says.
“I don’t have thirty friends.”
“You missed dinner,” he tells me. “But you’re just in time for presents, cake, and champagne.”
“I didn’t bring a present.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Aaron says.
“I can’t believe I came to a birthday party without a present. That’s not like me. I don’t do that kind of thing.”
“Look at all those gifts.” Aaron gestures to a pretty pile of presents. “Amanda won’t notice that you didn’t bring a gift.”
On the air-conditioned porch, some people sit on upholstered wicker furniture while others stand in a semicircle around the birthday girl as she opens her gifts.
“I’m an idiot,” I say quietly.
“Stop, Mimi. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
And why am I doing that? Because there is a bigger deal that I am ignoring. A bigger deal about which I feel similarly helpless.
Amanda unwraps her first few gifts, leaving debris of wrapping paper, ribbon, and tissue paper. People ooh and aah over the presents and press closer to see them. The air on the porch becomes warm, then hot. Sweat beads in my bra and on my forehead, but I smile and nod along with this bunch of strangers.
“Are you okay?” Aaron whispers in my ear.
“It’s a little warm. I didn’t eat dinner.”
Oh, and my father may have cheated on my mother.
Aaron pulls me backward, out of the crowd. Into my ear, he whispers, “Let’s get out of here. Want to walk to the beach?”
“Yes, please.”
Out the porch door we quietly go. When we pass the poolside bar, Aaron grabs a bottle of champagne.
Young Woman and the Sea
Swiftly we walk down the beach, away from the house. It’s dark, but there is light from other houses along the shore. When we are a quarter of a mile away from Aaron’s house, he stops. “How’s this?”
“Fine.” I stand and face the dark ocean. I breathe deeply and feel the silence.
“Did something bad happen today?” Aaron says.
I turn to Aaron. He looks so open. So concerned. “What would you do if you discovered a family secret?”
“Is it a life or death secret?” Aaron asks. “Like, is someone’s life in jeopardy?”
“No. It’s a secret about something that happened years ago.”
“How do you know it’s still a secret?” Aaron says.
I look at him. “I didn’t know about it.”
Aaron shrugs. “That doesn’t mean other people don’t know.”
“I can’t ask people if they know or not. That would be giving it away.”
“Would it hurt or help people to know the secret?” Aaron asks.
“Hurt. Lots of hurt.”
“Then I think you should keep the secret,” Aaron says. “Every family has them.”
Indeed.
“Can I help?” Aaron asks.
Of course not. But since he is so available, why not tell him one of my many problems? “Sid proposed to my mother.”
Aaron doesn’t say, “How do you feel about it?” or “Everything will be all right.” Aaron doesn’t say anything. He stands still and looks at me. And because he doesn’t do or say anything, because he is simply standing there, ready to listen, I talk.
“I came home, to what I thought was home, and nothing is the way I thought it would be. And now that I know this secret, I think nothing ever was the way I thought it was. My parents aren’t who I thought they were. So who does that make me?”
I don’t want to say any more. So I kick off my mules, and wade into the ocean. I go up to my knees, and the water touches the hem of my dress. The roar of the waves is loud, but not loud enough to silence the thoughts in my head.
From behind me, two strong arms circle my waist. I stand up straight, leaning backward against Aaron’s chest. With one arm still around my waist, Aaron puts the other arm across my shoulders. For what seems like forever, Aaron holds me against him, supporting me, letting me face the ocean.
I remember Joe swimming into the ocean and screaming at things I couldn’t see. And so I scream. I scream frustration, disappointment, and grief. Then I cry. It’s been a long time since I cried. I didn’t cry over Nick’s cheating. But I’m crying over Dad’s.
When my tears stop flowing, I take Aaron’s hand, and lead him to the shore. We sit on the sand. Aaron says, “What you said about not knowing who your parents are? I think you do know. They loved you and raised you as best they could. What you find out after the fact doesn’t change that. Now we’re adults and we