I cracked an egg into a metal bowl to start the pancake batter. Izzy clapped her hands and bounced around. She fed Jimmy lines for his song that he enthusiastically sang back to her as if she were Stephen Sondheim.
When Dr. Cone came down, I got up to make him a bird in the nest. “I like the new dishes,” I said.
“Ah. Yes.” Dr. Cone smiled. “Sheba and Bonnie picked them out. Mary Jane, has anyone told you about the beach house?”
“We’re going to the beach for a whole week. That’s seven days!” Izzy shouted.
“Oh yeah?” My body felt like it was an old, deflating party balloon. I had just spent a tortured weekend at home. What would I do for a week without the Cones and Jimmy and Sheba? How could I take seven full days with my mother?
“Yeah, we’re borrowing the Flemings’ house on Indian Dunes in Dewey Beach. It’s a big place, lots of bedrooms and bathrooms. Right on the ocean.”
“That so nice,” I pushed out the words.
“It’s a private stretch of beach too. And, you know, I don’t believe in the privatization of certain areas—everyone should enjoy the sand, the water, the dunes—and it’s better for us as people if we don’t attach to things.” Dr. Cone put down his fork, as if to rest for a minute. “But Jimmy and Sheba do need privacy, so I’ll accept the private beach in honor of them.”
“Jimmy can’t addict on a private beach. Right?” Izzy looked up at her dad.
Dr. Cone smiled at her, then leaned over and kissed her several times on her cheeks and forehead. “Right. And we can meditate there. Take long walks. Really incorporate some mind-and-body unity into the therapy.”
“That sounds perfect.” I blinked back my grief and started another bird in a nest.
As if on cue, Mrs. Cone came into the kitchen, wearing cutoff shorts and a tank top. “Mary Jane! Did you see the new dishes?”
“They’re lovely.” I could barely muster a smile. I put the bird in a nest on a new plate and slid it onto the table for Mrs. Cone, then started another batch.
“Oh, everyone’s favorite! Birds in a nest.” Mrs. Cone sat and started eating.
“Jimmy wrote a song called ‘Mary Jane.’” Izzy climbed over her father’s lap and nestled between her parents. Mrs. Cone kissed her all over her face, just as Dr. Cone had done.
Jimmy was singing softly, strumming out chords, picking out little rifts. Mrs. Cone stopped kissing Izzy and watched him closely. She looked like she wanted to kiss him the way she’d just kissed Izzy.
“Jimmy, do you want another one?” I asked.
“MARY JANE!” Jimmy sang. “’Cause one bird in a nest will never, ever, ever, ever do, Mary Jane makes a second one tooooooo. . . .”
I picked up Jimmy’s plate and refilled it. Sheba came into the kitchen wearing a red terry-cloth romper, white knee socks, and red tennis shoes. In her hair was a thick red elastic hairband. She looked like she’d popped out of a magazine. Or off a record cover. “Mary Jane, how was your weekend?” Without waiting for me to reply, she added, “Did you hear about the beach?”
“Yeah. You all will have so much fun.” I put the last bird in a nest on a plate for Sheba.
“Well, you’ll come, won’t you?” Sheba asked. Everyone looked at me.
“Oh,” I said. My shriveled-up heart started to inflate. “I didn’t know I was invited.”
“Of course you’re invited,” Dr. Cone said. “You’re part of the family now.”
I felt my eyes tear up, and quickly turned to the stove so no one could see. “Oh okay, yes, I’d love to come.” My mother’s face flashed in my mind and I felt slightly ill. Almost dizzy. What if she wouldn’t let me go?
“Mary Jane, I don’t want to go anywhere without you!” Izzy climbed off the banquette and hugged the backs of my legs. Her grip steadied me. My mother vanished from my thoughts.
Later that day, when Izzy and I were home from Eddie’s, I braced myself to call my mother and ask about the beach.
“I’d like to speak with Dr. Cone about this.” My mother’s voice was sharp. I could tell she wanted to say no but couldn’t come up with a logical reason.
“He’s working. Can I pass on a question?”
“I’m concerned about his wife being sick and your having full responsibility for a child near water.”
“We’ve gone to the Roland Park Pool many times.”