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Well? I text Nan the next morning.
???? she replies.
R U still on the boat? What happened?
No. Daniel had 2 get it back b4 parents knew he’d had it all night. I’m home.
And???
Where R U?
I’m at the beach before work at the B&T, watching Mr. Garrett train Jase. At the moment, Jase is slogging through the water knee-deep, emerging to do some push-ups and wading back in. If you’d told me I’d find this riveting a few weeks ago, I’d have laughed. My fingers hover, still hesitant to reveal too much to Nan, but finally I type: At SB beach.
Give me 10, she texts back.
Nan shows up fifteen minutes later, just as Jase flops onto the sand for another round of push-ups.
“Oh, I get it now,” she says with a knowing smile. “I thought you were swimming, or catching some early sun. But it’s all about the boyfriend, huh, Samantha?” I ignore her. “What happened with Daniel?”
Nan flops on her back, wrist over her eyes—almost exactly what Tim did yesterday. Even after all these years, I’m fascinated by the way they sometimes unconsciously echo each other. She squints in the sun, then rolls onto her stomach, turning to look at me with serious gray eyes.
“On the boat? Well, we went upriver to Rocky Park, and anchored there and had a picnic. Then we went out in the sound. Daniel swam, but I was freaked that there might be great white sharks. He said it was too cold for them but—”
“Nan! You know that’s not what I mean.”
“I do?” she asks i
“Um, no. Because who calls it that?” I flick a toenail shell at her.
“Daniel calls it that.” Nan sits up, looking out at the water now, shielding her eyes from the sun. “We did not.”
“Because…? You decided you weren’t ready? Or it wasn’t what Daniel had in mind?” Jase slogs back into the water, massaging his thigh as though he has a cramp.
“Why’s he doing this?” Nan asks. “It seems like torture. I keep expecting his dad to get out a hose and spray him in the face with cold water. Or make him sing one of those macho rhyming songs— Navy Wings are made of lead, hup, two, three…”
“Training for football season,” I say, flicking another orange-pink shell at her. “You’re evading the question.”
“It was what Daniel had in mind. What I had in mind. But at the last minute…I just couldn’t.” Nan sits up now, pulling her knees to her chest, ducking her chin down. “He overtalked it. First he got me wine, which would have been okay, but he had to explain that it was ‘to loosen my inhibitions.’ Then he went on and on about how this was a big step and it was irrevocable, and it would Change Our Relationship Permanently. I kept waiting for him to pull out a release form.”
“Sexy, baybee,” I say.
“I know! I mean…I know life isn’t like Love With the Proper Stranger.” This is Nan’s favorite movie, with her beloved Steve McQueen and Natalie Wood. “I don’t expect…bells and banjos. Well…not from Daniel.” She ducks her head. “Maybe not ever.”
I watch Jase, and, as though sensing it, he turns, flashing his incandescent smile.
“Why not, Na
“I think these things through.” Nan’s biting her already too-short thumbnail, a habit she’s had since kindergarten. I reach out, pull it away from her mouth, a habit I’ve had since kindergarten. “There’s not going to be mad passion here. We’ve been dating for two years…We’re compatible. It wouldn’t be awkward.”
Mr. Garrett gives Jase a thumbs-up, calling, “You’re good, son.”
“Joel,” Jase replies, in between deep, ragged breaths, “could do it faster. I think.”
“And I couldn’t,” Mr. Garrett calls. “Still had colleges looking. You’re doing fine.” He claps Jase on the shoulder.
“Shouldn’t it be better than ‘not awkward,’ Na
Nan pulls her hand away from mine, starting on her pinkie nail. “In the real world? The only advice Mommy’s given me about sex is: ‘I was a virgin when I got married. Don’t do that.’” I pull her hand away again and she swats at me playfully. Jase has thrown himself down for another round of push-ups. I can see his arms trembling.
“Mom told me the mechanics when I got my period, then told me never to have sex.”
“That approach worked so well with Tracy.” Nan giggles, then her brows pull together, following my gaze.
“Daniel’s going places.” She traces a finger in the sand. “Clearly. He was valedictorian, he got in early-decision to MIT. We’re alike that way…All I want is to get out of here.” She sweeps her hand across the horizon as though she could erase it with that one gesture. “I’ll apply ED to Columbia in the fall, I’ll get away from Tim and Mommy and Daddy and…everything.”
“Nan…” I say, then don’t know how to continue.
“Who’s he going to be, this Garrett guy?” Nan asks. “I mean, he’s gorgeous now, God knows. But in five years, ten…Just like his dad. Ru
“Hey Sam, Nan. Sorry, have to catch my breath. I gotta stop, Dad.”
“One more run,” Mr. Garrett says. “Just pull it out. You can do it.” Jase shakes his head, shrugs at us, but wades into the water anyway.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Much to everyone’s surprise, and probably his own, Tim thrives at Mom’s campaign office. He makes voter registration calls in twenty different accents. He convinces ordinary folks who believe in Mom to write in to local papers about how their lives have been changed because Senator Grace Reed cares.
Within two weeks, he’s even writing short speeches for Mom. She and Clay can’t stop talking about him.
“That kid really has it all going on,” Clay marvels as we drive to yet another meet-and-greet, where I stand next to Mom, trying to look wholesome and supportive. “He’s got smarts and he’s wily. Always thinking on his feet.”
“Yeah, well. Turns out it’s all about manipulating things—and people,” Tim allows when I repeat this to him. We’re hanging out in the driveway of the Garretts’ house while Jase works on the Mustang. I’m sitting on the hood, on a blanket, which Jase sheepishly insisted on, saying he didn’t want any of the primer scratched off. He’s wrestling with some sort of wiring issue. “Who knew that years of lying and bullshitting would be so useful?”
“You’re cool with this?” Jase asks. “Hey, Sam, can you hand me the wrench? God knows what the guy who owned this before me did. Drag races? The clutch is completely burned out…and the five-speed’s making this whining noise even though it’s still operable. Plus all the u-joints are loose.”
“English, dude?” Tim requests as I hand Jase the wrench. He’s under the car, working hard, and I feel this urge to kiss the line of sweat trailing from his throat. I’m out of control.
“Somebody didn’t take care of this car,” Jase responds. “But you—sorry Sam—you don’t believe in anything Grace Reed is supporting, Tim. You aren’t even a Republican. Don’t you feel wrong helping her out?”
“Sure,” Tim answers easily. “But when haven’t I felt wrong? Nothin’ new there.” Jase ducks out from below the Mustang, slowly straightening up. “That feels okay? ’Cause I can’t see how.”
Tim shrugs.
Jase ruffles his hair, the way he always does when he’s confused or hesitant.
“So Nan went to New York with the boyfriend this weekend,” Tim mutters.
I start. I didn’t know Nan was going somewhere with Daniel.
“From what I can see, he’s a conceited douche bag who’s only going to wind up hurting Nan. But did I stop her? Nope. I’ve made a million mistakes. Time for ol’ Nano to catch up.” Jase’s fingers close on something in his tool kit. He slides under the car again. “You’ll feel so much better when she’s unhappy?”