its arrival and thereby allow him to get through the evening. If he woke up in the middle of the night in a flop sweat, he could curl up into the fetal position and ride it out. No one would have to know, and by morning the worst would be over. And it would explain what Mickey had seen as his “funny” behavior after returning from Gay Head. As he hiked among Chilmark’s rolling hills, however, his spirits, already at low ebb, plummeted even deeper. It came to him that the whole weekend had been a mistake, a misguided attempt to preserve something already lost. Clearly the friendship that had served them all so well had played itself out. When they graduated from Minerva, they’d somehow, without meaning to, graduated from one another. Maybe, he told himself, it was just as well. At least the evening wouldn’t become maudlin. Thank God for Mickey in this respect. He would never permit straightforward testimonials or unironic declarations of affection. For him, simply that they’d come together for one last weekend spoke volumes. Perhaps because Teddy was born of parents who made their living talking, he’d never really understood the peculiarly male conviction that silence conveyed one’s feelings better than anything else, but maybe tonight it would. Get through the evening, he commanded himself. That was what mattered. Tomorrow they would all board the ferry and go their separate ways and that would be that. They all, he felt certain, were feeling the same way.
But evidently not. Returning from his walk, Teddy was surprised to discover that his friends’ spirits had markedly improved. Lincoln had finally emerged from his room and confessed to what they’d suspected was true: Anita hadn’t wanted him to spend the weekend with them on the island. Now that it was nearly over, though, she’d relented, not only forgiving him but even telling him to enjoy himself on their last night together. After an hour alone in her room, Jacy also seemed to be in a better mood. She apologized to Mickey for being so pissy earlier, an apology he accepted by giving her a hug and promising to have his hand checked out as soon as he got home. Then, their fellowship restored, he ordered “Tedioski” to “Please, for the love of God, put some real fucking music on.” By which he meant Creedence. All weekend long they’d been listening to “Suzie Q” on a seemingly endless loop, Fogerty’s distorted guitar solo overstaying its welcome, but Teddy put it on again and they all got to work. While Lincoln fired up the grill, Mickey stocked the Igloo full of cold beer and dragged it out onto the deck with his good hand so they wouldn’t have to keep running back and forth to the fridge. Jacy set the picnic table and Teddy opened a bag of potato chips and some onion dip to tide them over until the real food came. At one point, when Mickey went inside to pee and Lincoln was busy flipping burgers, Jacy came over and gave Teddy’s shoulder a squeeze. “Try to have a good time, okay? Our last night?” she said, and something about her tone suggested that would be heavy lifting for her as well.
Then after they ate and ferried the dirty dishes inside, everyone seemed content to sit on the deck as darkness descended, the music on low, talking quietly about things that didn’t matter—those that did being off-limits, as they had been all weekend. Teddy, who’d eaten little, could feel the salutary effects of his long walk begin to dissipate. Whatever this part of their lives had been about, it was all but over. There would be no debriefing, no attempts to articulate what they’d meant to one another these last four years. He kept hoping that Jacy would let Lincoln and Mickey in on her change of heart regarding the wedding, because that would’ve been worth celebrating. But she said nothing, causing Teddy to wonder if she’d changed her mind back again. And if he himself, or rather her disappointment in him, was why.
At some point in the evening the wind shifted, and though the beach was a good half mile away, they could hear the surf pounding, and when the moon rose out of the waves, it was suddenly, for Teddy at least, all too much. Going inside, he closed the bathroom door and studied his face in the mirror to see if the desolation and