Undertow (18 page)

I somehow get home, leaden with a sadness so heavy and pervasive I can barely move.

CHAPTER 35

I wake, I remember. And then I am flooded by guilt, and by hopelessness. There is a sense that I’ve made a fatal error, though the world looks unchanged when I open my eyes. I am still going to Michigan in the fall. I still am not with Nate, nor will I ever be. Nothing has changed, so why does it feel as if there is no point in getting out of bed at all, not now, not ever?

I know I will have to break up with Ethan — Heather and Kendall probably saw me leave with Nate, or took an educated guess as to our sudden disappearance; even if they didn’t, I can’t go through my life feeling like I’m harboring a secret that might blow up in my face. But I also can’t tarnish Elise’s wedding with all the distress and drama our breakup will create. Which means I will have to spend the next week pretending I’ve done nothing wrong while barely able to look Ethan in the eye.

When Heather calls I consider not answering, and then change my mind. If I’m going to need her to keep her mouth shut for a week, she’d better know it sooner rather than later.

“Hey,” I say cautiously.

“Hey,” she says, slowly, expectantly. I assume she’s waiting for me to confess, but I say nothing. “You left early.”

“It was just kind of a bad night.” If she knows I wish she’d just say so.

“I saw Nate later but he didn’t know where you were.”

“Was he with a girl?” I ask.

She laughs. “He’s always with a girl.” I want to fold in on myself, as if I’ve been stabbed. Not even for one night was I enough for him.

“Things got a little crazy at the party,” she tells me.

I’m barely listening. I can’t believe he was with someone else so soon after me.

“I’m just going to come out and say it,” she says, and my heart starts beating harder. “Kendall got super drunk and I think she…she left with Jordan.”

I groan.

“You can’t tell them I told you,” she warns.

Poor Mia. I never thought, when he married her, that I’d feel like this – like she was the one who got a raw deal, who’d married down. But now I do. Some people peak when they’re older – they pull together a career and a family and build it all into something strong and beautiful. But Jordan is not one of those people. Jordan peaked in high school, or maybe college, when he was popular and good-looking and everyone wanted him. I’d always assumed that life was a race that he just had a huge head start on. But now I see he was just farther along on a much shorter track. He will spend his entire life trying to get back to being the person who was ahead, who was best, not realizing that the minute you start looking backward you’ve lost the race entirely.

I can’t face anyone. Not Nate, not Jordan, not my friends. I stay in bed. It’s so unusual that by 10 a.m. my grandmother has come to check on me. “If you throw up in that bed you’ll be washing the sheets yourself,” she snaps.

I have an entire day to think about what has happened, to imagine Nate going off with some other girl last night as soon as he’d finished with me. I still feel stunned by his behavior, as if it’s not possible that he could have turned so callous, yet I’ve got nothing but proof that he has.

And I also have an entire day to let the guilt I feel about Ethan ratchet up. When he calls that night I can barely stand to answer the phone. “Are you okay?” he asks gently.

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Just a little under the weather.”

“I’m sorry baby. I wish I was there,” he says.

Every word out of his mouth increases my sorrow. He’s a good guy, and he’s been nothing but decent to me. He wants to give me everything, but I withhold myself from him. Everything he wants is what I only want to give to Nate, Nate who wants none of it.

My relief that he doesn’t know is short-lived. He calls back 30 minutes after we hang up, something he’s never done before.

“I’m in the car,” he says. “I’m on my way down there.”

“Why?” I croak out.

He hesitates, and when he speaks he sounds like he’s on the verge of breaking down. “It’s my dad,” he says. “He’s just been arrested.”

**

The next morning I’m in the courthouse with him, waiting for his father’s bail bond hearing. He holds my hand tightly. “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper.

He gives me a slight, sad smile. “I know. I’m really glad you’re here though.” I want to shake myself.
How
could I have cheated on him? And
why
?

When Mr. Mayhew’s case is called before the judge, the excitement in the courtroom grows palpable. There’s a small commotion in the back of the room when the DA walks in. I turn toward it to see Peter Folz standing against the wall, and beside him, of all people, Nate. Our eyes lock for one horrible moment, neither of us able to turn away fast enough. That he doesn’t want me, that he will never be mine, feels like a death. I will mourn this for years, all the while forced to pretend I mourn nothing at all. No matter what I told myself, there must have been a part of me that hoped we might work. To have that hope obliterated feels like too much to stand.

I turn back toward the judge quickly, stunned by the sense of loss I feel. It’s wrong, under these circumstances, that I’m looking to Ethan for comfort, but I press his hand anyway, let the warmth of his arm seep into mine.

Mr. Mayhew comes over to us after bond is set, hugging his wife, and then Ethan and me in turn. I stand with them as if we are a family. Except I’ve cheated on one of them and gotten the other one arrested. Everything I’ve done is wrong, and everything I’m still doing is wrong, and I’m not sure when it will stop.

Ethan spends most of the day with his father and his father’s attorney, but he comes over at sundown before he heads back to Charlotte. We sit on the front porch and I lean against him.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He nods. “I think we’ll be able to fix this.” I’d like to know what he means by ‘fix’, but I don’t ask. I’ve done enough damage. “How are
you
?” he asks.

“Me? I’m fine. Why?”

“Jordan said you knew about him and Jackie,” he says. “He thought I was the one who told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” I ask.

“He swore me to secrecy, Maura. What was I supposed to do?”

“So I guess you know about him and Kendall too?” I ask, not hiding my scorn.

“Yes,” he sighs. “I tell him the same thing every time and he never listens.”

“What do you tell him?”

“I tell him to pull his head out of his ass and go home and try to be a decent husband for once.”

My eyes are damp, because I know Ethan wouldn’t cheat. He’s a decent person, and a loyal one. He’s not the type to fuck me on the beach and walk away. He is so, so good, and he deserves so much better than me. It makes me want to turn over a new leaf, to stop fighting the tide every step of the way and grow into someone who is worthy of him. I’ve tried taking the illogical, reckless course and I saw firsthand how that turned out. Perhaps it’s time I began making decisions based on reason rather than emotion. I squeeze his hand and resolve that, if at all possible, I’ll make this up to him somehow.

CHAPTER 36

I stay in all week. I cannot stomach seeing Nate with the long line of girls at Oak who wait for their turn with him. I can either get back in line or I can watch the other girls take my place, and I won’t do either.

I’m going to make this up to Ethan, all of it. And the first step, the most important step, is to avoid Nate.

I pack everything. There’s no reason to come back here after the wedding, and a thousand reasons not to. The Mayhews take my bags since they won’t fit in Heather’s car.

On Friday morning I go downstairs to say goodbye to my grandmother, who dismisses me as if I’m someone she barely knows. It doesn’t sadden me so much as it does simply confirm what I’d already guessed – to her I’m nothing more than a piece on a chess board, something she’s only pleased with when I’ve been moved into the right position.

I walk into the side yard then, the wet grass beneath my bare feet reminding me of all the mornings I met Nate here as a girl. The insistent buzz of the cicadas, the sun warm on my back, the heat-pressed smell of honeysuckle – suddenly so redolent of childhood that when I finally look at the carriage house I am blinded by tears. I’ll return here but this – childhood, contentment, Nate – is never coming back.

Heather and Kendall are bouncing with excitement for the weekend — Kendall clearly unaware that I know about her and Jordan. I do my best to feign happiness, but the truth is this weekend will be a trial from start to finish. The rehearsal tonight, the wedding tomorrow, the brunch on Sunday — it will be me, Ethan and Nate every step of the way. I lean against the headrest and tell myself that if I can just live through this one weekend, everything will turn out all right.

**

My dress for the rehearsal is a simple sheath in kelly green. I blow my hair out straight, put on the makeup I don’t usually have time for. I’m doing this because I’m supposed to, but I can’t say it has nothing to do with Nate either. Tonight and tomorrow are it, the last times I will see him for many years. And if I do see him again, I’ll likely have my own children in tow, and so will he. The thought creates a pain so real that I lay my hand over my heart as if I can stop it.

I want him to remember me like this, the polished woman in the green dress, and not like the pathetic girl he left crying on the beach. Maybe someday he’ll look at pictures of the rehearsal dinner or the wedding and, just for a moment, he’ll regret what he did.

“Very nice,” clucks my mother. Her approval, so rare, should mean more to me than it does. Maybe she and my father and grandmother were right – Nate hardly seems to be the stellar human being I once thought he was. But it doesn’t change the loathing I feel for her right now.

Ethan drives me to the church.

“You seem tense,” he says, reaching over to grab my hand.

Tense is hardly the word for it. I’m wound so tight right now that it feels like I can barely breathe. I have no idea what I will find when I get there – if Nate will act like we’re friends and nothing has happened, or if he’ll treat me like the one-night stand he can’t get away from fast enough.

Outside the church, the bridesmaids and groomsmen are gathered into two small clusters. I train my eyes on the girls, standing around a wedding coordinator who is doling out instructions as if this is the Battle of Normandy. Her face falls just a little as Elise introduces me. “You’re very tall,” she says, almost accusingly. Her eyes flash to the groomsmen, standing together a few feet away. “Thank God one of them is too.”

I don’t have to look over to know who she means. And I shouldn’t look over, but I can’t seem to help myself, can’t control my start of surprise when I find he is already looking at me. His head turns quickly, but not before I see what was in his face. Not disdain, not regret, but grief.

The coordinator pairs us up, two by two, until she eventually gets to Nate and I. He stands stiffly beside me, saying nothing, while I try to find an explanation for the look on his face. Does he feel guilty? Does he regret leaving, or does he just regret sleeping with me in the first place?

We link arms and begin our walk down the aisle, silent and awkward under Ethan’s watchful eye. But just as we reach the altar, just as he prepares to drop my arm and move off to the right, he speaks – so quietly I barely hear him.

“This should have been us,” he says. My steps falter as he sends me off to Elise’s side, numb with shock.

Through the rehearsal, through the dinner, I think of nothing else.

Why is he doing this to me?
I ask it again and again, my fury ratcheting up each time, never finding an answer. He left me crying on the beach and moved on to another girl. It’s too late for him to be remorseful, if that’s what this is.

But behind my fury is pain, so sharp I can barely move around it. Because more than anything, I just wish he’d meant what he said.

CHAPTER 37

Even inside the dressing room, the heat is unbearable. My anxiety is unbearable. I tug at my bridesmaid’s gown – strapless, fitted red satin — knowing I’ll earn another dirty look from Mrs. McDonald. She’s mad that I skipped the final dress fitting, and I guess for once she was right.

On the outside, I am buffed and polished, as perfect as I will ever be. On the inside, I am raw and torn by what Nate said the night before. I help attach the train to Elise’s dress, relieved to have a thousand tiny pearl buttons demanding my attention.

At least Elise is calm.

“Only you could be this relaxed on your wedding day,” her older sister teases.

“Why would I worry?” she asks. “What’s done is done.” Everyone seems to think this is a happy sentiment, but I’m not sure it is.

**

We stand in the foyer as the groomsmen make their way back to us. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as Nate in this moment, in his tux. A sob wells up in my throat. This is the last day he and I will walk down an aisle together. He catches me staring, and today he doesn’t look away.

The coordinator sends Elise’s younger sister down the aisle, and Nate comes to stand beside me. Her cousins go next, and then the coordinator nods at us. He glances at me, his face strained and serious, and offers his arm. Despite all my best intentions I can feel myself clinging to him, as we wait, as we walk, as we part at the altar.

All through the ceremony, and following it, there is no sign of Elise’s regrets. She is beautiful and flushed and impossibly happy when they turn back toward their guests as husband and wife. It seems possible, watching her today, that she might wind up happy in spite of her compromises.

Nate takes my arm for the last time. We make the walk, but we slow as we reach the end, coming to a stop at the moment we should part, neither of us moving or letting go. I am frozen, unable to take the step away from him I should. I see the wedding coordinator come rushing toward us. We have only seconds left.

“You were right,” I tell him.

“About what?” he asks.

“It should have been us,” I reply.

The wedding coordinator grabs my arm but he stands immobile, looking shaken and lost. As she pulls me into the dressing room I take one last glance back at him, and he remains exactly where he was, still watching me go.

**

“You were stunning up there,” gushes Ethan as he drives to the club. He’s oddly keyed up tonight, a stark contrast to my own leaden grief. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride that’s stood at that altar in two centuries.” I squirm but I don’t correct him. I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m going to be worthy of him. I’m going to stop fighting it.

Once we are seated and wine has been poured, the toasts begin. Elise’s dad talks about how proud he is of them. He tells us that Brian went to USC, that he’s the youngest vice president in his company, that there is no limit to the wonderful things he will do. And then he tells us all about Elise’s beauty and her kindness and her infectious laugh, the way she used to wear her Cinderella costume to the grocery store and how good she is with children. He never mentions her degree or how she won our high school mathematics competition two years in a row, or anything else that attests to her intellect and her ambition. I suppose because Mr. McDonald, like everyone else in this room, knows that those things are no longer relevant. Ethan shifts restlessly beside me as the toast continues, his fingers nervously drumming against his leg.

Sarah, Elise’s older sister and maid of honor, offers the next toast, giggling as she recounts the time they cut off all of Elise’s hair and other stories that remind us they were once silly and carefree. Brian’s younger brother delivers his best man speech, and it is every bit as clichéd and awkward as you’d expect of a 19-year-old. I’m relieved for him when he finishes.

And then Nate stands.

I feel Ethan tensing up beside me, and I have to will myself not to clutch his hand.

I stare at Nate. It’s the first time all weekend that I can do it with impunity, and though I shouldn’t allow myself to be so weak, I can’t seem to stop. I wish I could absorb him, memorize him, and the fact that I can’t makes me that much more desperate to do it.

He talks about Brian at 16, telling him he thought Elise was pretty but stuck-up. And at 17, when he suddenly became incapable of talking about anything but her. He talks about the time they broke up in college and how Brian ate three boxes of Captain Crunch over the course of six hours that day.

He addresses Brian. “You were apart for a long time. I’ve seen the two of you fight, and complain, and disagree, and even break up, but it’s never worried me. Because Elise is the person you were born to be with. And I really believe that once you’ve found that person,” he says, turning from Brian to lock his gaze onto me, fierce and unapologetic, “then no matter how many times you’re separated, you’ll find each other again and again.”

The room breaks into applause, a rush of noise I barely notice as Nate holds my eye, as I stare back, unable to look away.

Ethan’s hand grips mine hard as goose bumps break out across my arms. “What the fuck was that?” he hisses.

I barely hear him. I don’t know what it was. I don’t understand how Nate can look at me like that, say the things he’s said, after what happened.

“It’s time he learned once and for all you’re not his girlfriend anymore,” says Ethan.

His words drag my eyes from Nate. “What?” I ask distractedly, but I am too late. He is already jumping to his feet. “Ethan,” I whisper anxiously, tugging on his jacket to make him sit. “What are you doing?”

He ignores me, tapping a spoon against his champagne flute to get everyone’s attention. The room falls silent quickly. “I don’t want to take anything away from Brian and Elise’s night, but let’s face it,” he says, grinning at their table “you just have to look over there to know that nothing can take away from this night for them.” The crowd chuckles, but I don’t. Because this doesn’t sound like the beginning of a toast, and I know exactly what it
does
sound like.
No, no, no, no, no
, I intone desperately to myself.
He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t.

“Brian found his perfect match seven years ago. I found mine then too, although she wasn’t aware of it,” he says, turning to me. The room becomes impossibly still, as if all of the real, breathing humans have been replaced by wax figures. My racing pulse is the only thing in this room that’s still moving.

“It’s been a long wait. And I’m standing here now, in front of all of the people that she and I love, to say that I don’t want to wait another day for her to be my wife.” I don’t look at Ethan. I look at Nate, and I see my panic reflected there as he returns my gaze. Suddenly all of this feels like a game of pretend gone horribly awry. I don’t know how I’ve allowed it to get this far.

Ethan drops to his knee, placing a box in a hand I can’t even feel, his face proud and assured and hopeful. “Maura Leigh Pierce, will you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife?”

The room begins to lose its stillness then as women sniffle and someone claps — as if I’ve already said yes. Perhaps because they’re just as aware as I am that Ethan has created a situation in which it is impossible to say no. I can’t embarrass him, embarrass my family, in front of all these people. I can’t ruin Elise’s wedding. I see my parents and Ethan’s parents beaming, both of our mothers’ faces shiny with tears, and know the choice has been made. I didn’t want it this soon, but I guess we all knew it would happen eventually.

I take one last, pleading look at Nate. To tell him goodbye. To tell him I’m sorry. In spite of the way he treated me, I’m asking him to forgive me for what I’m about to do.

He is pale and drawn, bracing for pain, as if he’s going into a battle he knows he won’t come home from. My sweet boy, the one I loved for my entire life. The one I still love. His face is stoic, but he is breaking apart in front of my eyes.

I stand and place the box on the table. No matter what he’s done to me, he’s the one person in this room I refuse to hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, before I flee from the tent, into the darkness.