hands possessively in the back pocket of Vivi’s new jeans and his other hand holding a cigarette. Sometimes they go to a movie at the mall; sometimes Vivi goes to the high-school parties where Brett’s band is playing. Afterward, they drive around Parma and Seven Hills in Brett’s Buick Skylark playing 100.7 WMMS (the greatest rock station in America, right there in Cleveland) so loud that the soles of Vivi’s shoes vibrate against the dashboard as the crisp Ohio air rushes in through the open windows. They park on State Road Hill or the Canal Road over in Independence and make out. They go to second base; they go to third base. They say, I love you, I love you too, I love you more, I am so in love with you. The feeling is so fresh out of the box, so wondrous, that they believe they are the first people ever to experience this kind of love. They believe they invented it.
Vivi goes with Brett to band practice, which is held in his buddy Wayne Curtis’s garage. Wayne Curtis plays bass, and Roy, who has already graduated, plays the drums. Vivi knows Roy; he has a smart sister in the grade below Vivi.
Wayne and Roy don’t act one way or another when Vivi comes to practice. They mostly ignore her, though once, Roy asks where she’s applying to college, and when she tells him—Duke, UNC, UVA—he whistles.
“Anywhere is fine as long as it’s not here,” Vivi says.
“I hear ya,” Roy says. The band’s name, after all, is Escape from Ohio.
The secret truth is that after Vivi falls in love with Brett, she falls in love with Ohio. With only her guidance counselor’s knowledge, she applies to Denison, Kenyon, Oberlin. She and Brett talk about getting married when they’re in their twenties and moving downtown into a condo with a view of the lake; then, when they have children, they’ll buy a house in Shaker Heights. Their kids will have the same sensible Midwestern upbringing that they’ve had.
At the beginning of November, they go all the way. They’re in the back seat of the Skylark, parked in the woods by the Canal trail entrance, and the key is turned in the ignition just enough to keep the heater blowing its dry hot air. There’s some positioning required, and for a second, it’s like a game of Twister; Vivi feels the ridged vinyl against her bare back, her clothes now mixed with Brett’s in the shallow wells of the car floor. Vivi pulses like a white-hot star. The pleasure and ache of Brett inside of her brings her to tears, and she ends up crying. They are both crying a little, because it’s Brett’s first time as well. And wow. Just…wow.
After Vivi’s father dies in February, Brett writes her a song. It’s called “Golden Girl,” and at first, Vivi is confused by the title because she has very long, very dark hair. But once she hears the lyrics, she realizes the golden is metaphorical. Vivi is Brett’s golden girl; she’s his sunshine, his light, his treasure, his prize. She’s the fire in his eyes.
Vivi would have loved the song even if it stunk—but she can tell it’s good. Very good. Maybe even good enough to be played on WMMS.
With Vivi’s father gone, Brett Caspian becomes everything to her. He’s her sword and shield, her security blanket, her therapist, her best friend. His love is her oxygen. She will do whatever she must in order to keep him.
Back on Nantucket, at Our Lady of the Isle, the priest gives the Gospel reading and then the homily, which feels sort of generic to Vivi, but it’s her own fault for going to church only on Christmas Eve and Easter. Father Reed once mentioned to Vivi that his elderly aunt enjoyed her novels, and Vivi dropped off a signed, large-print edition of The Photographer at the rectory the very next day—but Father Reed doesn’t mention that in the homily; it’s more about death in general and how it’s really a birth into the Kingdom of God.
The homily is boring enough that the crying stops, but once Father is finished, Savannah ascends to the pulpit and you can hear a pin drop. Vivi takes the moment when Savannah is reviewing her notes to scan the church. Her gaze alights briefly on the front row. The kids are watching Savannah with rapt attention; JP is bent over with his head in his hands. Dennis is on