ellsworth. Relax.” I reach into the backseat of the SUV and pat Jonah. This dog is the reason that I bought such a big vehicle, but without it, we might not have had room to cram the car with all of our summer supplies. Jonah pants excitedly at me. “I know. James is going to drive us crazy.”

“How about liquor? Do they sell that there?” James takes the familiar route to 95N. We’ll take this highway through Massachusetts and then all the way north to Bar Harbor, Maine.

“Very fu

“Seriously, my dear sister, what’s with all the travel-size liquor bottles?”

“So what? I had an impulse purchase at the liquor store. You’re driving, I thought I’d have a drink.” I pour the mini gin into my half-emptied bottle of lukewarm tonic water and take a straw from my purse.

“Yeah, or ten, from the looks of it.”

“We have to drive right past Newburyport. I could use a little liquid courage.”

He pats my shoulder. “Fair enough.” James does not know the whole story, but he knows enough to understand that I do not want to drive through the town where Chris is getting married. And on the day that he is getting married. “Look, Blythe, I’m sorry that I got food poisoning and was sick all day yesterday. I know you wanted to leave then, but I can assure you that I would not have been a good travel companion. I’m sorry.”

“I know, I know. It’s not your fault. I just want to get out of Massachusetts as quickly as possible.”

“This really sucks. I’m sorry.”

I turn up the radio. “Just don’t get pulled over.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“What I’m doing is illegal and stupid. So don’t ever drink in a car.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“And you shouldn’t be driving with a passenger who is drinking.”

“I know that!”

“I’m just sayin’.”

I sink into my seat and suck on the straw. It’ll be an hour before we hit the scene of the crime, so to speak, and I might just be good and drunk by then.

“James?” I take another sip.

“Yup?”

I slide on my sunglasses and look out the window. I have dealt with a lot of shit head-on over this past year, and I’m not going to apologize for needing to run now. Getting away from home, hiding out in Maine for the summer … I deserve this. As for getting drunk on the day of Chris’s wedding? It is what it is.

“James, I’m going to get really shit-faced, okay?”

“Have at it. I’m here.”

I love James. I mean, I really, really love him. And I like him. He’s letting me lean on him now, and it helps me feel less alone in my grief over this fucking Christopher Shepherd situation. If I can make it through stupid Newburyport without having some sort of psychiatric episode, then this summer will be really awesome.

My parents would be proud that we are off to Bar Harbor together. I shake open the map of Mt. Desert Island and look at the red circle where our house is. Neither of us remembers too much about it because we only walked though it for a few minutes five years ago. It appears that our house overlooks Frenchman Bay, which I think sounds rather elegant.

James lets me play the music I want as the empty bottles start to accumulate. Every song that I choose is one of my Chris songs, and I can feel that I am drunkenly spiraling into an abyss of heartache. Heartache and anger. I mean, married? Fucking married? What a stupid, absolutely stupid and irresponsible thing to do. I get that Chris needed to establish a safe, easy relationship, one that wasn’t going to challenge him or bring his past to the surface. His father must have done a fucking number on him, on all of them, and on Chris especially. But Chris is smart, in control, and capable of so much more than a superficial relationship. He deserves better, whether that is with me or not.

I wish I knew more about his father, but it’s a topic that has clear boundaries. I have never spoken to Sabin or the others about it beyond a few sentences here and there. The work that they’ve done to move on, to build successful lives, is commendable, and dredging up memories they want to forget is not my place. Chris has made it clear to me that he’s okay, that he has left that part of his life in the past. The Shepherds are a dynamic, loyal, vivacious family. They all know how to love. I see that in how they love one another and how they love me. So why wasn’t Chris able give me more?

I suck down the last of my drink as an early sign for the Newburyport exit flashes before me. It’s only a quarter mile away and we’re hurtling toward it.

“Take the exit! Take the exit!” I yell.

“Blythe. That’s not a good idea.”

“Yes!” I slap the dashboard. “Do it.”

“Yeah, that sounds smart. This is going to go really, really well.”

“Hey! I may be loaded, but I can still understand sarcasm. I’m not kidding. Take me to this fucking ceremony by the sea so I can tell Chris … just, lots of things. I’ll think of them.”

“Oh God. Here we go.” James veers the car to the right, cutting off a van, and we soar off the highway. A quick search on my phone pulls up the location where the ceremony is taking place. I roll down the window and sense that we’re in beach territory now. The air smells different, the greenery is different. Everything is different and everything hurts.