head, knowing that if I try to speak, I will probably burst into tears.
“Migraine,” I say, which saves me from having to speak all the way home. I go straight upstairs and get into bed, playing the conversation over and over, shuddering in humiliation and horror each time I hit the replay button.
Annie texts me that she’s going out with Trudy. I should say no, particularly after tonight, but I can’t stop this relationship, not now that these two girls have found each other. I need to talk to Julia, need to download this horror onto someone who will understand, someone who may know what I could do to smooth the waters, if not for me, at least for Annie and Trudy, because they have to continue seeing each other and we can’t keep it a secret. Ellie is bound to find out.
Secrets have a habit of rising to the surface, like milk gone sour.
* * *
I wake up with an emotional hangover so heavy and disturbing that for a few seconds I feel like I must have been drinking the night before. I replay it again, and am grateful that in the bright morning light it doesn’t feel so bad.
Yes, it was humiliating, but it’s not like this happened in front of anyone I knew. This was clearly the most dramatic and possibly entertaining thing the people in the restaurant last night had seen in years, but I don’t know them; they don’t know me. It really doesn’t matter.
I think of something I heard someone say in a meeting once: Other people’s behavior is none of my business. Whatever they must have thought of me has nothing to do with me. It doesn’t matter. What Ellie thinks of me is another thing, but really, what did I expect? That she, like Julia, would fling her arms around me and proclaim her forgiveness?
Well, yes. Sheepishly I realize I was holding out for some kind of dramatic transformation. I need to let go, I think, taking a deep breath and picking up my phone to look at the time. I can squeeze in a meeting, I realize, and nothing straightens me out, reminds me of what’s important, better than a meeting.
Throwing back the sheets, I climb out of bed and go to get dressed.
* * *
The Tuesday meeting is exactly what I needed, and even though I don’t share today, by the time I leave, I am centered and calm.
Sam texts me that he’s taking Annie to the Downyflake for blueberry pancakes, and a man from the meeting, Stew, gives me a ride there. I walk in and see the two of them there, how grown-up Annie suddenly looks, her skin golden and glowing, her eyes lit up with excitement, and I am filled with love and gratitude.
To hell with Ellie. Look at what I have! Look at my wonderful daughter, my best friend, the life I have managed to build for myself in spite of everything. I walk to the table and give Annie a squeeze, sliding into the empty seat next to her, and I listen to her bubble with joy as she tells Sam about the beach party last night, a bunch of them over at some water tower off Cliff Road.
At least they weren’t far.
Most of the kids are at least sixteen, although she assures me there are a couple of younger ones like her. But they are all so lovely, she says. So curious about this new English girl Trudy introduced as her cousin.
“So what do you do at a beach party?” asks Sam as he pours maple syrup over his pancakes. “Are you all snogging?”
“Ew! No! Sam, that’s gross!” she says, although she turns red, and Sam meets my eye with a knowing smile. “We just talk,” she says quickly. “And, I don’t know. Hang out.”
I think of the giggling kids I have seen all over town. “Were there any drugs?”
“Mom!” she says. “Don’t be daft. Of course not!”
“Sorry.” I shrug, masking my skepticism. “I had to ask.”
* * *
After breakfast Annie comes with us to the bicycle store. We rent three bikes and take off round the island, stopping from time to time to consult the maps. I marvel again, as I did all those years ago, at how such a tiny island can have so many things. The charm and beauty of Sconset, the quaintness of Main Street, the rugged beauty of the working boats bobbing in Madaket Harbor.