and yawned. “I love doing nothing.” It was a wonderful feeling to collect their things and head up over the huge white dunes in the early afternoon. The kids ran ahead, stopping to examine shells and the wild roses that grew close by, while she and Walter followed, drawn by the thought of a cool shower and anap. Once when Wayne was nine he had asked them why they decided to have him. Anna looked over at Walter but he didn’t look like someone on the verge of speaking. “We wanted another baby,” she said. “That’s all we could talk about that summer at the beach, how we wanted another baby.” Walter grinned at her, eyebrows raised with the silent truth: they had been delirious with joy when the children finally closed their little eyes and mouths and slept like lambs. They had been careless, wild, and reckless, thinking that if something did happen they’d deal with it later. The nearest drugstore was a twenty-minute drive, and there just wasn’t always time enough to be prepared.
It was in the late afternoons, when the beach was empty, that the couple strolled out, cocktail glasses in hand, and sat on their deck. When the sun set, they got in the car and left for their late-night dinner. Anna and Walter imagined them driving over to a friend’s house, maybe one of the large antebellum homes just inland, where they would sit at a long polished table and sip champagne. By now Walter had nicknamed them “the Vanderbilts.” With the children tucked in, Anna and Walter sat on their own tiny deck and waited for the Vanderbilts’ return. They took turns using an old telescope to zero in on the lights of the pier; one night they saw a man catch what looked like a shark before a circle of people blocked their view. Another night they spotted a young couple kissing below the bait shop,the woman’s back pressed against one of the creosote pilings. Walter said that at least one of them was married, an illicit affair; Anna said they were teenagers trying things out for the first time. They would have placed a bet except there was no way of learning the truth. They sat with their telescope, the transistor radio playing, until the headlights came around a curve. The Vanderbilts always returned just before midnight. Their lights went out half an hour later.
The last day of vacation, Anna suggested they follow the couple on their nightly outing. As soon as they appeared on their deck, cocktails in hand, Anna started getting ready. Carol and Ben were in the back seat singing and screaming (they were going to get ice cream), and Anna and Walter took turns fiddling with something (he under the hood, she running back into the house) until the couple across the street prepared to leave. Finally, the Lincoln pulled out and they let them get a good block down the road before they pulled out and began following. Anna was excited, ready for a lengthy expedition that might take them who knew where, only to be disappointed five minutes later when the car turned into Brady’s Seafood, an old establishment adorned with plastic fish and nets and offering fried food galore. Walter turned off the headlights, the car still idling, as they watched the man walk around to open her door. Her floral evening skirt glistened under the streetlights as they walked to the big glass door. Inside they would be met by the glare of ceiling lights on Formica, the smell of fish and a reheated grease vat.
“Disappointed?” Walter asked as he turned their station wagon around, flipped on the headlights, and drove to the Tastee Freeze next to a Putt-Putt Golf range. They sat on a bench and let the kids run around on the little green course. “They deserve better, don’t they?” he asked, and she suddenly felt very defensive of these complete strangers. “Maybe they’re happy,” she said. “What do we know?” It became a quote used often over the next twenty-five years. It’s what Walter always said to her (reminding her) if she commented on
It was in the late afternoons, when the beach was empty, that the couple strolled out, cocktail glasses in hand, and sat on their deck. When the sun set, they got in the car and left for their late-night dinner. Anna and Walter imagined them driving over to a friend’s house, maybe one of the large antebellum homes just inland, where they would sit at a long polished table and sip champagne. By now Walter had nicknamed them “the Vanderbilts.” With the children tucked in, Anna and Walter sat on their own tiny deck and waited for the Vanderbilts’ return. They took turns using an old telescope to zero in on the lights of the pier; one night they saw a man catch what looked like a shark before a circle of people blocked their view. Another night they spotted a young couple kissing below the bait shop,the woman’s back pressed against one of the creosote pilings. Walter said that at least one of them was married, an illicit affair; Anna said they were teenagers trying things out for the first time. They would have placed a bet except there was no way of learning the truth. They sat with their telescope, the transistor radio playing, until the headlights came around a curve. The Vanderbilts always returned just before midnight. Their lights went out half an hour later.
The last day of vacation, Anna suggested they follow the couple on their nightly outing. As soon as they appeared on their deck, cocktails in hand, Anna started getting ready. Carol and Ben were in the back seat singing and screaming (they were going to get ice cream), and Anna and Walter took turns fiddling with something (he under the hood, she running back into the house) until the couple across the street prepared to leave. Finally, the Lincoln pulled out and they let them get a good block down the road before they pulled out and began following. Anna was excited, ready for a lengthy expedition that might take them who knew where, only to be disappointed five minutes later when the car turned into Brady’s Seafood, an old establishment adorned with plastic fish and nets and offering fried food galore. Walter turned off the headlights, the car still idling, as they watched the man walk around to open her door. Her floral evening skirt glistened under the streetlights as they walked to the big glass door. Inside they would be met by the glare of ceiling lights on Formica, the smell of fish and a reheated grease vat.
“Disappointed?” Walter asked as he turned their station wagon around, flipped on the headlights, and drove to the Tastee Freeze next to a Putt-Putt Golf range. They sat on a bench and let the kids run around on the little green course. “They deserve better, don’t they?” he asked, and she suddenly felt very defensive of these complete strangers. “Maybe they’re happy,” she said. “What do we know?” It became a quote used often over the next twenty-five years. It’s what Walter always said to her (reminding her) if she commented on
Similar Books
