Today was my day off, and after rewatching You and Your Stupid Oysters four more times, I took Zeus out for a walk. The weather was raw and thick with the smell of the ocean, and I breathed in deeply as Zeus snuffled along, nose to the ground. We walked down Black Pond Road, then turned to go along the Higgins Pond loop. The leaves had fallen from the trees, and the woods had a mystery to them. A literal mystery. Ten years ago, Matthew Dudek had vanished.
It was a reflex, looking for him. Long after the police had called off the search, I’d looked for him, this stranger from the North Shore. For years, I’d hike through the deer paths and bayberry scrub, sometimes alone, sometimes with Dylan or Brad, always looking for that little flash of blue, the color of the jacket he’d worn the last time he was seen.
Obviously, we’d never found anything. Once or twice a year, I’d google his name to see if he’d shown up somewhere, but the last mentions of him were when he’d vanished.
Zeus was sniffing and snuffling away—a chipmunk hole, some deer droppings. It was nice to think he’d find poor Matthew’s remains so the Dudeks could have some closure, but my dog, while sweet, was not terribly bright, and every smell, from an earthworm to a human crotch, was equally interesting to him. Plus, the police had brought in those cadaver dogs.
All these years, no answer.
When we got back to the house, I did what I usually did on my days off—tended to my house. I raked up the last of the oak leaves from the gardens, did my paltry load of laundry, cooked a big pot of chicken-pumpkin curry, which I’d then divide into smaller containers for the rest of the week. My fridge and freezer were already packed with my own work, but I loved cooking. Couldn’t help myself, honestly. I’d bring some to Carol, who lived alone, or better yet, invite her over for dinner.
Time to phone a friend and shake off this melancholy. Beth was free and more than happy to come over tonight. “I had to go into Eli’s room this morning, and I stepped in something sticky, Lillie! He’s fourteen! I don’t want to know what it was. Oh, and his laundry! My God, the smell, I can’t even go upstairs without gagging. He supposedly cleaned his room this weekend, but you know he just shoved all his crap under the bed. There was half a tuna fish sandwich growing penicillin in his sock drawer. Tuna! In his sock drawer! Why? Why?”
“Here’s where I get to tell you how much you’ll miss it someday,” I said, laughing at her horror. “Well. Not the stickiness and the mold, but the boy. See you at seven, okay?”
And then, because I knew Hannah was agonizing over Beatrice leaving, I asked her if she’d like to come over that night, too. It would be less awkward with Beth here, because she was the friendliest person on earth and could talk to a stump if need be. Called my father, but it went to voice mail. Texted him and got the response I’m busy, get a life, Squashy, love Dad.
I snorted. So you say to the daughter who loves you and feeds you. Shame on you. What are you doing?
None of your business. Go do your baby thing.
“My baby thing” was the only way Dad could talk about midwifery, since he was squeamish that way. Once, when I was thirteen, he’d seen a pair of my underwear stained with blood and had fainted. Fainted. I liked to taunt him by asking if he wanted to hear about a breech birth or a rectal tear.
Hannah arrived first, dressed in that effortless way our stepmother had taught her—that je ne sais quoi that my shorter, rounder frame could never manage. We were both wearing jeans and a sweater. I looked like I had just cleaned the house; Hannah looked elegant and wealthy, which I suppose she was. To be fair, Beatrice had offered to make me over thousands of times, and I had always turned her down.
“Hi,” said my sister. “How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“Good.” She glanced around. “The house looks nice. Oh, hi, doggy. What’s his name again?”
“Zeus.”
“A great name. Look at that heart on his nose. So cute.” She stepped to the side to avoid Zeus’s gynecological nuzzling.
“Zeus, stop,” I said. “No sexually harassing our guests.” I took Hannah’s coat. “Um, how’s your cat? Thomasina?”
“She’s good. Sleepy. Old.”
“Any weddings or events coming up?”
“One corporate Christmas party down in Chatham. Otherwise, it’s pretty quiet.”
“Mm.” We looked at each other for a minute. “Sit down. I made food.”
“Of course you did,” she said, and I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a mild insult. “Hey, your shed lights are on,” she added.
“Oh, yeah. Ben Hallowell is staying there for a little while.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Dad thought I could use a babysitter after you narc’ed on me about Bralissa’s wedding.”
“Well. Ben is a good guy.”
“Yeah, sure. Yep.” I sat down in the chair across from her, and Zeus collapsed on his bed in front of the fireplace. “Hannah, do you remember that car accident I was in?”
“Of course I do.”
“Ben was the driver.”
“I know.” She poured herself some red wine and swirled it in the glass, sniffed it and managed not to look like an idiot while doing so. “He pulled you out. Saved your life, didn’t he?”
“I don’t remember, but that is the story.”
“Why do you bring it up?”
“I don’t know. Just . . . having him here made me think about it, I guess.”
I had no memory of when Ben’s truck went off the road. None at all. The last thing I remembered was the smell of coffee and the cool of the window against my head . . . and then the hospital, the searing pain, the morphine fog.
Hannah leaned back and looked out the window. It was too dark to see the pond. I wondered if she ever missed it. Her own place was lovely, but it wasn’t this. Even now, the forest smelled like pine needles, and the rain blew against the windows, that loveliest of sounds.
Beth came in at that moment, bringing a gust of salty air with her, and Zeus leaped out of his bed like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod. “It’s getting cold out there!” Beth said. “Hi, Zeus! Who’s my baby? You are! Yes, you are!” Zeus, wagging so hard he fell down, offered Beth his stomach to rub. She obliged, then came into the living room, poured herself a glass of white, stuffed a piece of chorizo in her mouth and chewed. “What did I miss?”
“Lillie was asking about the car accident with Ben.” Hannah and Beth were sort of friends, too, since Hannah pitched the Ice House to a lot of her clients.
“Right! The bad boy of the bay is living with you! How is it, having him out there? Weird? Sexy? Do you watch him from the windows? Are you guys doing it? Because he’s wicked hot.”
“Did you forget your Adderall today?” I asked.
“I may have.”
Zeus climbed up onto the couch to gaze adoringly at the food. I slipped him a piece of sausage. “In answer to your questions, no. He’s practically my father’s son, so it would be almost incestuous and therefore wrong.”
“But so hot. Right, Hannah?”
“Sure,” Hannah said. “We graduated the same year, I think. But I was in Provincetown, and he was down here at Nauset.”
“Did you ever have a crush on him, Han?” Bethie asked.
“No. But he was always fun to talk to.”
Was he? Not to me.
Beth sighed happily. “Remember how we’d go to the dock to watch him when we were teenagers, hoping he’d take off his shirt?”
“I remember going to the dock to see my father,” I said firmly, stroking Zeus’s silky head. “Not to ogle Ben.”
“Liar.” She raised her eyebrows and sipped some wine. “I would do him in a New York minute. Wouldn’t you, Hannah?”
“I invoke my right to the Fifth Amendment,” she said. She was so graceful that way . . . dodging the question, being in the conversation but also being neutral, never having much of an opinion about anything. Always completely in control. God. We were so different. “Speaking of handsome men, Beth, how is your husband?” Hannah asked with a smile.
Beth sat back on the couch with that smug smile of a happy woman. “He’s okay. I’ll keep him for now.” She took another mini quiche and popped it in her mouth. “Let’s invite Ben in. His lights are on, his truck is right there and it feels rude, not having him here.”
“Isn’t it girls’ night?” I asked.
“What if he’s lonely?” Beth asked.