Slow Dancing on Price's Pier (38 page)

“Thanks.” Garret walked into the big apartment. Over the last few weeks, Jonathan had done a great job of making his new home feel comfortable and personalized. A bookshelf ran along the far edge of the wall, the kitchen counter held a bowl of apples and pears, and the couch cushions were a frumpy, comfortable-looking mess. Garret could easily picture Irina here, lounging, laughing, falling asleep on her father's chest. A wave of longing swept over him when he thought of his condo—the expensive and top-grade showpiece he'd worked so hard on—as empty and pristine as a department store display. The hope that it wouldn't be so empty forever, that he was on the brink of rediscovering the life he'd always been meant to have, gave him courage to go on. “Looks like you're getting comfortable here,” Garret said.

“Yeah. It's starting to feel like it's mine, you know?” He moved through the room quickly, sitting down on a chair to pull on his shoes. “And it turns out, I like living alone. I mean, I like having Irina here too. But there's something . . . I don't know . . . liberating about it. I don't have to care about leaving dishes in the sink. And if I want to spend all night reading until three a.m., I don't have to worry about turning off the light so someone else can sleep.”

“That's great,” Garret said. He watched his brother stand and grab a broken-in overcoat from the back of his chair. “You heading out?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said. “Going to the library to hear a lecture about the history of satellite making. Want to come?”

“It sounds great. But it's not really my scene.”

“No worries.” Jonathan shrugged with a smile. “Care to walk me over? It's just a couple blocks.”

“Sure,” Garret said.

The early evening was bright and crisp, the streets nearly empty. The colonial blue and clay red of Newport's oldest buildings were severe against the sky. Talking to Jonathan while they were walking was not the best timing; Garret would have preferred to talk somewhere quiet—and private too. But if life in politics had taught him one thing, it was that people who waited for the perfect opportunity would wait for it forever. Once Garret had decided to take action, action had to be taken—come what may.

At a stoplight, he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. A cold wind swept down the street. “So, are you seeing anyone?” Garret asked.

Jonathan grinned. If Garret didn't know better, he'd say his brother's eyes were twinkling. “Not yet. But I've got prospects.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of prospects?”

“The kind with pretty eyes and a warm smile,” he said.

The light changed, and Garret realized he forgot to acknowledge his brother's good humor before they started down the crosswalk. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts. He was glad that Jonathan was dating—or at least thinking of dating—because it meant his brother was healing. He was learning to make his life into the kind of life he wanted. But it also meant he was ready to move on, and perhaps let Thea do the same.

“I'm thinking of seeing someone too,” Garret said, his voice strained.

“Anyone I know?”

He nodded. He started to say
yes
but the word got stuck in his throat.

“Really?” Jonathan's eyes flashed interest. “The blond from the cheese shop? That waitress you were telling me about from the airport?”

“No.” Garret's stomach soured. “Someone you know better than that.”

Jonathan stopped walking. He didn't seem to notice that they were blocking the entrance to the library, where people needed to go around them to get inside. His smile wavered. “You don't mean . . . no. You're not talking about . . .”

Garret said nothing.

Jonathan's confusion exploded into rage. “You've got to be
kidding
me.”

“We didn't plan it. It just . . .” He was going to say,
It just happened
, but he realized how terribly cliché an admission it would be—a line from a movie, almost, and one that explained nothing.

“Bullshit.” Jonathan lifted his arms and dropped them, the gesture rife with futility. “This is bullshit.”

“You're mad . . .”

“Of course I'm mad. Of course I'm fucking mad!”

Garret glanced nervously at a woman hurrying her children away from them. He needed to get them out of the doorway area, out of the public eye. But even though Jonathan looked around frantically, as if searching for help, Garret knew he wasn't seeing. He was blinded by emotion—insensible to anything that was going on around him. Garret tried to calm him down. “Look, Jon. We don't have to talk about this here. Let's go somewhere. We'll figure it out.”

“I'm not going anywhere. Not with you.” Jonathan laughed, his eyes wild with disbelief. “What is this? Some kind of payback because I married her? You're gonna move in on her now to get back at me?”

“Jonathan.” Garret tried to gentle his voice, but it didn't come out in the soothing tone he'd hoped. Instead, it sounded more like a warning. He'd never been good at backing down—not with anyone. And yet, he
had
to get good at it, fast. He couldn't let this blow out of control. “Are you mad that she still loves me? Or are you mad that she's making decisions without you for the first time?”

“She makes plenty of decisions without me.”

“
Now
, she does. You cheated on her. And then you divorced her. You don't get a say in what she does anymore.”

“Fine. I get that. But it's not about Thea. It's about you and me—being brothers again. Being friends.”

“That's why we're talking about this . . .”

“Right. As if you haven't already slept with her.”

A pang of guilt swept through him. “Look, Jonathan—”

“You
did
sleep with her. I can't believe this. All those years you wouldn't speak to her, all the years you and I had to tiptoe around each other because you
hated
her guts and thought she wasn't good enough for me, and now you're sleeping with her?”

“You can't honestly tell me you're shocked,” Garret said, forcing his jaw to relax. “I
had
to hate her. Hate was easier. Hate meant I could pretend I didn't still love her. Jonathan—I know you can see this for what it really is.”

“Oh. Right. What it really is.” Jonathan laughed—cackled. “What you're telling me is that she never loved me. That it was always about you.”

Garret heard Jonathan's phone ringing; they both ignored it. “No—I'm not—”

Jonathan grabbed Garret by the collar and pushed him against the wall. “Look. You're a selfish prick. You always have been. You want to know why Thea and I got married? Because she hated your guts. And because I had to clean up the mess you made.”

Something hardened in Garret's brain—some primitive command that readied him for combat. If Jonathan wanted a fight, Garret wouldn't throw the first punch. But he would throw the last. “I'm warning you. You better step down.”

Jonathan scowled for a long moment. Their eyes locked. And then, with a slight push, he let his brother go. “I've been stepping down my whole life. But now I'm done.” He walked away from Garret a few steps. “You want Thea? Fine. Have her. But if you do, don't expect to have anything to do with me again.”

 

 

At the coffee shop on Monday, Thea was too distracted to focus on her work. She'd stopped by with Irina during the evening shift to check on the shop, and as so often happened, she found herself drawn into the crises of the moment—a broken grinder, a clogged sink, the phone ringing off the hook. She sent Irina into the office to play and got to work, barely noticing what she did. She was waiting for her cell phone to ring. She was hoping for good news.

Garret had gone to talk with Sue yesterday, and she wished he would have called already and given her a much-needed update. She wanted the assurance that Sue would support them—that she and Garret would be allowed to see how far their love for each other could go. And she wanted to hear from Jonathan too—she
needed
to hear from him. Thea had no idea how to handle Irina's collection of contraband. Would it be best to ask Irina to tell the truth—and possibly set her up to get into even bigger trouble by lying? Or was it better to confront her outright?

She was surprised when she saw Sue walk into the coffee shop, her jacket zipped tight to her chin and a soft cream hat pulled down over her forehead. Her gaze homed in immediately on Thea, and the way she crossed the room—swiftly, directly, unsmiling—made the fine hairs on Thea's arms stand on end.

“Sue. What's happened?”

Sue glanced up at Thea. Her frown was stern—an expression Thea had seen in only the rarest moments over the course of their lives. “Can we talk alone?”

“Of course. Let's—we'll head in back.”

Thea led Sue down the hall to her office, where her desk was strewn with last week's invoices and her daughter's toys littered the floor. Irina, who was sitting at her chalkboard, jumped to her feet when she saw her grandmother. Sometime during the last hour, she'd done her own hair: two ashy brown and lopsided pigtails.

“Grandma!”

“Hello, my darling.” Sue kissed the top of her head.

“I didn't know you were coming!” Irina beamed up at her.

“I just stopped by to talk to your mommy.”

Thea smoothed back Irina's bangs. “Go out into the store and stay with Claudine for a few minutes.”

Irina looked from Thea to Sue and back. “But I want to stay here with you. Grandma, it's okay if I stay here, right?”

“Not this time,” Sue said. Irina went instantly quiet. Thea too felt the ominous shift in the air around them, the caution in Sue's tone.

“But you'll come see me later? Right?” Irina asked.

“Yes,” Sue said. “But for now you've got to run along.” When Irina had gone, she closed the door to the office and did not sit. She pulled herself upright, and when she spoke she sounded as if she'd been rehearsing. “I've tolerated a lot in my life,” she said, her voice low and tight. “When you were dating Garret, I welcomed you as a daughter. When you changed your mind and married Jonathan, I kept my opinions to myself. When you divorced him, I fought for you to stay a part of this family. But now, I don't think I can do it anymore.”

Thea's head felt light. “What happened?”

“My boys are fighting again,” she said. “Over you.”

“So Garret told him . . .”

“I thought Jonathan might have been understanding. But he wasn't. And I'm not sure he isn't justified.”

Thea leaned against the desk behind her, unable to process everything at once. In the hours before dawn, she and Garret had talked about telling Jonathan as soon as possible. Neither one of them liked the idea of keeping secrets. And yet she hadn't realized he'd meant to act quite so fast. He must have been following Sue's advice.

Thea hooked her hands on her apron. The possibility that she could lose everything was no longer some specter distant as a boat on the horizon. It was here and now. Sue was frustrated with her, and whatever Sue decided about the situation, it would be law.

“Thea . . .”
When Sue spoke again her voice was pained, as if she was on the brink of tears. “I need you to make this stop.”

“I don't know what you're asking . . .”

“Ken's retiring this year. He's worked so hard for this family—and he feels like he's finally going to get some peace and relaxation in his life. The doctor told him he needed to cut back on his work and his stress, or he's in danger of having a stroke.”

“Do Jonathan and Garret know this? Why didn't you tell us sooner?”

“Because he didn't want you to know. He didn't want to worry you. Isn't that funny . . .
him
worrying about worrying
you
kids . . .” Sue shook her head, lost for a moment in her own thoughts. When her eyes cleared, she took Thea's hand. “You know I love you. But some relationships can only bear so much.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“What do I think
you
should do?” Sue corrected her. “Please. Have some mercy on my family. We need peace. My whole family needs peace. And I would think you do too. The three of you have been trying to find a balance since you were kids, and it's never worked. Not once. It never will.”

Thea began to tremble. She held on to Sue's hand. “So what are you asking me?”

“I'm saying that it's time to end all this.”

“Are you asking me to stay away from Garret? From Jonathan? Even from you?”

“I'm sorry,” Sue said. “But yes, I am.”

 

 

The year after Thea had graduated high school—after Jonathan had proposed with a
real
ring this time and Thea had said she would think about it, and after Garret had paid his fine and started over at a two-year school—Thea became an orphan. Her mother and father had packed up what things they needed to start over in Turkey, and the deeds to the house and the Dancing Goat had been signed over to her.

She'd stood in the departure hall of the airport, escalators and sunglass kiosks and the echo of mile-high ceilings surrounding her on all sides, and when her parents had rounded the last corner of the gate and she could no longer see them, she knew for the first time what it was to be without them. In some ways, she was no longer their child—no longer a child at all. The responsibility of their business and their home had fallen on her, and she'd taken up the burdens gladly—her last connection to her family. Watching the planes nose higher into the atmosphere behind tall windows, she felt as if a part of her was going missing—as if her father had accidentally packed a piece of her heart in his suitcase with his socks, and now it was being loaded into some dark and anonymous cargo hold.