Later, once they’d reached the end of the pier, she’d asked her sister if she could live with her. She’d squeezed Mo’s hand and whispered, please don’t make me go back. But during that slow walk behind the tour group, she’d stared down at the wood beneath her feet, exhausted just imagining the city continually rebuilding a pier that would eventually fall into the ocean. There was nothing special about the pier aside from its length, no boardwalk or Ferris wheel, just a tackle shop marking the midway point and at the end, a diner. The pier was nothing but a long piece of wood that kept crumbling until it was rebuilt, and years later, she wondered if that was the point, if sometimes the glory was in rebuilding the broken thing, not the result but the process of trying.
The day after her mother’s reply had arrived, Aubrey met Nadia at the beach. She lay in the sand, propping herself up by her elbows, while beside her on the blanket, Nadia rolled over onto her back. She wore a tiny black bikini that made every man stare, but she seemed indifferent to the attention, as if she were so accustomed to captivating strangers that it hardly registered. Of course she was used to it, just look at her. Since high school, she had grown leaner, her clothes simpler and her makeup less dramatic in a way that only seemed to highlight how naturally beautiful she was. Aubrey felt so pudgy beside her, she couldn’t even bring herself to take off the baggy T-shirt and shorts she’d worn over her swimsuit. Had she always felt like the ugly friend? Or was this new? Was she just feeling insecure because of what she’d accidentally witnessed at her bridal shower? She’d tried to tell herself it was nothing, but she still couldn’t get the image of Nadia and Luke talking in bed out of her mind. Not in bed, really, but on his bed, as casual and intimate as if they were old pals. She’d left her guests in the yard to search for him, and when she saw the two of them in his room, she froze in the hallway, as if she were the one interrupting their party. She’d felt terrified every time she’d grown closer to Luke—the first time he held her hand, or kissed her, or invited her to cuddle in his bed. But Nadia looked comfortable. This closeness wasn’t new to them. They shared some sort of past together, and the fact that neither had mentioned it hurt the most. An unspeakable past was the worst kind.
“What happened with you and Luke?” she said.
Nadia shifted. Her eyes were hidden behind big sunglasses, her arm draped across her forehead.
“What?” she said.
“I know you guys were involved.”
She didn’t actually know this, but if she pretended she did, it would give Nadia less room to deny it.
“A long time ago,” Nadia said. “It was nothing. We hooked up a few times and— You’re not mad, are you?”
“Why would I be mad? It was nothing, right?”
She sounded jealous and ugly but she didn’t care. Why had neither of them told her anything? Did they think she was so fragile, she’d crumble at the news?
“Look, I swear it was nothing,” Nadia said. “I mean, fuck. I haven’t talked to him in years. We just hooked up in high school. Do you know how many guys I hooked up with in high school?”
She laughed a little at herself, then sat up from the blanket, brushing sand off her stomach. Aubrey saw herself reflected in the black sunglasses—her face almost a pout, her hair smushed from where she’d been lying on it. She felt silly for being upset. Of course Luke had been with other girls. She’d known about his reputation before she’d begun dating him. And high school seemed so far away. She’d had crushes on boys in high school whose names she couldn’t even remember now. To Luke, Nadia had probably just been another conquest. Or maybe she’d been memorable to him. How could she not be? She was beautiful and confident and strong. She wouldn’t feel scared just sitting in a man’s bed. She probably wore the types of nighties and lingerie that Aubrey had received from the more brazen of her bridal shower guests, things she knew she would never put on. She would feel like an idiot, standing in front of Luke in some tiny, strappy thing. She didn’t know how to titillate a man. How was she supposed to know what he liked? What if she still felt like jumping out of her skin when he touched her? She clenched her fist again, feeling the sharp relief of her own fingernails.
—
THE SUN BEGAN to lower in the sky when two Marines wandered over and tried to goad them into joining a game of volleyball. Both men wore dark swim trunks but their identical buzz cuts gave them away as military. Not just their haircuts but their eagerness. The stocky Latino smiling at Nadia looked too friendly, like all of the young Marines who lingered by the movie theater and the bowling alley, hoping to talk to girls. He bounced on his heels in the sand like a hyper child, his face still dotted with acne scars.
“Come on, ladies,” the tall black one said. “We need two more players.”
He was looking at her, Aubrey realized, a direct gaze, the way most men looked at Nadia. She looked away. She always felt nervous around strange men, even though she’d known the man who’d hurt her. If a man who knew you could hurt you, who knew what a man who didn’t might do?
“I’m not really sporty,” Nadia said.
“You can be on my team,” the young one said. “I’ll teach you how to play.”
She smiled. “I know how to play. I’m just not good.”
“That’s okay too,” he said, smiling back. “I’ll teach you how to play better.”
His name was JT, which stood for Jonathan Torres. He told them they could call him whichever they liked. He wasn’t exactly handsome but he had an easy smile that seemed to break Nadia down. She toed Aubrey, who was still firmly planted on her blanket.
“Come on, Aubrey,” she said. “Let’s play.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just watch.”
The tall one, who went by Miller, refused, resting his hands on the waist of his gray swim trunks.
“Nope,” he said, “can’t go on without you.”
He reminded her of Mr. Turner, the quiet way he spoke, his constant alertness, but most of all, his smiles, which always looked deliberate. He seemed steady. The volleyball net was only a hundred feet away. She could always leave if she wanted to.
“Oh, what the heck,” she said, letting Miller help her up. His rough palm was gritty with sand.
She had made an impulsive decision, the type of thing she never did. Suddenly the night crackled with promise. She could be a different girl tonight, the type who could talk to strange men and not feel scared. She could only be that girl because she was with Nadia Turner. When JT returned with a volleyball, they walked together to the nearest net. He chatted with Nadia the whole time, carrying their blanket under his arm.
“How old are you really?” she said.
He grinned. “I told you. Twenty.”
She turned to Miller. “Is he lying?”
“No comment,” he said.
JT was eighteen, they found out later. After their match, they squeezed into a booth at Wienerschnitzel, sharing the chili fries and hot dogs the Marines had bought them. Both men had jostled at the cash register, arguing over who was going to pay. They’d only been buddies for six months, Miller told them, but in the Marines, that felt like a lifetime.
“You shoulda seen this kid.” Miller pointed his fork at JT, dripping a string of cheese on the table. “Comes out here with nothin’. Don’t know nothin’. Can’t even wash his own socks.”
Miller was twenty-eight, wiser and shrewder. He’d joined the Marines fresh out of high school and had already been to Iraq twice. He’d lost partial hearing in his right ear from a mortar that exploded near his head.
“I can’t hear you for shit,” he told Aubrey during dinner. “You talk so soft.”
She scooted a couple of inches closer. Her thigh pressed against his.
“Better?” she said.