“I love Mom, I love Dad, I love Mary Jane, I love Sheba, I love Jimmy.” Izzy leaned off my hip and put her finger on the photo. On Jimmy’s heart.
“I love you.” I put my finger on top of Izzy’s. Then I picked up the two photos and carried them into the bedroom with Izzy. I dropped Izzy on the bed and then propped the picture of her with the horseshoe crab centerpiece against the lamp base on her bedside table. The other photo I placed on the lamp base of my bedside table. Later I’d ask Dr. Cone if I could keep it.
I was in the middle of the moment, the picture had been taken less than an hour ago, and already I felt the loss of time, the loss of this summer, the loss of this makeshift family. I supposed it was preemptive nostalgia, inoculating me for what was to come. Would Izzy forget me? Would Dr. and Mrs. Cone remind her of the summer she spent with me? Would Sheba and Jimmy remember this the way I would? Was this summer changing their lives the way it was changing mine?
Izzy fell asleep as I was reading to her. I slipped out of her bed, shut the door behind me, and followed the smoke to the living room. Though I felt tremulous about family therapy this evening, I also wanted it to happen soon, just so I could stop wondering and worrying about how Sheba might react and how Jimmy would respond to Sheba’s reaction. My heart hurt for Sheba. And it hurt for Jimmy, too, even though I knew this was his fault.
Dr. Cone clapped his hands when he saw me. “Mary Jane!”
“Hey.” I awkwardly lifted my hand and waved. I hadn’t been this nervous since the first day I’d met Sheba and Jimmy.
Dr. Cone stood. “Shall we do this in the Office?”
“Let’s do it.” Jimmy stood and stretched. His shirt lifted, revealing the downy hair on his belly.
“The beach? That Office?” I asked, though of course I knew the answer.
“Yeah, it’s really been a good place to open up, Mary Jane. The sound of the waves, the smell of the sea air—it brings you down to the basics. It reminds us that we’re alive, just another part of the physical world.”
“Baby!” Sheba hugged me. “Is this your first time in therapy?”
“Uh. Yeah.” I hadn’t really thought of it in those terms. That I was going to be in therapy.
“I’m bringing some wine.” Mrs. Cone held a bottle against her chest like a baby.
“What about Izzy?” I asked.
“She’s too young for this.” Dr. Cone shook his head. “But soon.”
“No, I mean, what about leaving her alone in the house? What if she wakes up and no one’s here?”
“Has she ever woken up since we’ve been here?” Mrs. Cone lifted the bottle and took a sip.
“No, but what if she does? Won’t she be scared to find no one home?”
“We’ll leave the doors to the beach open so she knows where to go.” Dr. Cone waved his arm as if to indicate the flow of air, the flow of Izzy.
“Mary Jane, Mary Jane!” Jimmy sang, and he walked out the door. Mrs. Cone followed him, the bottle of wine dangling from one hand.
Dr. Cone opened the door to the screened porch and pushed a wicker chair against it so it would stay open. Then he opened the screen door to the beach, and put another wicker chair there. “That should work.” He nodded to the side, meaning I should go out.
“Okay. But wait.” I wasn’t sure if I was really this nervous about leaving Izzy alone or if I was avoiding the pending family therapy. “Are there any animals that might enter the house and attack Izzy?”
“Mary Jane.” Sheba spoke firmly. “Take my hand. You’re coming with me.”
“Izzy will be fine.” Dr. Cone smiled at me. “No beach animals will enter the house and attack her. But I do appreciate your concern. You’ll make an excellent mother one day.”
Sheba pulled me out of the house. The moon was up and stars were scattered across the sky like spilled milk. It was light enough to see our bare feet as we walked through the dunes to the spot where Jimmy and Mrs. Cone waited. They were on the sheet, lying on their sides, facing each other. The bottle of wine leaned against Mrs. Cone’s breasts.
I sat cross-legged at Mrs. Cone’s feet. Jimmy sat up and crossed his legs and then Mrs. Cone sat up and tucked her legs behind her. Sheba hiked up her dress all the way to her pink underpants and then sat cross-legged next to Jimmy. Mrs. Cone swiveled around and pulled up her dress so that she, too, was sitting cross-legged. Dr. Cone sat between Sheba and Mrs. Cone.
Mrs. Cone took another sip from the bottle. Dr. Cone shot her a quick look. Usually the drinking of wine was more discreet.