Page 14 of The Summer Club
“I’m sorry, honey. This is just so…”
“Fucked up.”
Andi choked out a laugh. “Language.”
“Mom.”
“All right. Yes. It’s completely fucked up.” Which made them both laugh, a little.
“So now what?”
Andi shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we give each other some time to let the dust settle. Talk about it.”
Molly nodded. “You adults. All this talking. Don’t you want to, like, punch something?”
It was a fair question. How many times had Andi felt like punching something when it came to George’s new girlfriend, Camilla? She smiled sadly. “No, I think I just need to lie down.”
Molly scooted closer to her and folded into the curve of her side. It was something they used to do when she was little and they took an afternoon nap together. Or in elementary school, when they’d curl up and watch a movie. But then came middle school and puberty, and the look Molly gave her mother when she picked her up at school and dared to call out her name and, God forbid, wave hello. Now Andi closed her eyes and pressed her nose to Molly’s hair and inhaled: she could not remember the last time Molly had allowed this.
“It’ll be okay, whatever happens next. We’re all still a family, even if the details are a bit muddy at the moment. Got it?” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind Molly’s ear.
Molly nodded uncertainly. “But doesn’t this mean that somewhere out there I have another Grampa?”
“Yes, I suppose it does.” Andi would not allow her thoughts to go to that faceless stranger, at least not yet. “But we can figure all that out later.”
“Okay.” She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I bet this is hard for Grandma and Grampa too.”
Leave it to a kid. Kids always got to the heart of the matter, sniffed out the hard truths. “I’m sure it is, honey. And for Uncle Hugh and Aunt Sydney too. For all of us.”
“Are they mad?”
Andi considered this. “I think they’re in shock, honey. Like I am.” She turned. “But this changes nothing for us, you know that, right? Even if everyone is bent out of shape right now.” She looked deeply into Molly’s brown eyes, wishing to press the words into her consciousness. As if doing so might do the same for her. If only it were that simple.
Back in her own room, she flopped on the bed and let her gaze fall on the blue of the ocean, just beyond the dunes outside her window. It was all too much. Coming to Riptide was supposed to be cause for celebration. Here she was not even one night in and the whole family was coming undone.
She was too worked up to lie in bed. But she didn’t want to go back downstairs and face her parents just yet either. Outside her window the sky was giving way to dusk; streaks of lavender and pink dusted the horizon. She glanced down; her room afforded her a view of the patio and, beneath it, the trail that rolled down to the beach. Hugh and Martin were gone.
Without thinking, Andi dumped her travel bag onto the bed. She found what she was looking for right away. Before she could change her mind, she undressed and grabbed the faded red swimsuit from the pile of wrinkled clothes she’d hastily packed. As she did, she caught sight of her naked figure in the old dresser mirror. Being back at Riptide always reminded her of her younger years—the summers spent as teens when they hung out with other summer kids and locals, staying out late on the beach having bonfires. Swimming after dark as the tide came in, despite Cora’s warnings of undercurrents and riptides. Now the woman looking back at her in the mirror had a few lines around her big, brown eyes. A soft belly where she’d carried a child. Her long, dark curls hung about her face, still pretty enough, she supposed. And her limbs were still lean and strong. But gone was the brave, wild spark in her eye: the teenage girl who’d climbed out this very window countless summer nights. Who was confident in her own skin, as assured of her wit and humor to attract friends as she was in her ability to attract the attention of summer boys. Andi tugged her suit up over her legs and slipped her arms through the holes. She was divorced, in her forties, and now apparently without a biological father. She laughed aloud at the suggestion her friend had offered before she left Connecticut: maybe you’ll meet a hot guy on vacation! Who would take on the mess of her life now?
Downstairs, she slipped through the kitchen. Her parents were still in the living room, staring blankly at the television. What must they be feeling? Now was not the time to ask.
Out the back screen door, the patio stones were cold against her bare feet. As she trotted across the yard and down to the beach trail, Andi let her thoughts unravel. Back to the dinner table, to Tish’s announcement as the sun was just beginning its lazy pink descent across the sky. To the look on her father’s face as the words spilled out. To her mother, holding on to the table as she stood at its head afterward and telling them that she and their father loved them all. “Deeply and dearly,” she’d said. And something else—what had she said? “Equally.”
That’s when Andi knew something was really wrong. Never before had there been any reason to assign quantity to their mother’s and father’s love.
What came next was nothing Andi could have ever predicted. Not even after the upending past year of her divorce. Not even after selling her beloved family home and moving out. Not after starting over again—all over—alone, but for Molly. In all the wild upset of the past year, none of it could compare to what came out of their mother’s mouth next.
“Your father and I have raised you together and loved you together, along with your little sister.”
The twins had exchanged odd looks. What was she saying?
“But I loved you first.”
Hugh understood before Andi did. A sound escaped him that Andi did not recognize; a horrible letting go of breath. And something else. Martin had instinctively wrapped his arm around his spouse.
Hugh cleared his throat. “Are you saying that Andi and I are yours, but not Dad’s?”
“What? Don’t be crazy,” Andi interrupted. But, to her horror, tears were already spilling down their mother’s cheeks.