the end of the ridiculously long line at the Juice Bar, with me, the woman who has the patience of a fruit fly, not minding in the slightest that we have to wait. Being back on this island has transported me into a different state of being, one that is infinitely more relaxed than my London persona.
We go into the Sunken Ship and laugh at the crazy hats, Annie insisting on trying each one on, then we each buy a T-shirt imprinted with the word NANTUCKET.
We mosey up Main Street, with memories flooding back. The pharmacy, the bookstore, the Hub, where I remember getting the papers with Brooks all those years ago.
Everywhere we go, I think I see Julia. It seems that every woman we pass is tanned, pretty, my age. Every woman we pass wears shorts and a T-shirt, has the same body type I remember her having, and each time I see her my heart thumps a little bit harder, the relief sweet at it not being her.
I have prepared what I am going to say, but I am not prepared to bump into her unexpectedly. I can’t wander down the wharf, going in and out of the tiny stores, looking at paintings, clothes, jewelry, until this is out of the way, until I have made my amends, and although that’s what I’m here for, let me enjoy this day, let me try not to think about it until it is actually upon me.
And please, God, let me not bump into her before I am ready.
Sam finds everything he needs in two of the stores. Shell-shaped pots, oversized white clay starfish, blue and white cushions patterned with coral. Woven trays, glass hurricane lanterns with rope handles. Inexpensive bamboo throws that are as soft as cashmere at a fraction of the price. At least for us, given the exchange rate right now. Were it not for that, I suspect everything on this island is actually three times the price that it would be anywhere else.
We all carry the bags to the car, and Annie and I bring our books to the porch while Sam whirls around the house “decorating,” coming back in for the big reveal, whereupon both Annie and I start laughing, clapping our hands in delight.
“You should be a decorator!” Annie says. “Not work in journalism!”
“I know.” Sam grins. “It’s my hidden talent.”
“Not very hidden,” I say, looking around with pleasure because a few bagfuls of accessories have in fact transformed our rather bland house into a dream beach house.
The orange pine coffee table is hidden by a large woven tray; silver candles and starfish are dotted around on various surfaces. The suedette sofas are unnoticeable underneath the glorious bamboo throws, and the cushions are perfect.
“It’s gorgeous!” Annie sinks onto the throw, gathering it around herself.
“No!” snaps Sam in a panic. “It’s just for show.”
“Tell me you’re joking.” I turn to him in alarm. “Tell me you didn’t actually just say that.”
“You’re right, you’re right. Old habits die hard. Wrap yourself as much as you want. I’m sorry,” he sighs. “What are we going to do for dinner? I have to tell you, I’m completely jet-lagged and exhausted. Can we make it quiet?”
“I tell you what,” I say, realizing suddenly that I too am exhausted. “How about I run up to the grocery store and cook tonight?”
“Would you mind? That would be fantastic!”
“Of course,” I say, grabbing the keys to the car and kissing Annie, who is happy to bury herself back in her book, good-bye.
* * *
Stop and Shop for vegetables, Nantucket Seafoods for the scallops I remember so well from all those years ago.
Fresh corn from a farmstand, and on the way back, I check the map, driving along Vesper Lane to scout out where I’m going to be tomorrow morning, at the Drop In Center, at 7 a.m. sharp.
Because I never fit in as a child, I always felt as if I were standing slightly on the outside, looking in, but at this relatively late stage in life, I have been astonished to find that the one place I always fit in, the one place I always feel at home, is in an AA meeting.
It doesn’t matter whether it’s my regular meeting in London or one in an unfamiliar place. It doesn’t matter whether I recognize a soul in there, for wherever I am, as soon as I walk in, I know I’m home.
I remember clearly, when I was here to meet my father,