Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1 (43 page)

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Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank

Tags: #Fiction, #Domestic Fiction, #General, #Sagas, #Women - South Carolina, #South Carolina, #Mothers and Daughters, #Women, #Sisters, #Sullivan's Island (S.C. : Island), #Sullivan's Island (S.C.: Island)

BOOK: Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1
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One of his hands disappeared, his moaning became louder and

he sucked harder on my second toe.

“Roger?”

“Not now.” He moaned and moaned and moaned, and

stopped, rested his head on the end of the bed and dropped my

right foot.

He looked up at me with the most bizarre sheepish look

and said,“You were fabulous!”

“I was?”

“Yeah, do you want to spend the night or can I drive you

home?”

I didn’t know what to say.Was that all? I mean, no romp in

the sheets for me, just clean feet? Suddenly, I wasn’t stoned any-

more. “Gosh, it’s getting late, you know? Why don’t I just call a

cab?”

“Don’t do anything. I’ll be right back,” he said and dis-

appeared into the bathroom.

The sounds of water running were background music for

what was one of the strangest moments I’d ever had in all my

adult life. No, I thought again and added my childhood too. Here

I was, lying on the bed of a man I’d met only twice wearing a

corset and thong panties. I had been wined, dined, and had a lit-

tle smokey thrown in for good measure and my desire had died

on the vine like an overlooked ripe grape. It was such a waste.

The bathroom door opened and he came out in a towel. He

picked up his robe from the floor, put it on and, in the cheeriest

voice I’d ever heard him use, he said, “I’m going to pour a

cognac. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

He was getting all snuggy for the night. Now that my toes

were spent he didn’t need me anymore. Suddenly, I found this

funny.

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

289

I rolled out of bed and wondered what Maggie would say if

I told her this. As I put on my clothes in the bathroom, I prac-

ticed my lines.
Oh, yes, Maggie, Roger is a wonderful guy, no doubt

about it. No, he’s a man of his word! He said all he wanted to do was

kiss me. Okay, he left out the part about wanting to get off while sucking

my toes, but hey! You can’t expect a man to tell you everything, right?

This was too good to drop on the phone. I’d have to drive

out to the Island so that I could see her face when I told her.

This would freak her right out of her Talboted, duck-motiffed,

monogrammed, Junior-Leagued gourd. Yes, this was a classic

dating story of industrial strength.

I invited myself over to Maggie’s for brunch, promising to

bring fresh bagels. I threw on an old pair of khakis, my Weejuns

with no socks and a paint-stained sweatshirt with some feminist

political statement on it. I drove over to the Island as fast as I

could.When I pulled up in the backyard, Grant was pulling out

with the boys and the boat.

“Hey! Y’all gone fishing?”

“Hey yourself ! How’s Roger?” Grant called out.

“Well, Roger’s a
very
interesting guy,” I said.“Want a bagel?”

“See? I knew you’d like him! Got pumpernickel?”

“Sure, here’s two for my little baby nephews too.”

The boys groaned and I smiled. They were huge—hardly

babies anymore.

“Thanks. See you later,” Grant said.

If Grant knew the truth about his pal Roger, he’d flat drop

dead, I thought. I went in the house and helped myself to a cup of

coffee. I put two bagels on a plate, got a knife out of the drawer

and some cream cheese from the refrigerator. I brought it all out

to the porch, where Maggie was reading the Sunday paper. The

sun was shining and it was a beautiful morning. Sweater weather.

“Hey, sister,” I said,“hungry?”

“Fresh bagels! Sure, gimme one. Hey, you look great—your

hair, that is, not the outfit.What did you do?”

“I spent two hours with Svengali last week. He wants to

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

meet you.” She was wearing a turtleneck and a new neon green

running suit—the kind that cost twice my mortgage payment. I

split a bagel with the knife and spread a thin layer of low-fat

cream cheese across it. “You got some helluva nerve insulting

my clothes. Go look in the mirror, baby, Halloween’s over.”

She leaned over, took the bagel and gave me a sisterly peck

on the cheek. “Kiss my fanny, honey chile, but not before you

sign me up for a makeover! I just bought it.Wild, huh? ’Eah, let

me see the back! Great cut!”

I just shook my head and told her all about Eva at the

Chanel counter with her cache of samples and about Kim. She

got very excited about the discount, as I knew she would.

“Now tell me all about Roger,” she said. “How was your

date? Did you do the deed?”

“Are you comfortable? Do you have any blood pressure

medication in the house?”

I told her the tale, every single thing I could remember. We

screamed and laughed until we had tears streaming down our faces.

“Tell me you’re lying!” she said, over and over.

“Honey, I ain’t lying, ’eah? This is the gospel!” I said at least

ten times.

“Lord have mercy!”

“I tell you, Maggie, I ain’t cut out for this singles business.

I’m too straight and I’m too old to change.”

“I’m glad you’re straight. I like you just the way you are.”

“Thanks. Hey, did I tell you that Tom’s back with Karen?”

“Bump them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I say. I can’t keep track of him and his love

life and frankly, I could finally care less. I sign the papers this

week.”

“It’s about time,” she said.

“Yeah, Tom finally agreed to the money I wanted. In fact,

after weeks of holding us up, he suddenly called Michelle and

said that he’d give me whatever I want.”

“Why would he do that? That’s not like him at all.”

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

291

“I have no idea. Maybe he’s afraid of the Millennium.”

“Which reminds me, what are we going to do on New

Year’s Eve?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Have you spoken to the twins and the boys?”

“No, but I figured I’d invite them all for Christmas and let

them stay until New Year’s Day if they wanted to. I mean, the

year 2000—it’s a big deal. I thought it would be special if we

were all together. I could even rent another house, you know?

What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea.What’s the Island doing to cele-

brate?”

“I don’t know, but I imagine there will be fireworks and so

forth. Probably a special service at Stella Maris, don’t you

think?”

“Yeah. God—2000.Amazing, huh? I can’t believe it’s almost

’eah.”

“Yeah,” she said.“Grab a jacket and let’s sit on the beach.”

I put on one of the boys’ windbreakers and off we went.We

kicked off our shoes and crossed the yard, climbing the walkover

that protected the dunes. On the other side, we sat on the bot-

tom step and at the same moment, we dug our toes deep into

white sand to stay warm. Its touch was cool to my skin but

soothing.This burying of feet was another insignificant or maybe

not so insignificant tradition that tied us together. Despite our

many differences, we were sisters to the bone, locked into little

habits and special words that bound us together. More impor-

tantly, we searched each other to build new similarities and to

stay relevant to each other.

“Susan? I gotta tell you something,” Maggie said. “I really

thought that Grant was having an affair. Thank God I was

wrong. I was so happy that the matches were Bucky’s I didn’t

even want to punish him.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said.“I would’ve kissed Bucky.”

“Right. But I know that infidelity’s possible, ’eah? That hospi-

tal’s crawling with young, beautiful nurses and others who spend

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

two hours getting all spiffed up for work in the morning.Their sole

purpose in life is to trap a doctor—married or not. Grant leaves me

in my nightgown looking like I’m crawling out of a train wreck

and comes home late to find me looking like a tired old bag.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, and I told you Grant wasn’t

screwing around. He just wouldn’t do it, Maggie.”

“Listen, remember Livvie? She said, ‘Trust ’em and they

throw you!’ She always said that.”

“Well, it can’t hurt to keep your eyes open, but I seriously

doubt you have anything to worry about. It’s not like Tom’s dis-

ease is contagious.”

“I don’t know about that. Grant could’ve found another

pack of matches in Bucky’s room and just lied to me.”

“Jesus, Maggie. What is this,
Perry Mason?
Do you really

think Grant would do something so devious?”

“You never know,” she said.

The tide was going out. It was another beautiful South Car-

olina day.There was so much blue sky it was amazing.The beach

was empty, except for a couple strolling together, farther down

the Island.We could see them throwing a stick to their dog and

the dog running around, obviously having a wonderful time.

Where else was there so much endless beauty and serenity?

The beach always gave something to me, something akin to

checking the cosmic e-mail. I could talk to God on Sullivan’s

Island.

“Getting chilly, ’eah?” I said.

“Winter’s coming,” Maggie finally answered after her eyes

scanned the entire beach.

“ ’Eah, gone be in the fifties tonight. Time to turn on the

furnace.”

“Yep. Hey, do you remember the time we caught Daddy

fooling around with his secretary?”

It wasn’t exactly on the front row of my mind, but given her

suspicion of Grant’s behavior, I could see why she dredged it up.

“Who could forget that?” I said.

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

293

“You think Momma ever knew?”

“Yeah, she knew. Livvie told me.”

“But she never said anything to us. Amazing.”

“That was her attempt at dignity in a war zone.You know, in

my middle age, I’m starting to realize a lot of things about old

MC that I never could understand before.”

“Such as?”

I picked up a handful of sand and let the fine white particles

run through my fingers. Looking out over the horizon, I spotted a

cluster of shrimp boats, nets down. I thought for a moment about

which thread to pull to begin unraveling our mother’s story.

“Such as, nothing ever prepared her for the life she had. Life

threw her one disaster after another. I’m not so sure I could’ve tol-

erated all she did. I probably would’ve run away from everyone.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I certainly do mean it. Maggie, look at her life. Six kids.

That alone is justification to pickle your own liver. Can you

imagine believing that using birth control would send you to

hell for all of eternity? And she had her parents to contend with

and
Daddy. I don’t know how she did it all, how she bought into

it. I couldn’t.”

“I couldn’t either. But she was from another time, another

generation.”

“Guilt, honey,” I said. “Good old-fashioned Catholic guilt.

Her parents spread it on her like mayonnaise on white bread,

and then they stuffed it with bologna. And you know what else?

Here’s the big revelation coming.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Even though Livvie made it possible for us to survive all

the insanity, I grew up and committed the stupidest sin of all.”

Feeling dead serious, I stood up and walked a few paces away.

“Come on, let’s walk.” I turned to pull her up and rolled up my

pants legs to under my knees. I wanted to tell her things we had

never discussed. We walked along the water’s edge, the startling

cold water of early November washing our bare feet.

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

“Maggie, I despised Daddy.” My voice was low and strong.

“For good reason.”

“You are always asking me why I can’t let his death go. I

think he was murdered.” My voice rolled over the sound of the

ocean. If the wind was right, half of the Island probably heard

me. “All these years I have struggled to accept the heart attack

story, but something in my guts tells me it ain’t true.”

“Susan, there was an investigation and an autopsy.The inves-

tigation proved nothing and the autopsy showed a heart attack.”

“Daddy didn’t die of a heart attack. I’m sure of it! He may

have had one in the process of being run off the road, but I just

know that his death was no accident. And the fight we all had

with him didn’t help.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.What fight?”

“What fight? When I hit him with that branch!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.You hit who?”

“Daddy! Why can’t you remember this?”

“I don’t know.”

Maggie had one of her classic psychological trauma blocks.

The wind was picking up and the fine sand was swirling and

blowing, stinging our feet and faces. I had other things to tell

her about Daddy’s death, but for the moment I was more con-

cerned about her and Grant.

“Just don’t do what I did, Maggie. Because of Daddy, I grew

up with a frozen heart and married somebody who did
the same

thing
to me that Daddy did to Momma.”

“That’s not unusual,” she said.

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