said.
“I thought we were going to Bali. Nightclubs. Or Phuket. No offense, but you two coming has been the most exciting thing to happen.”
“None taken.” The girl was unformed, a hard, unripe fruit who in a strange way reminded Ann of herself at that age—never able to rest in the minute, always looking for more. “Tell him to take you someplace else.”
In college, Ann dated a theater major, drank Manhattans, and wore black—a nonrebellion by other people’s standards but outrageous by her family’s. Her father had been a patent attorney, and when he retired, he taught theory at the law school. There was never a doubt that her older brother and sister would study law. The household lived, breathed, and ate jurisprudence. Around the dinner table, they talked of nothing else but the latest article in ABA . Outside interests and hobbies were considered an eccentricity.
Her mother, though, was mutinous. She and Ann would hole up in the den and watch foreign films. From her, Ann discovered the possibility of a secret life—doing what was expected of you on the surface while the subterranean you bubbled along underneath.
Wende snorted. “Dex thinks this is great. Just snorkeling, eating, and getting laid. Writing new music. No fans bothering him. I don’t mind the fans. Fans are fun.” Wende looked over her shoulder, then leaned over. “Between us, he’s a little old for me.”
“Why’d you come then?”
“I know what you’re thinking—dumb groupie from Idaho. Yeah, and a father fixation. It’s simple: I love his music. My mom played it all the time when I was growing up. I just admired him so much. But up close, his insecurity, his drinking, his using sexuality as a substitute for intimacy, as a marker for masculinity, well, it wears on you. I didn’t sign up to be his mom.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
Going on thirty-eight. Ann had been wrong. This girl was far more together than she was now.
“I have my own CD. It was my dream back in Idaho. But seeing the business up close, I’m having second thoughts about spending my life that way. Having my image manipulated by a corporation sexing up my work for their profits, being at the mercy of a young, unsophisticated, fickle public. Yuck, you know?”
“Sure.”
“Being here has got me thinking about doing something with the environment. Engaging my passion, but not in a self-involved way. Being of service, you know? Like sharks.”
“Sharks aren’t self-involved?”
Wende giggled. “They are being overharvested, and no one cares because of their bad PR image. Jaws and so forth. I’m sorry, I’m talking way too much.”
“Listening to you makes me feel young again.”
“That’s what Dex says. I think he uses me as his base target demographic. Until I met him, I’d never been out of the country before, except Cabo. I want to experience things before I settle down like you and Richard.”
“We’re settled all right.”
“I see how he looks at you. In love, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.”
Was that true? On top of all his other worries, did he have to worry about her? “He knows I’m not going anywhere.”
“An outsider sees things. My mom says I have the sight.”
Ann got up and dusted the sand off, pleased despite herself. Although she didn’t believe a word, it was falsely reassuring, like a good fortune cookie.
She headed back to the fare , looking forward to seeing Richard, maybe apologizing for being a little too hormonal, too type-A lately, but when she got there, the room was dark and he was asleep.
* * *
She woke early to the sound of a boat engine. Outside, John Stubb Byron and his silent knitting wife hurried onto the boat as if they were making a getaway. Cooked waved at Ann, and she waved back vigorously, as if to say, I see you, I see you . The boat motored out of the lagoon.
Later at breakfast, Ann asked about the couple.
“They say it’s too crowded here.” Loren
“I thought we were going to Bali. Nightclubs. Or Phuket. No offense, but you two coming has been the most exciting thing to happen.”
“None taken.” The girl was unformed, a hard, unripe fruit who in a strange way reminded Ann of herself at that age—never able to rest in the minute, always looking for more. “Tell him to take you someplace else.”
In college, Ann dated a theater major, drank Manhattans, and wore black—a nonrebellion by other people’s standards but outrageous by her family’s. Her father had been a patent attorney, and when he retired, he taught theory at the law school. There was never a doubt that her older brother and sister would study law. The household lived, breathed, and ate jurisprudence. Around the dinner table, they talked of nothing else but the latest article in ABA . Outside interests and hobbies were considered an eccentricity.
Her mother, though, was mutinous. She and Ann would hole up in the den and watch foreign films. From her, Ann discovered the possibility of a secret life—doing what was expected of you on the surface while the subterranean you bubbled along underneath.
Wende snorted. “Dex thinks this is great. Just snorkeling, eating, and getting laid. Writing new music. No fans bothering him. I don’t mind the fans. Fans are fun.” Wende looked over her shoulder, then leaned over. “Between us, he’s a little old for me.”
“Why’d you come then?”
“I know what you’re thinking—dumb groupie from Idaho. Yeah, and a father fixation. It’s simple: I love his music. My mom played it all the time when I was growing up. I just admired him so much. But up close, his insecurity, his drinking, his using sexuality as a substitute for intimacy, as a marker for masculinity, well, it wears on you. I didn’t sign up to be his mom.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
Going on thirty-eight. Ann had been wrong. This girl was far more together than she was now.
“I have my own CD. It was my dream back in Idaho. But seeing the business up close, I’m having second thoughts about spending my life that way. Having my image manipulated by a corporation sexing up my work for their profits, being at the mercy of a young, unsophisticated, fickle public. Yuck, you know?”
“Sure.”
“Being here has got me thinking about doing something with the environment. Engaging my passion, but not in a self-involved way. Being of service, you know? Like sharks.”
“Sharks aren’t self-involved?”
Wende giggled. “They are being overharvested, and no one cares because of their bad PR image. Jaws and so forth. I’m sorry, I’m talking way too much.”
“Listening to you makes me feel young again.”
“That’s what Dex says. I think he uses me as his base target demographic. Until I met him, I’d never been out of the country before, except Cabo. I want to experience things before I settle down like you and Richard.”
“We’re settled all right.”
“I see how he looks at you. In love, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.”
Was that true? On top of all his other worries, did he have to worry about her? “He knows I’m not going anywhere.”
“An outsider sees things. My mom says I have the sight.”
Ann got up and dusted the sand off, pleased despite herself. Although she didn’t believe a word, it was falsely reassuring, like a good fortune cookie.
She headed back to the fare , looking forward to seeing Richard, maybe apologizing for being a little too hormonal, too type-A lately, but when she got there, the room was dark and he was asleep.
* * *
She woke early to the sound of a boat engine. Outside, John Stubb Byron and his silent knitting wife hurried onto the boat as if they were making a getaway. Cooked waved at Ann, and she waved back vigorously, as if to say, I see you, I see you . The boat motored out of the lagoon.
Later at breakfast, Ann asked about the couple.
“They say it’s too crowded here.” Loren
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