Nell (28 page)

“Then all of a sudden one day I came home from work and there was a big box. Inside was a teddy bear, with a note taped to the bow. The note said, ‘I am the world’s biggest asshole. Please forgive me. I really want to see you. I really need to see you. Love, Bob.’ ”

Clary stopped awhile and smiled a bit. “Well, I thought about it, but of course I’m so much in love with him, I knew immediately what I would do. But I didn’t call him that night. I waited. I was cool. Finally he called me. He came over, and we talked and talked.
I didn’t go to bed with him again right away. I wanted to, I always want to go to bed with him. But I didn’t. I guess I was still confused. Scared. But he really did come after me then. I mean he sent me flowers and called me on the phone and wrote me letters and said all this nice stuff about how he loved me and needed me and he’d never do that again and he had just needed to be crazy and young for once in his life …”

“That’s pretty crazy and young, all right,” Nell said.

Clary looked at Nell and instantly her eyes flashed in defense of Bob. She did not want Nell to criticize this man whom she loved, no matter how he acted. “Well, Nell,” she said. “I can kind of understand it. I mean, his family is super poor. He had to work like a maniac all his life. He was a scholarship student at college. He’s never had the time or opportunity to play around. He’s just worked and worked all his life. I’ve read psychology books, and I’ve come to understand—it’s hard to be a man. It’s hard to know you’ve got to work all your life and support a family. Even if women are supposed to be equal now, the man still feels he’s got to be the one, bottom line, who supports his family. That’s hard to face.

“So I guess I can understand why he had that fit of playing around. Anyway, we’re way past that now. I know he hasn’t been with anyone else since last November. It’s been
so good
for six months now. It’s been perfect. We’ve been so close.

“Oh, Nell, I can understand why he’s scared of marriage. I’m scared of marriage, too. Look at Mom and Dad; they’re divorced. God, look at
you;
you’re divorced. I know marriage doesn’t mean security. It doesn’t mean we’ll love each other to the grave and beyond. God, marriage doesn’t mean much at all. But it does mean something, a little
something
.”

Clary finished her beer. “Well,” she said, smiling ruefully at Nell. “What do you think?”

Nell smiled back. “What do I think? I think I’m hungry, for one thing,” she said. “And you’ve got to be hungry, too. And things will look better when you’ve got some food in your stomach.”

“God, Nell you sound just like a mother,” Clary said.

“I
am
a mother,” Nell said. “Come on. I’ll take you out to a nice restaurant tonight. After tonight we’re going to have to be frugal and eat beans and boiled
newspapers at home, but tonight I’ll splurge. After all, it’s the beginning of your summer here, Clary, and I really do think you’ll have a good time.” Nell grinned. “We’ll go to the Atlantic Café. That ought to cheer you up.”

When they got to the Atlantic Café around eight, they found it already packed with families, couples and, at the bar, an amazing lineup of what Elizabeth succinctly termed “trust-fund scallopers.” At least thirty men were gathered around the bar, drinking and talking; they were handsome, rugged men who obviously worked outdoors and liked it. Nell smiled to see them: Stellios would blend right into this crowd. For one brief moment Nell missed Stellios, wished he were there, wished she could lean against his easy body. But she had broken off with him last month, before coming to Nantucket the second time and sleeping with Andy. Oh, how could she be thinking of Stellios! She did not want him. She wanted Andy. It was just that these guys with their jeans and T-shirts and work boots and muscles made her think of him.

As they walked past the bar to a booth in the back, Nell whispered to Clary, “Now you see, this isn’t a bad antidote, is it? A lot of handsome men there.”

“A lot of men with herpes there, I’d imagine, Nell,” Clary said, her voice and look skeptical.

They ordered pig-out food, feel-better food: cheese and jalapeno pepper nachos, chicken fingers, zucchini fingers, beer. As they ate, dipping into the greasy rich food and licking their fingers, they talked some more. Nell told Clary about Andy, but kept it light while she talked. She didn’t want to admit to Clary how excited she was about this man, how
hopeful
she had so quickly become. Clary listened with interest and drank. She drank two beers for every one of Nell’s.

When all the food had been eaten, Clary leaned back in the booth and sighed. She had cheered up a little, Nell thought. At least she wasn’t crying.

“You know what?” Clary said. “You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to get rich. I’ve got this plan. I’m going to sell rats.”

“You’re going to sell rats,” Nell echoed, thinking: Oh God, she’s gotten drunk.

“Yep,” Clary said. “I’m going to sell rats. I’m going to market them as the new pet for the modern age.”

“Well, Clary,” Nell began.

“Now listen to me a minute,” Clary said. “I’ve got it all worked out. I’ll tell you why. Rats are special, you want to know why? Not just because they’re intelligent and affectionate and cute. It’s more than that—guess
what
?”

Nell stared at Clary. She is drunk, Nell thought, and an old slightly maternal wave of concern passed through her. “I can’t possibly guess,” she said.

“Rats only live for two years,” Clary said. “Two years. That’s it. So you see they’ll be the perfect pet for the modern couple. You fall in love, you move in with someone, you get a pet rat. Then at the end of two years, when you and your lover break up, you don’t have to worry about hassling over who gets to keep the rat. You don’t have to worry about rat support or rat visitation or the rat’s emotional trauma from the breakup. You don’t have to stay together for the sake of the rat. ’Cause the rat dies.”

“Clary,” Nell said, “let’s go home. Let’s go home and get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”

“Nell,” Clary said, and tears were beginning to streak down her face again. “Nell, I’m so miserable. I want to die. I told Bob I never want to see him again. Oh, Nell, why does it have to be so hard between men and women?”

Nell sat there peeling the label off her beer bottle, knowing she should say something wise right now. But what wisdom could she possibly offer on the subject of men and women? She was divorced from Clary’s father. She had spent five years of her life being lonely and dating men who were not right. She certainly had never found it easy between men and women. Now that she had met a man who was grown-up enough to take seriously, a man she thought she could honestly love, who could honestly love her back, she was too afraid and just too experienced to even enjoy the luxury of hoping it might last. But then, Nell thought, it wasn’t fair to apply her life’s experiences to Clary’s.

“Clary,” she said at last, “you are so young. And you are so beautiful, so wonderful. You really are special. I don’t know about Bob; he’s certainly handsome and well mannered, but I didn’t get to talk to him enough to get a sense of what kind of person he is. All I can say is that if he really loves you, he’ll come back for you, even though you’ve sent him away. Sometimes these fights and separations are necessary. You know,” Nell went on, seeing that Clary had at least stopped crying, “I guess I really believe that falling in love can be as natural as having babies. It’s the way the world goes
on. Now when I was pregnant with Hannah and Jeremy, I had terrible morning sickness. God, I was sick. I was
miserable
. And I remember an old nurse in the doctor’s office telling me that that was a good thing: it’s a good sign, she said. The worse the morning sickness, the stronger hold the baby is taking in the womb. Maybe that’s not a good analogy, but maybe it is. It’s natural to have babies, it’s natural to fall in love. And maybe you and Bob have to go through this really terrible time so your love can take a good hold. Do you see what I mean? Am I making any sense?”

“No,” Clary said, smiling. “I think what you’re saying is ridiculous. I think it’s the most foolish and untenable analogy I’ve ever heard. But you make me feel better.”

“Look, Clary, I don’t know what’s going to happen with you and Bob. It may be that he really is too frightened of marriage to marry you even though he loves you with all his heart. That is one definite possibility. Maybe that’s the possibility you have to live with. If so, at least you know you’re young—”

“I’m
twenty-six
, Nell.”

“—you’re
young
, Clary, and you’re lovely, and you’re bound to meet other men while you’re here in Nantucket. I think you could have a wonderful summer here.”

Clary didn’t look convinced, but she was grateful for Nell’s conviction. After they talked some more, they went back to the cottage. Clary went to bed in the room Nell had given her for the summer, and Nell sat in the kitchen and talked to Andy on the phone. She told him about Clary and Bob, hoping in the back of her mind that this might open up an avenue of exploration into Andy’s personal life. Andy did not speak much about his married life. Nell knew only that he had been married, that he had a sixteen-year-old daughter who was in prep school in Connecticut and whom he seldom saw, that his wife had not remarried, that she didn’t work, but traveled a lot and loved the arts. He had not told Nell whether or not he had loved his wife or loved her still. He had not told her any of the intimate things she was curious about, and this night as they spoke on the phone, he was still reserved. He said only that he was sure Clary and Bob would work it out somehow, but he had nothing to say one way or the other about love or marriage or men and women. He did say that he missed seeing Nell and wished he were with her, and she invited him to dinner to meet Clary the next evening. He said he’d come, but Nell hung up the phone feeling slightly depressed.

Still, the next evening, when he came to dinner, bearing flowers for the table and a bottle of excellent wine, Nell felt a bright, irrepressible light of hope spark right up inside her at the sight of him. When their eyes met, he smiled and she saw how happy she made him. They had one of Nell’s easy dinners of lamb stew and corn bread and salad, and Andy was charming to Clary. He complimented her and made her laugh and did not throw her with blunt questions. He asked intelligent questions about her lab work with rats. Occasionally, as the three of them sat at the table, even though the main current of conversation was between Andy and Clary, Andy would make a point of drawing Nell in. Nell was pleased. She could tell he was trying to please her, to show just the right amount of interest in her ex-stepdaughter, this beautiful dark-eyed blonde, but not too much.

Later they all sat in the living room drinking coffee and eating fruit. Andy sat on the sofa next to Nell and stretched his long arm across the back so that he could softly stroke her neck just up under her hair. It was a soothing and sensual thing for him to do. Nell felt at peace sitting there with him, being touched by him. Then, when it was almost ten, Andy said to Nell, “Listen, can you come over to my house for a while? I want to show you those photographs.”

Nell stared at him. “Photographs?”

Andy grinned at her, looked at her right in the eye. “
You know
,” he said, “those photographs I wanted your opinion on.” His grin grew mischievous.

“Oh,” Nell said. “
Those
photographs. Sure. Clary, I’m going to be gone for a while, but I’ll be back later. Shall I wake you in the morning when I get ready to go off to work?”

“Yeah,” Clary said. “I’ve really got to find a job. I guess I’ll unpack and go to bed.”

Andy and Nell left the cottage and drove to his house. As soon as they were inside the door, he pulled her against him and began to kiss her. Nell wrapped her arms around his neck. “I thought this was what you had in mind,” she said. When he brought her home hours later, she climbed the stairs, took off her clothes, and fell into bed without even brushing her teeth.

Clary found a job in a jewelry store on Main Street. She was to work six days a week,
including Sundays, from three in the afternoon until nine at night. That gave her the morning and part of the afternoon to go to the beach and the evenings to go out and party. Before a week had passed, she’d found plenty of people to party with. She became friends with a young woman who worked in a jewelry shop owned by the same person but located on Old South Wharf. Her name was Felicity, and when the shops weren’t busy, Clary and Felicity would call each other and chat on the phone. She also got to know Mindy, the rather silly girl who worked with Nell at Elizabeth’s, and through Mindy and Felicity, she got to know all sorts of men and women her age.

* * *

Nell gradually made friends, too: people who knew the O’Learys, or friends of friends in common back in Arlington or Cambridge. Soon the calendar that hung on the kitchen door was scrawled with dates and plans for Clary and Nell: cocktail parties for Nell, tennis dates for Clary. The phone rang a lot. The house was sometimes filled with the sound of Clary and her friends laughing. Sometimes Clary had friends in for dinner; more often they went out. Dishes piled in the sink, dirty clothes piled in the laundry room, but sooner or later it all got done. Through an unspoken agreement, Nell did Clary’s whenever she thought about it, and Clary returned the favor.

As the summer deepened, the boutique got busier, and finally Nell hired another girl to work part-time during the day. She was often tired from standing and moving and selling and unpacking and thinking about what needed to be ordered right away. But she always found new energy in the evenings with Andy. It was such a pleasure, she thought, often with a twinge of guilt, to be able to relax and be lazy, selfish after work, instead of having to tend to the myriad needs of the children. She didn’t have to fix dinner, help with homework, settle arguments, decide whether to allow bugs to live in a box in the house, worry about whether there was enough fresh fruit and vegetables, or tell anyone to brush his teeth. The evenings were all her own.