East Hope (8 page)

“That looks good. Healthy too,” she said.

“Yeah—it is.” Rob wasn't interested in cooking, but he did like operating the gadgets she had accumulated: whipping up smoothies in the blender, cooking sandwiches on the panini press, and using the battery-operated wand to whip milk into foam for exotic coffee drinks.

“With skills like that you're going to make some girl very happy one day.”

“Mom,” he groaned. “You're so old-fashioned.”

Caroline smiled. Rob had probably already made a girl or girls very happy. He had no girlfriend at the moment, at least no one he'd told her about, but she remembered some of the girls from college who had come home with him for Harry's service. Two of them had stayed at the house. “Just friends,” he'd said at the time. Caroline had not forgotten their long shining hair, their concerned faces, the sound of their soft voices talking with Rob late into the night. She'd been relieved that he had this other world of friends, but also strangely sad. They seemed to be able to console him while she hadn't.

With his smoothie almost finished, Rob went to the cabinet to take out cereal. There the sun poured onto his hair, giving it the golden look he'd had when he was little, except that now his hair was coarser and less wavy than it used to be. Caroline had loved to kiss the top of his head when he was a little boy. She loved the smell of his hair, soft and cottony from sleep or matted and hot from play. Even now, when she caught him in a quick hug, he still smelled like that little boy, and despite the soaps and shampoo, there was that special warmth, the scent she'd always known, the scent of him.

He poured milk onto the cereal, pulling the drawer open for a spoon, and once again sat at the table. He seemed distracted, as if his mind were someplace else.

“Sweetie, are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I think I am. It's still so weird to come home and not have Dad here.” He rested his hand on her arm, smiling almost shyly. “How are you doing, Mom?”

“Better too. I'm glad it's summer. I'm ready for a change.”

They sat quietly together. Rob pulled his hand back and resumed eating.

“I thought I heard you on the phone late last night,” she said.

“Doug Hall called.” Rob pushed aside his hair that had fallen across his forehead. He looked away, as if guilty of something. He had Harry's nose, straight and neat. His lower lip was full, more pronounced than the upper. “Sorry if it woke you. His uncle's got a camp out west. They run wilderness trips in the San Juan mountain range.”

Doug was Rob's college roommate. Caroline had met him the day she took Rob to school, and one other time. It must have been parents' weekend.

“It turns out we got the jobs,” he said.

“What are you talking about? What jobs?”

“Jim and I are going out to Colorado to work for Doug's uncle. Like I told you.” He bent his head over his cereal bowl.

Jim was Rob's best friend and lived two streets over. They had known each other since the first grade. “You never told me anything about this.” Caroline pushed her mug away. The coffee tasted too strong. “I don't remember discussing this. When did you tell me?”

“Come on, Ma. Remember at Granddad's? Over spring break.”

Caroline thought back to the ten days they had spent with Richard, Harry's father. Harry had been an only child, and Richard was devastated by his son's death. Harry's mother had died only a few years before, and Caroline marveled at how Richard could survive so much loss. They had gone to see him in Florida, both for Christmas and also for Rob's vacation in March. Rob was close to his grandfather. Caroline had thought that time together would be good for both of them.

Rob looked up. “I know I told you.” He looked betrayed—or angry because she didn't remember, or didn't believe him.

Caroline had a vague memory of some conversation about hiking in Colorado. Maybe Rob had mentioned Doug, but a job, a summer job? She was sure she would have remembered that. Then again, her brain had been muddled at the time. It had been only weeks earlier when she and Pete had begun to piece together the extent of Harry's financial losses.

The kitchen was growing warm. Caroline had delayed turning on the air-conditioning, hoping to keep the utility bills down. “I was looking forward to having you home this summer,” she said. “I was hoping we could spend some time together. You've been away all year and—”

“I'm home for two more weeks. The camp's over in August.” Rob got up from the table and carried his dishes to the sink. He turned back to her. “Mom, please understand. It's like I need to breathe. The sky is so open there. God, it's amazing. The camp's not far from where Dad and I went fishing when I turned sixteen.”

Caroline felt her thoughts flutter about, as if birds were flying in her head. Everything she had looked forward to was disappearing before her eyes.

“But your job at the tennis club. Aren't you supposed to help with the youth clinics?”

“Mom, there are kids lined up to do that. I've already talked to the pro.”

Caroline felt her throat tightening. She took a deep breath. “Remember I told you about Aunt Lila's house?”

“Yeah. You said you were going to sell it.”

“Well, it needs some work. I was thinking of going up this summer to see to that and to clean it out. If you don't want to be here, we could both go up there.”

“Mom, I want to earn money. You told me we have to be careful. I want to work at this camp. This way I'll have money for school in the fall.”

“But it's expensive to fly out there.”

“Granddad gave me money for the ticket for my birthday.”

“But you'll be so far from home. Sweetie, you've had a rough year. I know how hard it is without Dad.”

“Mom, please.” He turned his back to her again, his arms braced against the sink. Rob sounded near tears. He shook his head.

Caroline went to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “If it's what you really want . . .”

He turned. “I don't mean to desert you.”

“It's fine, really.”

He gave her a quick hug. “Thanks, Mom.”

Rob made his arrangements to leave. He dug out camping gear stored in the garage, stacked clothes on the floor of his room, purchased batteries and a new headlamp. He packed and repacked his duffel bag. It was as if he were a sailor getting ready to ship out to sea. He was leaving her and she could do nothing to stop it.

The day before Rob's departure Caroline awoke in the middle of the night. Her stomach felt off. She heard Rob's footsteps in the hall and saw that the light was on in Harry's study. She found him there, sitting in Harry's chair at the desk.

“Is anything wrong?” she asked.

“Remember how Dad used to get up early, way before us, to work?” He looked at her; his lower lip quivered. “Something makes me keep coming in here, like I might find him. Like the heart attack never happened. Some kind of sick joke.” He turned away from her. “Sometimes I think I'm cracking up.”

“You're not cracking up.” Caroline went over and stood beside her son. She stroked his back. “It's a lot to get used to,” she said. “It's going to take a while.” She waited. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his face hidden from her in his hands. She couldn't tell if he was crying or not.

“You're sure you want to go?” she asked.

“Mom, don't.” He got up, pulling away from her.

“Rob, please.”

He turned and looked at her. His eyes had deep circles, as if he too had had sleepless nights. His hair sprang out from his head in uncombed clumps. He wore pajama bottoms that puddled around his feet and a ragged T-shirt, frayed at the neck. He looked a woebegone mixture of boy and man. “Good night, Ma.” His face softened slightly. “I'm okay. All right?” He went to his room, his bare feet making no sound at all.

When Rob was a little boy he used to crawl into his parents' bed first thing every morning. Harry never lingered, but took off for his run as soon as it was light. Rob would snuggle up to Caroline's back.

“I'm breathing with you, Mama.”

She would stay very still as Rob made funny little humming sounds. His breath was warm on her neck. She would start to hum along with him. No words, just the silly humming, a joke between them. After a few minutes she would say, “Okay, time to get up, cuddle bug.” Harry, once back from his run, would be expecting coffee and his cereal with fruit, bananas in the winter, strawberries in late spring, blueberries in summer.

Those mornings were a long time ago. By tomorrow Rob would be gone. All spring Caroline had waited for these months with her son, a chance to be a family. Instead she had suffocating bills, a shrinking checking account, painful memories, and a man who wanted more than she was willing to give. She thought again of East Hope and tried to remember whether Aunt Lila had had lilacs in her garden.

T
he rest of the weekend with Mary Beth was strained. She stayed in bed nursing her cold while Will spent the remainder of Saturday and most of Sunday cleaning out the garage to have it ready to show to Realtors and potential buyers, but also to avoid spending time in the house with his wife.

Finally, on Sunday afternoon when Will came home after a particularly long run, Mary Beth laid out her schedule for the coming weeks. She was headed back to Los Angeles to meet with Drew and the others working on the project, and from there a trip to Tokyo to meet with their Japanese counterparts. She asked Will to arrange putting their furniture into storage and presented him with a list of the things that she wanted shipped to New York. “Come on, Will. It's not so bad. It's going to be a fresh start,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. He kissed her and tried not to think about the life that they were leaving behind.

After her departure the days blurred together. Graduation came and went, but Will did not attend, knowing that Jennifer Whitely's father, a trustee, would march in the procession. During what would have been his tenth graduation ceremony at Habliston College, Will remained at home, cleaning out his office and packing boxes. He stayed inside all day, despite the great weather, feeling like a deviant or some kind of criminal.

The situation might have been different. If Mary Beth had mustered some small amount of indignation, even if she had not been willing to help him fight the accusations, he would have walked in the ceremony with his colleagues, showing everyone that he would not be cowed by the bogus claims of one undergraduate. The more he thought about it, the more he began to brood. It was as if his wife had abandoned him.

Will's mood continued to darken each day as he readied the house for the move. Mary Beth had already taken the guest room bed and dresser to New York, along with a pair of love seats from the living room, some end tables, and an assortment of pictures when she bought the apartment at the beginning of the year. Will was used to the missing furniture, and the real estate agent told him not to be concerned, as it made the house appear larger. Indeed, the house sold its first day on the market.

As he worked, Will contemplated the state of his marriage. He knew all married couples settled eventually into a practical rhythm, that it was normal for the passion to fade, but the more he thought about his life with Mary Beth the harder time he had remembering any shared joy between them in the last few years.

Not only had they been living in different places, they no longer shared any important decisions. When Mary Beth had accepted the management job in New York without consulting him, she reminded Will that he had accepted the chairmanship of the English department without talking to her, either. She bought the apartment without him, and later decided it was his turn to commute. They were a couple, but they didn't work out their problems together. Had it always been like that?

He remembered how thrilled Mary Beth had been when he was offered the job at Habliston. That decision had seemed automatic. If he truly loved his wife, would he hesitate to follow her to New York now?

Late one afternoon he sat on the back steps and flipped through the latest issue of
Down East
. Tomorrow was trash day. He had been about to toss the issue in the recycling bin. Maine, he thought, and suddenly the idea of a trip there to celebrate their anniversary came back to him. A vacation together—would it maybe make a difference? He couldn't allow himself to give up.

Will thought of his parents, married nearly fifty years until his mother's death. His dad was not a quitter. His parents had seemed happy, but probably their marriage hadn't always been easy. Rough times in the hardware business had made money a worry. He knew his mother had longed to travel. She had come from a more affluent home and had spent her junior year of college in Paris. Will remembered arguments over his brother, Rusty, who was not a strong student and prone to falling in with a rough crowd in high school. His parents didn't always agree on how to handle their older son. Still, they had stuck by each other.