Heartbroken (11 page)

Kate’s suitcase was nearly full, and she still felt ill prepared for the trip. The problem was that her parents insisted that everyone change for dinner. She couldn’t just bring the easy activewear that was appropriate for the island. She needed a suitable outfit for dinner every night, like everyone else. Except Sean, who absolutely refused to change for dinner, a ritual he found affected and ridiculous. Whereas Kate’s first husband had kowtowed to her parents’ many requirements and customs, Sean bucked them at every opportunity. He
just didn’t care what they thought. Their tremendous wealth failed to impress him or motivate his behavior—as it did with most—and he refused to be anything other than who he was. For this and so many things, Kate adored him.

Kate felt that when she visited them, which she did as little as was seemly, she owed them the respect of following their rules. She knew where they came from and why they felt the need to order their lives as they had. She didn’t always
like
it, but she understood it. Both of them, for different reasons, needed control over their environment. And when you were in their orbit, they needed to control you as well. She’d grown to accept it and had learned to navigate it in a way that Theo never could and Sean didn’t want to.

“Don’t get yourself worked up.” Her husband was lounging on the bed. She tried not to look at him, lest she be tempted to give up her task and join him.

“I’m not,” she said.

“Your breathing is shallow.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

Sean’s suitcase was zipped and tucked neatly into the corner. They would be there for seven days, so he was taking seven outfits, eight changes of underwear (always good to have an extra), and eight pairs of socks. He knew exactly what he would wear every day. He had one pair of loafers and one pair of amphibious shoes. This time, just to keep everyone on their toes, he’d packed one pair of dress pants and a crisp white oxford shirt. One night he’d dress for dinner just to mess with her parents, who really didn’t know what to do with him. He’d left extra space in his suitcase for the toiletries bag, which would never fit in Kate’s suitcase. He’d packed for Brendan in the same way. Kate and Chelsea would be stuffing things into their suitcases up until they loaded them into the car. Even though they’d bring everything they could think of, they’d still feel like they didn’t have enough.

“I saw the e-mail from your mother,” said Sean.

“Please,” she said.

“I wrote her back with all of our dietary restrictions and considerations.”

She stopped and turned to face him. “What dietary considerations?”

Sean smiled his Cheshire-cat grin. In spite of the fact that she
was
getting herself all worked up, she smiled, too. How could she not smile at him? He was all mischief, just like their son. Though Sean had dark close-cropped hair, compared to Brendan’s dirty-blond curls, and deep brown eyes to Brendan’s faceted hazel, they were the image of each other: same sharp nose, same sweetness around the eyes, same fullness to the lips. Heartthrobs, both of them, her boys—but faithful and funny and full of caring. So unlike her father, her brother, or her ex. She thanked her lucky stars, or the fact that she had gotten smart and figured out a way to do better.

“You’re mean,” she said. She tossed a pair of socks at him, which he easily caught and threw back in one fluid motion. He was athletic, another way in which he was different from her first husband. Sebastian’s physical prowess had been limited to pouring himself a drink and lighting a cigarette. His skills were cerebral, not all of them used for good.

“You love it,” Sean said. She did. Kate abandoned the packing and lay down beside him. Her husband moved through the world with a centered, good-natured ease that Kate envied. She pressed her body against his and squeezed, hoping to soak up some of his inner calm. She took in the scent of him as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t worry. We’ll just drink our way through it,” he said.

“Stop.”

There was a cocktail hour promptly at six, the point from which her parents proceeded to get properly soused on martinis, or whatever the cocktail of the evening happened to be. Wine was served throughout the three-course meal. By the time dessert was on the table, the mood would be dictated by her mother, whether she was
happy or feeling bitter, whether she was angry with Dad or just had it in for someone at the table.

Luckily, only Kate seemed to suffer. Dad was in his own world, had learned long ago to tune Birdie out. Sean thought that everything about her parents’ various dysfunctions was hilarious. And Chelsea and Brendan were too loved and praised to be vulnerable to any of the passive-aggressive attacks her mother might launch. So it was just Kate—and Theo, when he was around—who walked on eggshells, delicately tuned in to Mother’s various ups and downs.

“We can cancel,” he said. “Brendan’s ankle is the perfect excuse.”

“I can’t disappoint the kids.” That sounded lame, even to her own ears. It was a cop-out, because things were so much more complicated than that.

Sean draped his arm over her middle. “You know,” he said. He paused a minute, as though picking his words carefully. “It’s okay to disappoint people sometimes. It’s okay for us to say no simply because we don’t want to do something.”

Intellectually, she knew that was true. It was just that when it came to her family, it didn’t
feel
that way. “You don’t want to go?” she asked.

He pushed himself up on his elbow and looked up at the ceiling, then back at her. “I don’t know. Not really,” he said. “I love the island. I know you and the kids do, too. But the price is high.”

On the dresser, his cell started ringing. He didn’t move to answer it. “You could use the disconnect,” she said. She nodded toward the singing, vibrating device. Ten minutes couldn’t pass without it emitting some kind of sound.

“I could use
a
disconnect,” he said. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be there.”

Sean was constantly plugged in to the needs of clients, fielding calls on his listings, dealing with appraisers, mortgage brokers. He was good at blocking off family time, not one of those people
who couldn’t pry himself away from the laptop or BlackBerry. But with the economy and the real estate market in such chaos, he was working harder than ever and making far less that he once had. He needed a break.

“Really, we could go anywhere on Sunday,” he said. He swept his arm wide. “Just get in the car and drive.”

Freedom was something that, as a couple, they’d never really had. Chelsea was small when they met and married, and Brendan came a couple of years later. They had never slept away from the kids, and Kate didn’t have any desire to do so. Suddenly, the thought of taking off in the car, even with the kids in tow, and going wherever they wanted to go filled Kate with a strange longing.

Of course, if they did that, the kids would sulk; her parents would be angry and disappointed. And Kate wasn’t sure she could enjoy herself while everyone else was miserable. What did that say about her? She didn’t know.

“Next year,” she said. “Next year we’ll go somewhere else, like Hawaii or Europe. Someplace amazing, just the four of us.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “You promise?”

“I promise,” she said. She meant it.

The more she thought about it, the better it felt. They’d tell the kids and her parents now. Everyone would have a year to get used to the idea that they were taking a break from the island. Theo was right; she didn’t
have
to go every summer. It would be there even if she couldn’t be. She felt lighter, more able to deal with the trip ahead, knowing that next year she wouldn’t have to spend a week trapped in her parents’ thrall. The timing, for other reasons, would be good for her not to be there.

She got up and went back to her packing, picking from a huge pile of stuff on the chair. A fleece pullover, a black sheath dress, a pair of sneakers, a pair of heels.

“Maybe we could even do Asia,” said Sean. He grabbed his laptop
off the nightstand. He would start researching right away, come up with the best possible and most expensive trips. Normally, she’d stop him, not let him get overexcited, make him scale back. This time she wasn’t going to do that.

“Or one of those five-star African safaris,” he said. “I think the kids are old enough to appreciate that.”

“You know what, babe?” she said. “Anything you want.”

“Nice,” he said. “I
like
your attitude.”

She was happy to see him excited. And suddenly, she felt better about the trip ahead. This year she
had
taken those boating classes. She’d done something else, too. Something huge. And it was going to change everything.

Once this trip was over, she was going to start to follow her brother’s example. There was going to be a bit more distance and a little more of the word “no.”

“Y
ou’re not going to give him your phone number.”

Lulu wasn’t usually the cautious one. Chelsea peered over the laptop screen at her friend, who glanced up from the pink beanbag chair where she sat painting her toenails a garish pink.

“Why not?” Chelsea asked. She stretched out on her bed. Her foot had fallen asleep from sitting cross-legged with the computer on her lap.

“Because then it’s—I don’t know. Real. Like, you have to
talk
to him.” She looked back to her toenails.

“So? Isn’t that the point?” Hadn’t Lulu said the same thing at the mall?

“Not really,” Lulu said. “Keep it on
Fake
book, and it’s safe. They can’t get near you, not really. They just know what you
want
them to know.”

“They can’t get near you on the phone, either.”

“Yeah, but that’s the gateway to the real world,” said Lulu. “Once they have your number, once they can talk to you, hear your voice, the next step is getting together.”

Chelsea had been messaging back and forth with Adam, carefully coached by Lulu on how to be cool but not overeager, flirty but not too inviting.
And for crying out loud, don’t sound so smart. Smart is not sexy
. Chelsea didn’t like playing games with people. She just wanted to be herself and meet someone who was willing to be himself. She said as much.

“No one’s
himself
,” Lulu said. “Everyone’s putting on a show. Especially guys.”

“That’s not true,” said Chelsea. Was it true?

Lulu shrugged. “Honestly, Chaz, you’re the only real person I know.”

Chelsea didn’t know what that meant. On the other hand, she didn’t need to ask for an explanation. At Blair Academy, where they both went to school, many of the parents were mega-rich, like Lulu’s. The kids wore uniforms, but the girls all carried designer bags and wore expensive shoes—everything was about what you had and what kind of car your parents would get you when you turned seventeen. A popular senior girl posted a video on YouTube of her parents surprising her with a Porsche for her birthday. Chelsea had shown her parents, hoping it would inspire them to buy her a sick ride.

“Wow,” said Sean. He was speechless after that.

“Keep dreaming,” said Kate. She walked off, laughing.

“Thanks, Mom,” Chelsea called after her. “Thanks a lot.”

Who went to Paris over break? And who was skiing in Vail? How much did your prom dress cost? And did you have the new iPhone 5? These were the things that mattered to the student population at Blair Academy. Somehow Chelsea seemed to float above it all, watching the competitions unfold. Not that she didn’t like nice things or bug her parents for the things she wanted.

You don’t seem stuck-up like the other girls at Blair. You’re different. I can tell
, Adam wrote to her.

How could he tell, she wondered, that she wasn’t like the other girls? And was it true?

Chelsea heard Lulu’s phone chime and looked over inquiringly. Lulu was always getting interesting communications … from exes, distant relatives, girls who thought Lulu wanted to steal their boyfriends. But Lulu didn’t say anything. Then Chelsea got a message from Adam.

So do you want to get together tonight?
She felt a little rush of excitement.

She read the message out loud to Lulu, who smiled for the first time all night. “So?” she said. “Are you up for it? I’ll call Conner. We can double.”

“Wait a minute,” said Chelsea. “What about your whole gateway-to-the-real-world thing? If I get together with him, that’s the
real
real world.”

“Well,” said Lulu, “if you really like him, let’s do it.”

Chelsea pushed out a small laugh. “Yeah, my parents will go for that. Sure.”

“Who says they have to know?”

Lulu looked back at her phone and started tapping away. She was living in a fantasy world where she thought everybody’s parents failed to notice their comings and goings. Chelsea wasn’t even allowed to spend the night at Lulu’s now that her mother realized that Lulu’s parents were rarely home in the evening and the housekeeper/nanny went home at eight. Of course, that was three years ago. They were old enough to be home alone. But not, her mother contended, overnight.

“Scared?” Lulu asked when Chelsea didn’t say anything.

It sounded like a dare. Lulu looked up quickly with a wicked smile and a wink that told Chelsea it was. Chelsea started to get the
uncomfortable feeling she’d been getting around Lulu lately—when Lulu wanted something from Chelsea that she couldn’t give.

They’d tried to sneak out recently, at Lulu’s urging. Sean had caught them climbing out of Chelsea’s window with one of the rollaway fire escape ladders they kept under Chelsea’s bed. When they made it down (which was not easy and was more than a little scary), he was standing on the lawn. Weirdly, he was eating an ice pop; he seemed to be enjoying it and the whole scenario. He must have been in the kitchen and heard them unroll the ladder, which clanked loudly against the side of the house. They hadn’t discussed the evening again, so Chelsea wasn’t sure how he’d caught them. It hadn’t been that long ago—a couple of weeks, maybe.