As the father of the bride, I had been given a spacious corner room on the third floor with a large bathroom (complete with aforementioned mini-fridge), small wet bar (complete with Jim Beam), white French doors that opened up to a small balcony, and a canopied bed. I took in the canopy and pondered its point. Why does a bed need a roof again? I then dropped my luggage into the closet where my rental tux hung, unlatched the French doors, and stepped outside.
I looked over the expanse of water stretching before me, inhaled a lungful of salty air, and remembered our honeymoon at Hilton Head one thousand years before. We had had a fine time, Mary and I: a week on the beach, sex in the morning, sex at night, seafood and wine in between. Mary was quite amorous back in the day, quite the love cat. We did it in on the floor, in the shower, and yes, even in the pool. I had forgotten about that. The pool. I couldn’t help but laugh. I absorbed the view for a few minutes, wished I could stay longer, then headed off in search of Karen.
I found her room on the opposite side of the floor. I knocked and waited. Nothing. I checked the number, 321, and knocked again.
“Karen? It’s your father. It’s me. Dad. Daddy.”
Still no sound. I knocked harder. “Karen? Are you in there?”
I heard a faint rustling, then finally footsteps. The door opened slowly, and there she was, Karen, my queen bee, messy-haired, pale-faced, red-rimmed eyes, Karen, my first baby.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi, honey.” I squeezed her hard, felt a sudden fury at Roger, a rage. He had hurt her. He had hurt my child. Maybe I would unleash Sal on him after all, bust him up. Maybe I would unleash myself on him. Maybe he had it coming.
She stepped back and ran a hand through her blond hair. “I look like shit. I was sleeping.”
“Can I come in?”
She moved aside and let me in her room, which I instantly recognized as an exact replica of mine. “Do you have a fridge in the bathroom?” I asked impulsively.
“What? Yeah, it’s in there somewhere. Why, you want something? I have beer in there, I think.”
“No, no, I’m fine. I’m fine.” I sat on the bed.
Karen leaned against the desk with her arms folded. Despite the heat, she was wearing a big, faded orange-and-blue Illinois sweatshirt, which at one time, had probably been mine. She pulled the sleeves up to her elbows and brushed her hair off her face. She had grown it long for the wedding. I remember Mary telling me that.
“Well,” I started, “I’m so sorry for you. This must be terrible. I’m just … I’m very disappointed in him.”
She looked away, through her open French doors. “What can I say? He’s a piece of shit.”
I nodded. I wanted to say Roger was a scum-sucking bastard, but considering my own scum-sucking history, I had to tread carefully. “Was this the first time?”
“Does that matter?”
“No, it doesn’t. You probably did the right thing.”
“Probably?”
“You did the right thing.”
She shrugged, kept looking outside.
“You sure he did it, though? You verified it?”
“I saw it. That’s pretty good verification.”
“So, you walked in and actually saw them doing it in the pool? This Penny, your friend? You actually saw them doing it? Having sex in the water? You’re sure?”
“Yes. They were having sex. I know what it fucking looks like. It looks the same in the water as out of the water.”
“Are they together now? Penny and Roger? Had this been going on long, this affair?”
“You know, Dad, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. There’s nothing to say other than I don’t care what happens to either of them.”
“You’re right, you’re right.”
We were silent for a few seconds. Then she said, “Everything, it just … Everything sucks.” She closed her eyes, and I thought she might cry, but she didn’t. My queen bee never cried. “Everything sucks,” she said again.
I just sat there, helpless, not sure what to say or do. Karen wasn’t someone who needed help, wasn’t someone you consoled.
“Is there anything you want, anything I can do?”
She opened her eyes, shook her head.
“You sure? You want me to talk to Roger?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I think I should.”
She looked down at the floor and spoke in a monotone. “I just have to get through the next few weeks. Return all the gifts. Put up with everyone feeling sorry for me. All that shit. It’s going to be a pain.”
“We’ll help you through this. Your mom will. And Sally. And Mindy.”
This brought a smirk. “Mindy. What black hoodie is she wearing today? Her I-went-to-Princeton one or her I’m-on-Saturday Night Live?”
“Don’t be like that.”
“I bet she’s having a field day with this.”
“Why would you say that? She feels terrible. We all do.”
“Right. Captain McBrag gets stood up.”
“Don’t say that. And you weren’t stood up.”
She shrugged again.
“You know, maybe I will have a beer,” I said. “Do you want one?” I started to make my way to the bathroom.
“No. I just took a Valium. I better not.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Valium? Who gave you that?”
“Mom.”
“Your mother gave you Valium?”
“Yeah, she takes it.”
“I didn’t know that. You shouldn’t take that. She shouldn’t take that.”
I changed my mind about the beer and sat back down on the bed.