Porch Lights (13 page)

He was about to leave when I stopped him.

“Young man?”

He screeched to a halt, complete with sound effects, and backed up. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Sunscreen? Towel? T-shirt?”

“Uh . . . do I really need that stuff?”

“Well, no,” Mom said nonchalantly, “but only if you don’t mind getting skin cancer. Or having sand inside your bathing suit in a terrible place. Didn’t I buy you a beach towel?”

“It’s nearly a hundred degrees!” I said. “You don’t want to fry yourself, do you? Sunburns hurt like the devil, remember?”

“Uh . . . be right back!”

He ran back inside, slamming the screen door.

“Don’t slam—” we called out, and before we could add “the door” he called out, “Sorry!”

Mom and I shook our heads with a smile.

“He seems to be having fun today,” Mom said.

“Yeah, he does. I was surprised to see him wearing that swimsuit. He’s usually so conservative.”

“All the boys wear them,” she said.

She was right. They did. The pattern of one boy’s bathing suit was wilder than the next.

He came back through the porch again, not slamming any doors, white traces of sunscreen all over his face and arms and a towel over his shoulder. I had a vision of what he would look like at sixteen, and my heart tightened for the briefest moment.

“I’ll probably be back in an hour,” he said.

“What station are you going to?” I said.

“Just Twenty-six.”

“Well, come home for lunch,” I said. “Have fun!”

“Look out for sharks and jellyfish!” Mom called out as Charlie disappeared over the dunes.

“Sharks and jellyfish. Great,” I said.

“Well, where else would they be? It is the ocean, you know.”

“It’s just one more thing to worry—”

“Jackie, sweetheart, listen to your old momma. I’ve done a lot of living, and I’ve learned a few things in my day.”

I was about to be on the receiving end of her wisdom, which would most likely prove useless, as it usually was. I don’t mean that to sound disrespectful, but my mother and I were two completely different people.

“Listen to me, here’s something to think about. You know how you can lie awake at night worrying about something that seems so terrible but then in the morning it seems like just about nothing?”

“Well, some of the time that’s true but not always.” She was right again.

“Well, holding in worriation is stupid. You staying up at night for no good reason. Sometimes if you just say the thing that’s got you all scared it’s not as bad as you thought it was. I mean, the telling of your troubles can lessen them. That’s why shrinks make so much money.”

“Boy, is that the truth. Look, beyond the obvious, that is to say my widowhood and my fatherless child, there’s the business of my commission with the army. I’m not reenlisting because I have to take care of Charlie. And even if I go back to work stateside again, who’s going to take care of him? Maureen? I mean, I can only impose on her so much.”

“You can impose on me,” she said quietly.

I caught my breath and actually gasped. “What do you mean? That I should move back
here
?”

“Why not?”

“Well, in the first place, Charlie would have to change schools, and he’s got his friends, you know?”

“Kids adapt.”

I was quiet. Kids were the most resilient members of the human race. But was I ready?

“Yeah, but then what would I do with myself?”

“Jackie, there are so many places that need good nurses right now that it’s not funny. What about the VA hospital? You could take care of wounded men and women coming home from Afghanistan.”

“Maybe.”

“Who would better understand their stories than someone who had been there and seen it all firsthand? Why not volunteer over there to check it out?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But, Mom? I just can’t see it. I mean, I can’t see my future right now. I can’t
see
me here. Remember when I was a little girl? I could always see the next steps coming. Like riding a train, going down the track from one station to the next. All I had to do was look out of the window and see the changes coming. Right now I can’t see anything.”

“It’s okay, hon. You just need some time.”

“Look, Mom, I know you always thought I was crazy to make some of the choices I made, and I might have been, but I always chose the future I could see. And now I can’t have it anymore. It’s all been taken away from me. What did I do to deserve to lose everything?”

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, “you didn’t lose everything.”

“I lost the love of my life,” I said, choking up, and a few traitorous tears slid down my cheek.

“Yes, and it probably won’t help to hear this at this particular moment, but you
had
the love of your life. Most people never do.”

She reached into her pocket and handed me a tissue. She always seemed to have a tissue when I needed one.

“Well, now I don’t know what to do,” I said and blew my nose. “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry anymore.”

“Oh, screw that, honey. That’s a dumb vow. I’m your momma, and you can cry with me anytime you feel like it. And you and Charlie are welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like.”

“At some point I have to enroll Charlie in school for the fall.”

“Jackie, try to trust the good Lord a little more. You know this yourself: one door has to close for another one to open. Maybe the good Lord really does have a plan for you.”

“Maybe. Maybe I should drive up to Daddy’s and see what he thinks.”

“Fine. That’s probably a good idea. You leave Charlie with me. He can go next time. And do a favor for me, will you?”

“Sure.”

“Ask Mr. Britt if he still considers himself to be married?”

“What? Oh, no! That’s not for me to ask! That’s your business!”

“Humph! That man,” she said and stood up. “Well, would you look out there?”

Over the low dunes she had spotted Charlie, building a sand castle that was already above his knees. Three other kids were watching from the sidelines until he waved them over. The next thing we knew, they were digging and adding height to his creation, and then they began to dig a moat all around it. As soon as the moat was finished, they dug a channel to the water’s edge, which, as soon as their digging met the water, filled with water over and over as the remains of each incoming wave trickled in. We stood there watching as they dripped bits of mud all over the castle, making it look like the melted wax that made its way down the side of a candle stuck in the neck of a Chianti bottle. Over and over they dripped handfuls of mud until it was all covered. They stuck a piece of tall grass into the top and attached shells to its sides. At last they stood back to admire their work. Then they all ran to the water to rinse away the sand.

“He’s having a wonderful time,” I said.

“Um-hum,” she said. “He sure is.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” I said.

“Really? Tell me what I’m thinking.”

“That he can’t do this in Brooklyn.”

“I never even had an inkling of such a thought,” she said, lying like a professional right through her rosy red lips. “Don’t you think he’s hungry by now? Should we make sandwiches for all of them?”

My mother had hit the first of many, many home runs.

The afternoon continued like that, with Charlie and his new friends devouring peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, juice boxes, and so many green grapes I knew I’d have to go to the store before supper. They ran up to the house to use the bathroom and then back to the beach, after giving Stanley and Stella a cursory scratch and a few words. His new friends were three siblings from Greenville, renting a house just two houses on the other side of ours. They seemed awfully nice, and for once I didn’t worry about who their parents were and what they did for a living. I didn’t have to because the youngest, a boy named Jojo, told us all we could ever want to know about his family. His momma was a history professor at Furman University and his daddy was a lawyer who specialized in bankruptcy law, which, according to Jojo, was quite lucrative these days.

“He’s rolling in it,” Jojo offered.

“Is that so?” I asked, watching him polish off the last cookie in the house.

“What’s he rolling in, hon?” Mom asked.

“Why, dough! Duh. What else do grown-ups roll in?”

I looked at my mother and she looked at me, and we knew it was probably best not to tell the little darling that grown-ups roll in lots of things.

For many reasons, I was so glad that Charlie had found some nice kids to play with for the afternoon. Between the dogs and the Greenville contingent, the mood was profoundly lighter. Before long, Dr. Steve’s hot little bachelor car was pulling up into his driveway. By that time Charlie was showered and reading a comic book and we had all assembled on the porch to welcome the close of what had turned out to be a steaming hot but perfectly lovely day.

“You’d probably better take Stella and Stanley home,” I said. “Dr. Steve is going to wonder where they are.”

“Aw, let the guy go through his mail, don’t you think?” Charlie said.

Go through his mail, indeed. Charlie didn’t feel like getting up. But before I could tell him to move it, there came Steve through the oleanders. He looked a little tired.

“He’s coming over,” I said. “Should I set up the bar?”

My mother leapt from her chair, almost taking flight to her dressing room. “What? Oh! I have to brush my hair! I must look awful! Where’s my lipstick? Quick! Jackie! Get a bottle of wine and some glasses!”

She was gone. I didn’t need another single sign to know my mother had feelings for Steve.

“Hi, Jackie,” Steve said, opening our screen door and stepping on to the porch, looking at me, wondering what I looked like naked. God, some men were so easy to read. But his look still caught me off guard. Mom liked Steve. Steve wondered about me. It gave me the creeps.

Sorry, but when I got to Murrells Inlet, I was telling my father. I didn’t want to start trouble, but my poor mother had been lonely long enough. If you asked me.

Chapter 8

. . . ascending the high grounds . . . Legrand led the way with decision; pausing only for an instant . . . to consult what appeared to be certain landmarks of his own contrivance upon a former occasion.

In this manner we journeyed for about two hours . . .

—Edgar Allan Poe, “The Gold-Bug”

Annie

I
t was early, I had just returned from my early beach walk with Deb, and I was grating a growing mountain of extra-sharp cheddar cheese into my biggest mixing bowl. The day was so still it could have been postapocalyptic. Even the bugs weren’t chirping, and honey, when the bugs quit chirping you’d better be looking for a piece of shade! We were in for a scorcher. Life didn’t sit so well with me when the thermometer climbed over ninety-five, especially when the humidity was high too. I could practically feel Spanish moss growing in between my toes. But Deb? Nothing seemed to ever bother Deb. You couldn’t do anything about the weather, she always said, so it was better to worry about other things. Maybe I should take a page out of her playbook.

I’ll tell you, that woman was just a bundle of energy, and she had such a positive outlook about everything. I mean, if my husband was as peculiar as hers I don’t know that I wouldn’t be lacing his oatmeal with little doses of arsenic. But Deb wouldn’t mash a bug. She was nothing but goodness through and through. Wait. My husband
was
peculiar. I mean, isn’t it peculiar enough to qualify as peculiar if you leave your wife of how many years without telling her if you’re ever coming back? All he does is send money and show up stag for disasters.

I imagine some women would envy my position. Some might even say it was a perfect marriage. There’s always cash in the bank, not a bottomless supply but enough to get along nicely. I don’t have to make dinner unless I feel like it. I don’t have to do his laundry. I don’t have to clean up his mess. No snoring. No freezer filled with nothing but fish and fish bait . . .

This internal litany of bonus points continued until I noticed that Jackie had come into the room.

“Oh! Morning! There’s coffee,” I said. “You feel like an omelet or French toast or what?”

“I’m good,” she said and took a mug from the cabinet. “I think I’m just going to have a bowl of cereal.”

She gave me a peck on the cheek, filled her mug, and went to the pantry to forage.

“There are bananas in the wire basket. Have one. It’s expected to hit a hundred degrees before noon. You need the potassium in hot weather. And don’t you roll your eyes at me. Bad girl.”

“Sorry. But how do you know I rolled my eyes? I’m facing the shelves.”

“Because I know you. Don’t you know when Charlie rolls his eyes? How’d you sleep?”

“You have enough food in here to feed us for a year. I slept like the proverbial dead. I don’t know what it is but when my head hits the pillow . . . must be the salt air.”

“Or the curative powers of being in your mother’s home? Hmmm? The Salty Dog?”