At the cottage, Hope began to settle in. She set the wooden box on the kitchen table, put away the groceries, unpacked her belongings into the drawers so she wouldn’t be living out of a suitcase all week, and texted her kids, letting them know she’d arrived. Then, donning a jacket, she stepped onto the back deck and slowly descended the steps to the sand. Her back and legs were stiff from the drive, and though she felt like taking a stroll, she wouldn’t go far. She wanted to conserve her energy for the following day.
The sky was the color of cobalt, but the breeze was chilly and she tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. The air smelled of brine, primordial and fresh. Near a truck parked at the water’s edge, a man sat in a lawn chair flanked by a row of fishing poles, their lines disappearing into the sea. He was shore fishing, and Hope wondered whether he’d have any luck. Never once had she seen someone at the beach actually reel in a fish from the shallow water, but it seemed to be a popular pastime.
In her pocket, she felt her phone vibrate. Hoping it was one of the kids, she noted instead a missed call from Josh. She put the phone back in her pocket. Unlike Jacob and Rachel, he had been interested in her reasons for going to the beach. He thought she hated the beach, since she’d never wanted to vacation there while they’d been married. Whenever Josh had suggested that the family rent a house at the beach, Hope had always offered an alternative: Disney World, Williamsburg, camping trips in the mountains. They went skiing in West Virginia and Colorado, and spent time in New York City, Yellowstone, and the Grand Canyon; eventually they’d purchased a cabin near Asheville, which Josh had kept in the divorce. For years, the thought of being at the beach had just been too painful. In her mind, the beach and Tru were forever linked.
Nonetheless, she sent the kids to summer camps near Myrtle Beach and surfing camps at Nags Head. Both Jacob and Rachel took naturally to surfing, and ironically, it was after one of Rachel’s stays at surfing camp that Josh and Hope first began to heal the wounds of the divorce. While at camp, Rachel had complained of difficulty breathing and a racing heart; back at home, they took her to see a pediatric cardiologist, and within a day she was diagnosed with a previously undiscovered congenital defect that would require open-heart surgery.
At the time, Hope and Josh hadn’t spoken for nearly four months, but each of them set aside their antagonism for the benefit of their daughter. They alternated spending nights in the hospital and never once raised their voices in anger. The unity of their shared suffering had passed as soon as Rachel was released from the hospital, but it was enough to set in motion a relationship that allowed them to discuss the children in a cordial manner. As time passed, Josh remarried to a woman named Denise, and surprising Hope, something akin to friendship began to slowly renew.
Partly, it had to do with Josh’s marriage to Denise. As that relationship began to disintegrate, Josh began calling Hope. She tried to offer as much support as she could, but in the end, Josh’s divorce from Denise ended up being even more acrimonious than his divorce from Hope.
The stress of the divorces had taken a heavy toll on Josh and he no longer resembled the man she’d married. He’d put on weight and his skin was pallid and spotted; he’d lost much of his hair and his once-athletic posture had become stooped. One time, after she hadn’t seen him for a few months, it had taken Hope a few seconds to recognize him when he waved at her from across the dining room of their country club. She no longer found him attractive; in more ways than one, she felt sorry for him.
Not long before he’d retired, he’d shown up at her door in a sports jacket and pressed slacks. His freshly showered appearance had signaled that it wasn’t a normal visit, and she’d motioned him toward the couch. She made sure to sit at the opposite corner.
It took a while for him to get to the point. He started with small talk, discussing the children, and then a bit about his work. He asked whether she was still doing the New York Times crossword puzzles, a habit she’d picked up shortly after the kids started school that had slowly but surely become a minor addiction. She told him that she’d finished one just a few hours ago, and when he brought his hands together, she asked him what was on his mind.
“I was thinking the other day that you’re the only real friend I have anymore,” he finally said. “I have partners at work, but I can’t really talk to any of them the way I do with you.”
She said nothing. Waiting.
“We’re friends, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “I suppose we are.”
“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately…about you and me. The past. How long we’ve known each other. Did you realize it’s been thirty years? Since we met?”
“I can’t say that I’ve thought about it much.”
“Yeah…okay.” Though he nodded, she knew he’d wanted a different answer. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know I made a lot of mistakes when it came to us. I’m sorry about the things I did. I don’t know what was going through my mind at the time.”
“You’ve already apologized,” she said. “And besides, that’s all in the past. We divorced a long time ago.”
“But we were happy, right? When we were married.”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Not always.”
He nodded again, a hint of supplication in it. “Do you think we could ever try again? Give it another shot?”
She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You mean marriage?”
He raised his hands. “No, not marriage. Like…going on a date. As in, can I take you to dinner on Saturday night? Just to see how it goes. It might not go anywhere, but like I said, you’re my closest friend these days—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, cutting him off.
“Why not?”
“I think you’re probably in a low spot right now,” she said. “And when you’re feeling low, sometimes even bad ideas can seem like good ones. It’s important for the kids to know that we still get along, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that.”
“I don’t want to jeopardize it, either. I’m just wondering if you’d be willing to give us another chance. Give me a chance.”
In that moment, she wondered how well she’d ever known him.
“I can’t,” she finally said.
“Why not?”
“Because,” she told him, “I’m in love with someone else.”
As she walked the beach, the damp, cold air began to make her lungs ache, and she decided to turn around. At the sight of the cottage in the distance, a memory of Scottie flashed through her mind. Had he been with her, she knew he would have been disappointed and stared at her with those sweet, sad eyes of his.
The kids had little memory of Scottie. Though he’d been part of the household when they were young, Hope had read once that the part of the brain that processes long-term memory isn’t fully developed until a child is seven or so, and Scottie had passed away by then. Instead, they remembered Junior, the Scottish terrier who was part of their lives until both Jacob and Rachel were in college. While Hope had doted upon Junior, she secretly admitted that Scottie would always be her favorite.
For the second time on the walk, she felt her phone vibrate. While Jacob hadn’t yet responded, Rachel had texted back, telling Hope to hav fun! Any cute guys? Luv u with a smiley face. Hope knew that kids these days had their own texting protocols, complete with brief responses, acronyms, incorrect spelling and grammar, and a heavy use of emojis. Hope still preferred the old-fashioned way of communicating—either in person, on the phone, or in a letter—but her kids were of a different generation, and she’d learned to do what was easiest for them.