“I’m going back to active duty. I’m going back to the Marines.”
Bart feels a thousand times better now that it’s out, but he also braces himself for Kelley’s inevitable rebuttal. If Bart goes back on active duty, who will take care of Mitzi? That’s the issue. Bart wants to go back to active duty because it’s the only thing in his life that he’s proven to be good at. He loves the discipline, he craves the camaraderie. He needs to be regimented; otherwise, he falls apart. He started going to the gym on a regular basis after Christmas, but it was a means to no end. Why work out if there is no mission, no goal? Bart thought he would be able to work at Kevin’s beach shack, at least through the summer, but the endless line of people flustered him, and he found the general sense of triviality—beachgoers losing their temper over how long it took to get their fish tacos and Coronas—off-putting. Didn’t these people realize how privileged they sounded? Did they not realize that people had died—and were dying still—in order to safeguard their freedom? Real things, serious things, were happening in the world. The U.S. was engaged in a war against ISIS, and there were flesh-and-blood soldiers out there fighting it. While Bart and the rest of his platoon had been held prisoner, people in America had been at the beach. While Bart’s fellow soldiers had been randomly selected and marched to the Pit, civilians at home had been going to brunch, then Snapchatting photos of their avocado toast. Bart knows it’s unrealistic of him to think that the entire nation would have hit the pause button on their happy, productive lives and waited with bated breath to find out what had happened to the servicemen gone missing outside of Sangin, Afghanistan, or even that the DoD would have dedicated every cent of its budget to locating the platoon. It was 2014—people went missing but didn’t stay missing. But Bart and the rest of his platoon had been marched off the grid and stayed off the grid for nearly two years.
Kelley hasn’t spoken, but Bart can tell he understands what Bart is telling him.
“I need to go back, Dad,” Bart says.
Kelley opens his mouth to speak. Bart knows what he’s going to say. What about your mother? Bart has to stay on Nantucket and take care of Mitzi. There will be no one else.
Kelley reaches out to squeeze Bart’s hand. “It’s okay,” he says.
What’s okay? It’s okay if Bart returns to active duty? Or maybe Kelley meant that Mitzi will be okay. This is what Bart wants so badly to believe: that his mother is stronger than anyone imagines, that Mitzi will not fold, crumple, or flail. She will bounce back—resilient, strong, capable. If she wants to run the inn, she will hire competent help. If the inn is too much, she’ll sell it and buy a smaller house, maybe even a house on the beach.
Kelley’s eyes close and Bart feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s one of the hospice workers. Laura, he thinks her name is.
“Your father needs to sleep before the party,” she says.
Bart nods in agreement and stands to leave.
“Your brother and sister-in-law are in the kitchen,” Lara says. “They’re anxious to see you.”
Bart heads to the kitchen expecting to see Kevin and Isabelle, a prospect that doesn’t exactly excite him. Growing up, Bart always sensed that Kevin resented him—loved him, of course, because they were brothers, but maybe didn’t like him. Bart, after all, had turned Kevin into more of a middle child than he already was. Since Bart has gotten home, Kevin alone has been tough on him. What are Bart’s plans for the future? What is he going to do with his life? Does he plan on making a career out of sitting in his room and smoking dope? This feels hypocritical coming from Kevin, because back when Bart enlisted, that’s what Kevin was doing. He was living at the inn, managing the Bar, licking his wounds from his disastrous marriage to Norah Vale, doing pretty much nothing productive or worthwhile—and he was far older then than Bart is now. Among the biggest surprises for Bart upon returning home was discovering that Kevin had gotten married, sired a child, moved into a rental cottage, and started a successful business that had nothing to do with the inn.
Probably, Kevin and Isabelle come bearing gifts, and Bart feels slightly more eager. Isabelle is French; she always chooses good presents. For Christmas she gave Bart a sterling silver shaving kit, which he never uses but is happy to have.
When Bart pushes through the French doors into the kitchen, he sees his brother Patrick and his sister-in-law Jennifer. Patrick has two beers in front of him, and Jennifer is pouring herself a glass of wine. When they see him, they start singing “Happy Birthday” in two-part harmony, and Bart smiles in spite of himself. These two are the perfect couple. They may have flaws as individuals, but you can’t beat them together.
When they finish, Jennifer hands Bart a card.
“Aw, guys,” Bart says. “The song was enough. I said no gifts.” He opens the envelope. It’s a $150 gift certificate to Fifty-Six Union, a restaurant here on Nantucket that Patrick and Jennifer love. “Thank you!” he says, trying to muster enthusiasm. What is he supposed to do with this?
“Figured you could take a girl out on a date,” Patrick says.
“Girl?” Bart says. “It’s October, man. There aren’t any girls on Nantucket.”
“What about Savannah Steppen?” Jennifer asks. “She was cute.”
Bart looks at Patrick. “I hope that other beer is for me.”
“It is, man,” Patrick says. “Happy birthday. And thank you for giving us a chance to get away from our kids for the night.”
“What was wrong with Savannah?” Jennifer asks. “She was cute.”
“She was my prom date,” Bart says. “My junior prom date. And she’s in college. She went to, like, Cornell.” Bart takes a sip of his beer. Savannah Steppen was cute, no argument, but she is stuck firmly in Bart’s past. High school. Which might as well have taken place a few millenniums earlier, so irrelevant is it to who Bart is now. All of his friends from high school are now in college—or, hell, out of college—and those who stayed here to work, Bart has no interest in fraternizing with. Which is the other reason he needs to go back into the Marines.
Bart is saved from having to explain this—which he would have done badly, especially since both Patrick and Jennifer believe Bart should apply to college himself—by the side door to the kitchen slamming. They all turn to see Ava walk in. She’s wearing jeans, an ivory cable-knit sweater, and her old brown corduroy jacket.
“Ava!” Bart says. He rushes to hug her. God, he’s missed her and that familiar ugly jacket.
She squeezes him tight, and when she pulls away, her eyes are shining with tears. “I can’t believe I thought about skipping this,” she says. “Also, I can’t believe you let Mitzi throw you a party. You hate your birthday.”
“Please,” Bart says. “Do you think I had a choice?”