Second Chance Summer (38 page)

T
HE
F
OURTH OF
J
ULY WAS SUNNY AND CLEAR, AND IT FELL ON A
Saturday, which meant that the beach was packed. Lucy, Elliot, and I had run around all day and had sold out by noon of the tricolored Firecracker ice pops. Even Fred was there, hovering around, mostly getting in the way as he clearly just wanted to get back to his fish. But when the ice machine broke down in the middle of a rush, I was very glad that he was there, since he was the only one who knew how to fix it.

My mother had decided at the last moment to invite the neighbors to a barbecue before we would all head out to the dock to watch the fireworks, and had enlisted me with bringing home supplies. Five p.m. couldn’t come soon enough, though it was more like five twenty by the time we got through the line of people who wanted fries and sodas and water and—shockingly for the beach—burgers. As we locked up, I reminded Lucy about the barbecue, and when Elliot heard that Lucy might be coming, he invited himself along too. By that point, I figured that more was definitely merrier, so
I invited Fred, who only thanked me without committing, and Leland, who told me regretfully that he’d have to miss my rager, as he was one of the people on the water with the company that was setting off the fireworks from the middle of the lake.

“They needed a lifeguard,” he explained as I unlocked my bike from the beach entrance. “You know, in case someone gets hit by a firework or drowns setting one off or something.”

I didn’t exactly find this reassuring, but I told him to be careful, then biked to Henson’s and grabbed all the rest of their corn on the cob, hoping it would be enough for however many people ended up coming. I walked my bike past the bakery, peering inside, wanting to see Henry, if only for a few minutes. But Borrowed Thyme was packed, and though he caught my eye through the window and waved, I could tell that he looked stressed-out, and I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the best time to bother him.

So I biked home alone, feeling the wind through my hair and smelling the scent of backyard grills as I went. The Dip didn’t faze me anymore—it wasn’t until I’d coasted down it and crested up the other side that I looked back and realized how far I’d come.

I leaned my bike against the porch and headed up the stairs, feeling desperately in need of a hot shower, so that I wouldn’t smell like fryer grease and the batch of lemonade that I’d spilled on myself. I had no idea what the surprise Henry had promised me might be, but just thinking about it was enough to make me smile.

But I snapped out of it as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. My mother was stalking between the counters, her hair frizzy and coming out of its normal neat bun. She was banging pans much harder than was necessary, and I felt myself instinctively shrinking back, remembering in a rush why I’d never liked it when we entertained up here—the smallness of the kitchen always seemed to exponentially increase my mother’s stress. Murphy had apparently picked up on this as well, and he slunk past me, his ears pressed down against his head, and huddled behind my ankles. I bent down to pet him, and as I did, it was then that my mother turned around and saw me.

“Finally!” she snapped, brushing back a lock of hair. I could see that her face was flushed and her eyes looked red-rimmed. “Did you get the corn?”

“All they had left,” I said, holding up the Henson’s bag but making no move to come any farther into the kitchen. “So I’ll just shuck it outside, okay?”

“I need you to set out condiments and plates,” my mother said, either not hearing or just choosing to talk over me. “And then if you could get the junk off this table, I’d appreciate it. I don’t even know how many hamburgers to make; I guess Warren’s girlfriend is coming, but he’s not sure….”

“Oh,” I said quietly, suddenly regretting the invitations I’d extended at work. But this was supposed to be a barbecue; I wasn’t sure why my mother was getting so stressed-out about it. “Well, I
actually invited some people from work. So we might have three extras as well.”

My mother slammed down the pot she’d been lifting up and turned to face me. I suddenly wished that Warren or Gelsey were here, so maybe we could spread around some of my mother’s anger a bit. She didn’t get mad often, so when she did, it was like all her pent-up frustration got unleashed at once. And now, it seemed, it was being unleashed on me. “God, Taylor,” she snapped. “Did you ask me? Did you realize that this might be a huge inconvenience? Did you consider checking with me first?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking a tiny step out of the kitchen. I could feel what always happened when someone confronted me—my flight instinct, kicking in, telling me to be anywhere but there. “I didn’t think—”

“No,” she interrupted me, moving another pot off a burner and slamming it down. “You didn’t think. Because that would have involved thinking about someone else, wouldn’t it? Someone other than yourself?”

I felt tears prick my eyes, and suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to five minutes before, when I’d been riding my bike and everything had still been fine. “Sorry,” I muttered, feeling how hot and tight my throat was, and not wanting to cry in front of my mother. “I’ll go shuck.” And I took the bag of corn and walked out to the front porch as fast as I could. Once there, I looked for a
long moment at my bike, but I knew that if I left, I’d just be making things worse. And besides, where would I go?

I sat down on the nearest chair and picked up the first ear of corn with hands that were trembling. As I pulled back the husk, I felt a tear hit my cheek. My heart was still beating hard and I was, for whatever reason, more upset now than I had been when my mother was yelling at me. I wiped my hand across my eyes, took a shaky breath, and started to shuck the corn.

“Hi.” I looked over and saw a pair of feet standing in first position, then up to see my mother, biting her lip. She sat down on the small table that stood between the two porch chairs and leaned forward. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I just,” I started, having to take a breath before I could continue, feeling like I was on the verge of starting to cry again. I gave the husk a hard yank and dropped it into the bag at my feet. “I’m sorry for inviting people. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I can call them and tell them not to come.”

My mom shook her head. “It’s fine. I promise. The thing is…” She sighed and looked out to the road for a moment. Two people walking a golden retriever passed by, waving to us. My mother waved back, then looked back at me. “I just kept thinking, all day, about how this is your father’s last Fourth,” she said quietly. This didn’t do much to keep my tears at bay and I pressed my lips together hard. “I just wanted everything to be perfect,” she said. I looked over at her,
and saw to my alarm that there were tears in her eyes, threatening to fall.

This, frankly, was a lot more frightening than the yelling. Seeing my mother sad, vulnerable,
scared
—it was too much for me, and I grabbed another ear, careful not to look at her again.

“There’s just nothing worse than a ruined holiday,” she continued, but she sounded less like she was about to cry, and I could feel myself relax just a tiny bit.

“I know,” I said, without even thinking about it. When my mother didn’t say anything, I looked up at her. “My birthday?” I prompted, then immediately wished I hadn’t said anything, as her face crumpled a little bit and she looked like she was about to cry again. “Sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean that, Mom. Don’t…”

My mother shook her head and looked away from me. Murphy padded tentatively out to the porch, maybe figuring that as long as we were no longer yelling, it was safe to emerge. To my surprise, my mother scooped the dog up, resting her cheek against his wiry fur for just a moment. “I thought you didn’t like him,” I said.

My mom smiled, and settled the dog on her lap. “I guess he’s growing on me,” she said, running her hand over the top of his head. We sat in silence, and as I dropped one ear of corn in the bag and extracted a new one, my mom shook her head. “Leave the rest,” she said. “Warren and Gelsey can do them when they get home.” I dropped the ear back, surprised, and my mom leaned forward. “And I
am sorry about your birthday, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. I meant it too. I’d been upset about the birthday thing, at first, but so many other things had happened since that it had lost a lot of its importance. “And I promise it’ll be fine tonight. We’ll make it a good night for Dad.” She looked at me, and I gave her a slightly trembly smile, realizing how strange it was to be the one consoling her, trying to cheer her up, when I’d known a lifetime of it being the other way around.

“I hope so,” she said quietly. And then, she leaned a little closer to me and smoothed my hair down, then rubbed my back in small circles the way she’d done when I was young. The things we’d been fighting about no longer seemed to matter. After a moment, I surprised myself by leaning into her and resting my head on her shoulder, in a way I hadn’t done since I’d been very little, and her shoulder had seemed a lot bigger, big enough to hold up not only me, but the whole world. And for just a second, as I closed my eyes and she ran her hand over my hair, it felt like it might still be true.

Despite all the stress, the barbecue turned out fine. Gelsey and I had set up citronella candles all around the backyard (she insisted on doing
grands jetés
to go between them) and my father had taken over grill duties, piling the platter high with cheeseburgers and hot dogs, wearing pressed khakis and a polo shirt that now looked much too big on him.

Henry and his dad had to do some prep work for the bakery that night, so my mother had invited Davy over and Mr. Crosby had given his babysitter the night off. All in all, it was a bit of a mixed group, but everyone seemed to be getting along. Fred showed up, bringing Jillian as his date and bearing two sea bass that my father grilled, and that everyone had effusively praised, making Fred turn even redder than normal. As soon as she had arrived, Lucy had been seized by Nora and Gelsey, and was now running an impromptu backbend lesson on the side of the lawn. Elliott had freaked out when he learned Jeff was a professional screenwriter. They had discovered a mutual love of science fiction movies, and had spent most of the barbecue talking only to each other. My mom had dragged some chairs out to the back lawn, and she hovered near my dad while he sat next to Fred, the two of them laughing about something. Davy was trying to teach the dog—unsuccessfully—to fetch, but he nonetheless seemed committed to his task.

I saw Warren and Wendy holding hands and talking to Kim, and I headed over to join them. “It’s just such a fascinating area!” Kim was saying as I joined their circle. I noticed that Wendy looked particularly patriotic—she was wearing a red-and-white-striped shirt with blue shorts, and had pulled back her hair with a red headband. “We’re definitely looking at getting an animal tech—or maybe a vet—into this pilot we’re developing,” Kim said.

“Wendy’s going to be a vet,” Warren said, and I just stared at
him for a moment, beaming at the girl next to him. It was like I barely recognized him anymore.

“Well, we’ll see,” Wendy said with a laugh, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “I’m just starting college in the fall.”

“But you should see her in the store,” Warren gushed, as though Kim was actually interviewing Wendy for a job and needed to hear all about how fabulous she was. “She has an incredible way with animals.”

“Can you help out over there?” I asked Wendy, pointing in the direction of Davy. Murphy was now circling him while he threw the stick. The dog watched the stick arc across the lawn, and then went back to jumping up at Davy, missing the point of the exercise entirely.

Wendy shook her head. “I’m not sure how effective I’d be,” she said, giving me a smile. I noticed she rarely stopped smiling, and Warren hadn’t seemed to stop all night. Before she had shown up, I truly hadn’t been aware my brother had this many teeth.

“It’s still very impressive,” Kim said, taking a sip of her wine. “If we get this show going, we’ll have to hire you on as a consultant.”

Wendy blushed, turning the same color as her headband. “Oh, I don’t know how much help I’d be,” she murmured.

“She’s just being modest,” Warren said. He put his arm around her shoulders a little carefully, like he was still getting used to doing this. “She knows everything there is to know about animals. Tell
them what you told me yesterday. The thing about the elephants?”

“Oh,” Wendy said. “Well, Warren and I were talking about…” She paused and threaded her hand through my brother’s, up by her shoulder, and I saw her give his hand a quick squeeze before continuing. “Death,” she said, glancing at him once before looking back to Kim. “And I was telling him about how animals actually have grieving rituals, funeral procedures…. It’s not just limited to humans.”

“Really?” Kim asked, raising her eyebrows. “See, that’s just the kind of stuff that would be great to have on our show. What kind of rituals?”

“So,” Wendy said. She started to talk about llamas dying of broken hearts, of elephants trying to lift their dead babies, of gorillas sleeping in the nests of their dead parents and refusing to eat. And while a part of me was listening, I was really just trying to process a few things. One was that my brother had somehow found someone who liked facts—and sharing them—as much as he did. And the other was that he was talking to Wendy about death—which meant that he was talking to her about Dad, and what he was feeling. I thought about all the times Lucy had asked me if I wanted to talk, all the times that Henry had asked me leading questions about how things were at home, and how I had put them both off—with Lucy, by changing the subject, usually to one involving her love life, and with Henry, by kissing him. I had just assumed that Warren would
have been the same way, and the fact that he wasn’t was, weirdly, making me feel a little betrayed—like he’d broken an unspoken agreement that we’d had.

Kim was now asking Wendy if vets ever lived above their offices—this was apparently one of the premises of the show, along with a wacky receptionist—when the first
hiss
of a firework sounded, and I looked over toward the lake. Sure enough, there was the first firework, streaking across the darkening sky like a comet, exploding with a loud
bang
and turning into a red, white, and blue light. Everyone on the lawn clapped, and then began moving as a group down toward the dock, the better to watch the show.