Chapter 61
Zooey just couldn’t stop saying, “I’m sorry,” that summer. She was sorry for everything. Sorry she had missed all of June and most of July on Captain’s. Sorry Michael and Keeley were fighting for no apparent reason. Sorry she was too tall and flat-chested and weird-looking, still Zork the Stork at eighteen.
Most of all, she was sorry because she was the reason her father was dead. If she hadn’t gotten drunk that Friday night in December after she received her early-decision acceptance letter from Wellesley, hadn’t gone to that party with her friend from school, Amanda Hobson, and then gotten behind the wheel of her family’s old Volvo, giggling and oblivious to everything, the roads caked with ice, she wouldn’t have crashed the car and ended up in the hospital with a concussion and a cut on her forehead. Then her father and mother wouldn’t have had to endure the embarrassment of the charges of drunk driving and the fear for their daughter’s life.
That was what had done it, made her dad have a heart attack only a week later. She knew it. She didn’t care what people said about him being older, in his sixties already, with a family history of heart disease. No, it was her fault. She should have been a better daughter. Her father couldn’t have loved her more, couldn’t have been more supportive or interested in everything she said and thought and did. Although Wellesley was her mother’s alma mater, it was her father who had always encouraged Zooey’s artistic dreams and backed up her choice of a major in Studio Art there. A frustrated artist himself, her father’s family never allowed him to consider art as a vocation; it was only something to enjoy as a hobby.
“You’ll do it, Zooey. You have the talent and the drive,” he said, eyes shining with pride when they’d discussed her plans.
He had been the one to buy her first set of watercolor paints as a girl. He’d been the one to make sure she was continually enrolled in local art programs. They would go together to various picturesque spots on the weekends and paint, each checking each other’s canvases, commenting and making suggestions. Now, he was gone. There would be no more blissful days like that, the sharp smell of turpentine permeating and euphoric.
When she finally arrived on the island with her mother in late July, she could tell as soon as they got off their boat and started unloading that her mother wouldn’t stay. She was barely there anymore. Her vibrant zany mother had left. This ghost only wanted to be back with her four older sisters in Michigan, where they’d been staying since her father’s death. There her mother was cared for and petted, a child again in her family’s presence. Zooey had never realized that her mother, though acting the part of a grown-up, had also been a child in her marriage.
Her mother had never held a job, balanced a checkbook, made a deposit at the bank, or even paid a bill. It had been her father taking care of her and Zooey all along. There had always been plenty of money – both of her parents came from great wealth – that wasn’t a problem. Her mother would never have to work or worry about expenses, but it was clear that all she wanted to do was go back to Grosse Point, get a house in the same neighborhood where she grew up and where all her sisters lived, and be watched over by them. She had been resistant to Zooey’s pleas to go to Captain’s, finally giving in only when her sisters said it would be a good idea.
Zooey was right. Her mother lasted only a week on Captain’s before leaving on the next flight out of JFK for Detroit.
“You’re leaving?” Zo had been in the kitchen preparing her breakfast of toast and tea when her mother appeared carrying her suitcase.
Her mother put down her suitcase on the kitchen floor and smiled at her daughter hopefully. “I was hoping you’d come back home with me? We can go to the lake house on the weekends with everyone. Everyone wants us there. We’ve been here a whole week. That’s been enough, hasn’t it?”
“But, my friends. I was… this is our last summer before college. We were going to have our own special party at the end of August, remember?”
“Oh, yes. Dogs something?”
“Dog Days. You know, like summer? Dog days of summer? I told you,” Zo said, unable to keep the irritation of having to repeat herself once again. The mother she knew remembered every little thing Zo told her, every dream, every party, every fanciful idea. This mother remembered nothing.
“Oh, oh, right. Yes. Well, then, of course. You have to stay and have fun with your friends. Do you mind being on your own? Do you need me to stay?”
Zooey looked at her mother. She was already on her own, even with her mother around. She’d seen that all spring and early summer in Michigan, felt the coldness of it. Her aunts were kind, but she barely knew them, having only met them twice in her life – once when she was a toddler and once at a family reunion when she was ten. Oh, Daddy. Why did you have to leave us? “No. I don’t mind. No, you go.”
“I’ll be back soon. I just miss my sisters. But I’ll be back in a week or so. Definitely before the end of August and your little party. Do you need anything? Here, let me give you some spending money,” she said, forgetting again that Zooey had a large savings account as well as an enormous trust fund left to her by her father. The only thing she didn’t need was money.
Being alone in the house was less lonely than she thought it would be. In a way, being around her pale ghost-mother had made her miss all the more the family that once was. She slept in later without her mother’s oversight, and wandered around most mornings in her nightgown without bothering to put on a robe, eating meals standing up at the kitchen counter like a wild heathen. It would have been fun if she wasn’t so miserable.
Even though she had stayed on the island to be with her friends, daily she was surprised by their lack of understanding of her and what she was going through. Never before had she felt so separate from them, angry at what seemed like willful obtuseness on their part. If Pam’s clueless remarks and Amy’s impatient rudeness was bad, Keeley’s near-jubilation was the worst.
Keeley seemed to see Zooey’s lack of parents as something to celebrate. Her first remark upon hearing that Zooey’s mother had left the island was, “Oh, you’re so lucky. You’re free.”
Zo was so shocked and hurt, she simply blinked and nodded slightly. This was the girl she used to worship? Then, the next slap fell. “You know what? We should have a party at your house.”
Her house? Her haven? Where she could let go and just weep every evening sitting on her bed, holding her favorite framed photograph of her father in her hands? “Oh, no, we can’t. I’m sorry! My mom would be so mad,” Zooey said. Her mother was so disconnected she wouldn’t notice a herd of elephants running through their living room.
The four girls were hanging out at the Barefooter house, bored and hot, sitting around the edges of the rotting floor in the living area and throwing things into the hole in the corner of the room, listening to them plop one by one in the water below.
“Whatchootalkinbout Zo?” Keeley said, sticking her lower lip out. “Of course your mom won’t be mad. She won’t even know. It’ll be perfect. And your house is huge. We can invite everybody!” She grinned at the others.
“Awesome!” Pam chimed in, eyes glowing. There was a new boy on the island, Clay Duffy, that she had her eye on. You could see her thinking, figuring out how she would make her move. Which wouldn’t work, even Zooey could see that. Rose Griffin had already put dibs on him, apparently finally abandoning her quest to steal Michael away from Keeley. Rose had started following Clay around, and Clay, normally enough, seemed thrilled to have the attention of one of the island’s most beautiful girls.
“Does your dad, I mean, your mom…,” Amy was clearly wrestling with the right thing to say. “What about liquor? Is there any at your house?”
“No, no, we can’t. I’m sorry!” Zo said, looking around at her friends, waiting for them to understand. They would have ignored her, too, if it hadn’t been for Michael, who heard about their plan when they went to his house after lunch at Amy’s.
He was outside on the beach in front of his house, squatting in the sand and waxing his surfboard. When Keeley announced the plan to him, the first thing he did was squint up at Zooey. “What does Zo have to say about all this?”
“I’m sorry,” Amy imitated in a sing-song voice.
Pam elbowed Amy hard and said, “Zo’s cool with it.”
Michael kept looking at Zooey. “I think I was asking Zo, not you guys. So?”
Zooey shrugged her shoulders, her mouth turning down. She was angry with her friends, but she understood at the same time that she was being selfish by not hosting this party. It was a quiet little island most of the time and the kids had to make their own fun. Here she had a huge party-perfect house all to herself. But… “I’m sorry. I just, I’m not sure I should have a party. I mean, what if something gets broken? And the liquor cabinet. My mother will notice that. They don’t really drink. I’m really really sorry.”
Michael shook his head. “Stop saying you’re sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Actually, you’re a good daughter.”
Keeley plopped down next to him in the sand, fell on her back and splayed her arms and legs out helplessly. “Oh, I can’t take it. It’s so boring this year. No one’s having any parties. I’m going to die from lack of fun.”
“Hey!” Pam said, her hands going to her hips.
“Yeah!” Amy said. “Thanks a lot! I guess we’re just too boring for you.”
Keeley shook her head, rubbing the back of her hair into the sand. “No. I didn’t say that. All I need is just one little party. Just one fun thing between now and our Dog Days boat party. Come on, you guys!”
Zooey stood there, torn and wavering, biting her lip and feeling her friends’ discontent pointed at her like a finger. Then Michael jumped in with a solution. They would have a small no-damages party at Zo’s. He would get the beer, that is, one of the older guys on the island would get it for them. In return for the older boy’s help, he’d be invited. It would be fun, but quiet: no wild stuff. Zooey was relieved and agreed. It didn’t sound too bad. Keeley was mollified. Pam wanted to invite Clay, but they all agreed that was impossible considering the Rose situation.
Once the evening of the party arrived and they were all sitting around holding their sweating beers in her formal living room, Zooey realized she should have given in to the original idea. A big crowd would have made up for the uptight Victorian décor and echoing hugeness of her house, particularly compared to the cozy little houses on the other end of the island that all of her guests were used to.
The four girls, Michael, and the older boy who’d gotten the beer, Sam, sat there, making small talk and fanning themselves in the heat, and Zooey was watching everyone look more and more disappointed. She couldn’t stand it.
Then it hit her.
“Hey, I have an idea!”
They all looked up.
“Let’s go up to the widow’s walk! It’s got amazing views, and it’s nice and cool. There’s always a breeze up there.”
So that was where the party really happened. Up on the large widow’s walk they sprawled out and finally relaxed, watching the sun set and talking about everything and anything. Sam kept teasing Amy, which made Zooey think he liked her, and Amy teased right back in merciless manner, which made her sure Amy didn’t return his interest. Keeley sat between Michael’s legs, his arms around her, her head resting on his chest, and Zo tried not to be jealous. Her friend had a wonderful boyfriend, she should be happy for her.
It was after the sun had finished going down, the sky washed in deepening shades of blue and purple, when Keeley started complaining about Rose. “I just don’t understand why she had to go after you, Michael. I mean, I hope things work out for her and Clay, but-“
“Well,” Pam said. “I don’t. Clay deserves better.”
Michael chuckled. “Honestly, anyone who gets stuck with Rose is going to be sorry. She’s a poor thing. I feel sorry for her.”
Keeley twisted around to look up at him. “Poor thing? Sorry for her? She’s the meanest person ever! And then she has to chase after you. Leave my boyfriend alone, Rose.”
Michael just shook his head.
“No, really?” Keeley said. “Why would anyone feel sorry for her?”
“Of course you don’t understand. You don’t know her. Not really. I do now, and all I can say is that she’s one of those people that looks like they have it all together on the outside, but the inside,” he said, tapping his forehead. “It’s a big mess. I pity the poor guy that marries her. Now, you, that’s a different story. Marrying you will be-“
Michael was reaching for Keeley, smiling, but she scooted away from him, across the widow’s walk, all humor gone from her face. “You promised, Michael.”
Pam’s head snapped around. “Married?”
“Woo hoo!” Amy crowed. “I knew it!”
Sam looked as confused and caught off guard as Zooey felt. Married? They were just kids. They were all going to college and then they’d have careers, and then later they’d get married and have kids of their own. They were all going to come out to Captain’s every summer with their husbands and children, who would be best friends, too. The four girls had agreed: that was the plan. The only one who might not go to college was Amy, who, unlike the others, hadn’t applied anywhere, insisting that college was a waste of money. Zooey guessed that Amy’s working-class family couldn’t afford college and their values didn’t support higher education in general.
Michael looked around at the others and then back at Keeley, who was sitting facing him now, her arms folded across her chest. “Well, we’re talking about it now,” he said.
“No,” Keeley said, shaking her head. “You’re talking about it. It stopped being a two-person conversation about a month ago. And now you’re bringing it up again, in front of my friends? What do you expect them to do, answer for me? Ha!” She reached for her beer can and emptied the last of it down her throat, head tilted back, her long golden hair nearly touching the floor.
“I think it’s wonderful!” Amy said, clapping her hands together. “I’m so happy for you two.”
Keeley squeaked a little and jumped to her feet. “See? See what you’ve done? God!” Then she turned and fled down the stairwell.
Pam and Amy climbed to their feet. “We should go,” Pam said, her expression solemn. “Make sure she’s okay.”
Michael slumped and looked down. “Yeah.”
Pam and Amy looked at Zooey, who shrugged back at them. She couldn’t leave. She was the hostess. They nodded and ran down the stairwell after Keeley.
Sam, looking around, clearly surprised by the rapid change of events, said. “Maybe I better go, too, man. Uh, the whole women-thing is too much for me.”
Michael looked up at Sam as he got to his feet. “Sure, see ya. Jones tomorrow?”
Sam nodded. “Sure, see you there.”
Then Sam was gone down the stairs too, and it was just Zooey and Michael. Zooey felt a thrill of excitement and nervousness chill her. Michael, alone with her. She had never stopped seeing him behind her eyes when she closed them, never stopped finding her gaze lingering on him when they were all together. It was more than his looks. It was him, who he was.
She swallowed, a hard pointed dry spot clicking in her throat. She reached for her beer can, took a sip. Then she had a brilliant idea. “Wait a sec. I’ll be right back.”
Michael, who was looking lost and sad, holding his beer between his knees where Keeley had just been sitting, just nodded and looked off at the horizon where the sun had been.
Zooey ran downstairs and found what she was looking for right away on her dresser. She grabbed it and a pack of matches, and ran back up the stairs, bursting up at the top with triumph. “You know what you need? A smoke! It’s the ticket when you’re stressed out.”
She, having practiced many times with Amanda, expertly put a cigarette between her lips and lit it with a match, dragging deeply. She loved smoking. It was so cool. She sat down next to him and handed him the pack.
Michael took half-filled pack of cigarettes and looked at it, holding it out in front of him as if seeing a pack of cigarettes for the first time. Then he leaned through the slats of the wooden fence that went around the widow’s walk, and chucked the pack into the wooded area behind Zooey’s house.
“Hey!” Zooey protested.
“Hey yourself. Give me that,” he said, snapping his fingers and holding his hand out.
If it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have, but she handed over the cigarette. He crushed it out under his foot. “Now, that’s something to be sorry about.”
“God! Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, nodding.
“That was meant to be sarcastic.”
“Well, you’ll thank me for real someday. Assuming you stop now, anyway. Gross habit.”
“Gross? It’s cool.”
“That’s sad. You’re too cool to believe that.”
“You sound like an after-school special.”
Michael smiled at her. “That’s me, after-school-special-man.”
She looked at her precious crushed cigarette and the blackened smear left by the burning end on the white-painted floor of the widow’s walk. Not cool? She leaned back against the fence, perplexed and embarrassed. “So, what was all that about marriage? You and Keeley?” She couldn’t keep out the incredulous note that pushed its way into her voice.
“Yeah. We’re going to get married. Why wait?”
“Because you’re both kids, that’s why. We all are. Don’t you want to go to college?”
“Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know. Don’t you want to explore? Date other people?”
Michael shook his head. “That’s what I don’t want. Keeley’s had a tough time. The last thing she needs is a bunch of jerks messing with her head. And she’s the only one for me, so I’m not looking. We’re supposed to be together. She loves Captain’s. I love Captain’s. We’re good at the same stuff. We want the same things: a house here, kids, travel. We get each other - see the world the same way. She’s the only girl I know who doesn’t believe in God.”
Zooey stared at him. “You don’t believe in God?”
Michael tilted his head back and forth. “Not like most people do. I don’t believe God rewards you or punishes you like most people do. Mostly, I think God just sits back and laughs at us.”
“Then he’s got a sick sense of humor,” Zo said, thinking of her father, the uncertainties and cruelties of life. No, there had to be a plan, a reward, a punishment. She was being punished right now. “No, you’re wrong,” she said.
Michael looked impressed. “Wow, I never thought Miss I’m-Sorry could be so forceful.”
“I say I’m sorry all the time because I am.”
“Sorry for what? You haven’t done anything.”
“Yes, I have,” she said, looking away.
He paused for a minute and then asked, “What?”
She forced herself to stay calm. Staring hard at the bricks of the chimney to keep from crying, she said, “My father is dead because of me. I got drunk and I crashed our car and it literally scared him to death. He always said…,” she paused, choking a little and then taking a big breath. “He always said that I was the only worthwhile thing he’d ever done, that I was going to go on and do what he should have done with his life. He looked so pale and sick when he came to see me in the emergency room, and then a week later, he died. It’s my fault he died. If I wasn’t such a jerk, he’d be alive right now.”
Michael reached over and put his hand on hers that were twisted together in her lap. “No. It wasn’t your fault at all.”
“Yes, it was. God’s punishing me. I was so proud of getting into Wellesley. Too proud. I was showing off and full of myself when I got drunk that night. And my dad, he’s the one that paid for it.”
“No, you’re wrong. God’s not punishing you. You’re punishing yourself. For being a normal excited kid, you’re blaming yourself, making yourself into some kind of bad person. But you’re not. I know you pretty well, Zooey,” he craned his neck so he could look in her eyes. “You’re a good person. You loved your dad. And now he’s gone. No one’s to blame. It’s just life. Life isn’t fair. But it can be good. It will be good again, I promise.”
The lump in her throat turned to glass shards, tears filling her eyes. Could it be true? Could it just be life being life? Was she really innocent? Looking in Michael’s warm caring eyes, she felt the first spring-like stirrings of hope.