Sarah
From the moment she’d arrived on the Cape, Sarah had tried to keep busy. If she was constantly in motion, occupied with important, wedding-related tasks, her mom couldn’t engage her in the conversation she was dreading: How’s that new studio working out? How are things with Eli? And by the way, how’s your marriage these days? She’d unpacked all her clothes, hanging the light blue linen dress she’d bought for the wedding only after making sure she’d removed all the price tags. She’d cut off the conversation on the pool deck with her brother and her mom as quickly as she could, feeling almost weak with relief at the sound of Eli’s arrival. Maybe her mom thought that she wanted to avoid Eli, or maybe she thought Sarah just needed some time to take in the news that the house was going on the market. Ronnie could think whatever she wanted, as long as she wasn’t there, asking Sarah questions that Sarah didn’t want to answer.
So she’d fled. She’d gone to the liquor store for wine and champagne, and then on to the grocery store for toilet paper, for fruit and cheese and crackers. She lingered in the aisles, inspecting poison-ivy remedies and frozen dinners, staring at Owen’s texts. I’m here waiting. Let me know if you’ve got any time. He’d sent a picture—a thirst trap, Sarah was pretty sure the kids would call it—a shot of his legs, in board shorts, as he sat on a towel in front of the sun-dappled pond.
Part of her thought, I can’t. Another part thought, I could. She could make up some excuse, invent some errand, even simply tell the truth: I’m going to the pond for a swim. The boys would be happy to stay home with Sam and with Connor, and with Ari doing his Fun Uncle shtick. No one would miss her. Eli certainly wouldn’t. She’d typed, and erased, a half-dozen responses to Owen before finally deciding to go home, to be a good daughter, a good stepmother, a good wife. At least for now.
Back at the house Sarah had set the table and washed the dishes and swept the kitchen floor. After the lobster Cobb salad had been decimated, she’d volunteered to put the boys to bed, but when Sam said, “I got it,” she had gone out on the deck, to listen to the ocean and let the evening breeze cool her cheeks. Less than a minute later, she heard the door slide open behind her, and knew that the moment of reckoning had arrived.
“How are you?” Ronnie asked, and touched Sarah’s arm. “Everything okay?”
Sarah kept her face expressionless, cursing her mother’s empathy. “I’m fine.”
Ronnie leaned on the railing, mimicking Sarah’s posture. “This is all making me think about your wedding,” Ronnie said. “I couldn’t believe you were old enough to be someone’s wife! I could still remember you and Sam playing on the beach. Remember how you used to tell Sam he had to pay you a toll to get up the stairs?”
Sarah nodded. The toll is three hermit crabs, she’d announce imperiously, or You have to pay me six slipper shells, and poor Sam would grab a bucket and run back down the stairs to collect them.
“Your father was a wreck,” her mother said. “He was so worried he’d start crying under the chuppah and that he wouldn’t be able to stop. How’s Eli doing?”
“Eli’s fine.” Sarah heard how angry she sounded. In truth, she had no idea how Eli was handling things, because Eli had stopped talking to her… and, ever since her night with Owen, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to care. She ordered the groceries, she went to work, she picked up Ruby’s wedding gown, and made calls to triple-check on the flowers, and all the while her body was tingling and her mind was preoccupied, full of blissful thoughts of Owen Lassiter. She barely ate; hardly slept. She felt like a teenage girl with a crush… because, of course, she’d been a teenage girl with a crush the first time she’d fallen for Owen.
“And you’re okay?” her mother asked.
“I’m fine,” Sarah said, before deciding to give her mother a small piece of truth. “Honestly, I guess I was a little hurt that Ruby told you about the wedding before she told me. I know you guys are close, and I think it’s great, but…” She shook her head, ashamed at herself for being petty, for finding her mother’s happiness a threat to her own. “I’m probably being stupid.”
“No, I get it,” said her mom. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I wish I’d told you as soon as she’d told me.” Sarah looked at her mother, surprised by how shrunken she seemed, how fine her hair looked. She’d only seen her mother for a week the previous summer, and only after they’d all been tested for COVID and quarantined two weeks in advance, and then another two weeks after they’d come home. In less than a year, Ronnie had lost weight, and, Sarah thought, height, too. There were new pigmented spots on her face, new bags beneath her eyes, and Sarah could see, clearly, the shape of her skull through her hair.