Slaters Beach, Massachusetts - 2004

It's hot. It's august. It's even hot at the Clark's house on the beach.The weather there is almost always perfect -every summer day— no matter rain, wind, heat. No matter what is happening in town or even at the local public beach. Some days at horseback beach are so sweltering that your flip flops feel like they are melting under your feet, on the asphalt. Even the shaded sandy walk way to the snack bars and shower houses emanates heat. We are used to it. Those of us who live in town. My best friend who works at Dunkin Donuts—she knows the swelter, getting out of a hot sticky Volkswagen Golf, ten o'clock at night. To work the night shift, the drive through window.

My mom and dad even with our nice, middle class house with four acres, mom's garden beds and vegetable garden.Even us, hot nights at our barbecues. And, Jack always looks comfortable on our metal and vinyl lawn furniture - pottery barn-which mom thinks is designer. Mom (and I until I came to know the Clarks) thought Pottery Barn was upscale.We thought my pubic high school was elite-because of the neighborhood and test scores. We knew nothing of Exeter and east coast boarding schools-until Jack and his family. But, just like at the public beach, just as in his role s lifeguard, Jack was perfectly at home in the middle class culture of my family. Maybe it's easier to enter and move around without notice than the other way around. My entry into Jack's family's world was unusually welcoming. The was because of Carol, Jack's mother, she too to me. Jack was her favorite and one day he brings  his 16 year old girlfriend over to meet her. She said she liked that I knew the value of a dollar. She plied me with intimacies and I saw reflected back in her eyes she found me delightful.

At that time, I liked the Clark's summer place more than I did my own family's farm house victorian. My mother's pride. When she had summer's off from teaching English in Wareham, she'd spend the time renovating and decorating. My dad-a family lawyer- took a whole month every summer to indulge her. She was kind and charming and he'd sit at night, a vodka and soda resting on the pottery barn outdoor lounge chair. Mom's drink untouched as she installed a cobblestone circular patio or dragged unearthed shrubs to create "outdoor rooms." He'd indulge her as she talked. He'd get up from the chair and let her direct him as to where to place a heavy bush or move a wheelbarrow. The summer I met Jack they went on a week long antique / flea market tour that spanned all states from Massachusetts to Delaware. They stayed at Inns and rented a U-haul and returned with enough furniture to completely redecorate our living room, kitchen, and dining room. Even with them away on their trip, I preferred to be with jack and his family at their Sumer home in Salters. I went back to my house only to water the plants, check on things, and pick up clothes or cds. I didn't even have to wash my laundry at the Clark. They had two full time housekeepers and a groundskeeper who helped the family in all sorts of ways from starting the fire pits to setting up canopies on the lawn for parties. He stayed there year round in a small gatehouse. 

One year a young woman writer stayed on a guest house on an adjacent property. For a summer-the summer I was 17, she did some cooking and housekeeping and the Clark's paid her a stipend so she could write and spend the summer on salters. She had a voluptuous prettiness. Still innocent but a Marilyn Monroe kind of vulnerability. She wasn't quite the sex symbol but she had sexiness despite her plain pale uniform. Years later I would find out she was one of the main characters in Edward's first novel. He would always change the subject—one time secretly telling me it was a really bad copy of catcher in the rye. I wanted to know if he was in love with her like Holden Caulfield was in love with Jane Gallagher.

Antoinette.

Jack and I watched as Antoinette brought the casserole dishes in from the kitchen. It was Edward's birthday, July 18 and Mrs. Clark-a little tipsy- had insisted on paella- a dish Antoinette did not know how to cook, but luckily the other housekeeper did as she'd made it for years-every summer for Edward. And in the two summers before Antoinette came Edward didn't seem to notice. The only reason his lack of interest in the paella was something I remembered was the way Mrs. Clark made such a big deal out of it. Edward would stiffly sit, ordinarily still in a short sleeve Oxford shirt and kaki shorts for dinner. Still well put together, every year regardless of the fact that Jack and I were comfortable in t-shirts and sweat pants or shorts our hair still sandy from swimming. Not Edward. He was somehow above the rest of the Clarks He stood out. And at that time, his mother wasn't so transparent in her contempt for her oldest son. Not like she would be later. At that time she would fawn and make a fuss and on July 18-his birthday-he'd eat the paella and dispassionately relent that it was indeed his favorite meal. But, the summer Antoinette was there, it was so markedly different- Edward's reaction. It was a scene from the Victorian novels he read at that time-still in graduate school. She was so pretty - more so towards the end of that summer after she and Edward started meeting up at night in the small guest house on the empty property next door. I'd been in there once Mrs. Clark had asked to deliver a list to Antoinette before she went into to town to buy groceries. I don't know where Jack or Edward were but I was at the beach house-I had been sitting on the deck with Mrs. Clark. She'd bene doing a crossword puzzle and I'd been reading The Handmaid's Tale. That day Mr. Clark was expected to  return home and Mrs. Clark had already had some crisp white wine. By noon she was already a little light and loose and affectionate. "Would you mind sweet heart? You really are a darling."

And I didn't mind at all. I walked down the long walkway, through the dunes and down to the shore. It was low tide and it was rocky I had on Keds -all worn and ratty. They were dirty pink, I'd worn them all summer and they ready to be replaced. When I got to the open beach, it was empty in every direction. I still could not believe how different the oceanfront lives were here compared to what I'd known. It reminded me of The Great Gatsby and the mansions that sat on the coast in Rhode Island, the old wealth evident here—fifteen minutes from my house but so remote and cut off from the normal working class people that I had't even known it existed. I loved their house and their life, but mostly I loved this expansive beach with sand dunes. That there was a place like this where I could at once be alone with the Atlantic. Private on the shoreline where in other parts people flocked to in the hot summer crowds, with no privacy at all. I walked the quarter mile between the Clark's estate and the guest house where Antoinette was staying. Had I gone along the road within this gated community-equally private, but faster by foot, it would have taken a a third of the time. I saw the little house situated on a small bluff surrounded on three sides by sand dunes. It was a one bedroom, open studio. A large deck led out about 15 feet on all sides. A path led to stone steps, a small landscaped garden area and then up to the house. I inhaled and stood for a moment. There was a floor to ceiling glass wall on the back of the house with sliding doors. I was far enough away that Antoinette could have had to look hard to see me. Why would she be looking out —no one would be out in front of the property. Even I really should have walked the route on the road, sand blown over, only to be cleared in the mornings. Sea grass on either shoulder. Sea shell driveways that cracked and crushed under the tires. Everything was perfect on Salter's cove. Everything. It all seemed implausibly casual, but anyone who knew anything about landscaping and coastal property would know it cost unGodly amounts to own and keep up these summer estates.

I stood for few minutes, first looking out over the ocean, a gray blue out to the horizon. And in the distance there was a boat. It was the far distance and it looked like it was a tug boat or a fishing trawler. It was heading towards the harbor. If I looked westward I could see several white crisp sails. In the distance but close enough that it must have been the summer kids out on the water. I turned to look back at the guest cottage and this time I saw Antoinette open the sliding door and walk on to the deck. She was nude and I immediately felt like a stalker. She wore sunglasses and carried a towel and a book. She had a tall drink. She was so beautiful and I realized although I was hidden by the dune I was indeed-conspicuous- in my curiosity. She was someone to watch. This time I thought of Edward and the paella. The way his eyes were fixed on Antoinette as she carried the dish to the table. The way she placed one of the individual casserole dishes in front of him. I could see the way he looked at her. I didn't know what I'd seen at the time. I felt uncomfortable and indeed Jack and I would semi-mock the situation. We'd marvel at Edward's elitism. How Antoinette was a "servant girl" and Edward was a Holden Caulfield. Really we were mean. And really what was I? How different were we? But I thought I was indeed like the Clarks, given how much Carol liked me.

"Hey there!" It was Antoinette.

"oh Hi!" I held up the paper with the list of groceries. "Sorry I wan't spying on you!"

She pulled on a light cotton cloth beach cover up. It was a cute yellow wrap. A pretty gingham that looked like expensive French couture.

"Come on up Annie!"

I got to the top and I could see she was beautiful. She was like a vogue model that's why I thought she looked so high fashion.

I walked quickly towards up the path and the stone steps. I crossed the garden area, a smaller stone path and flowing nasturtium and roses. I could see a grape arbor on the side of the house.

"This place is fucking crazy, right?" She laughed.

I got to the top of the deck and could see the book she'd been holding was a journal.

"Right." I said. "All of it is."

"You always look so cute!" She said.

She acted as if we were friends and I could tell I would admire her and would ordinarily want to be her friend. On the inside I hd a little note of dread because it would be awkward having her serve the family. To sit and have this woman exchange a glance between us. I was like her and most summers I worked jobs like she was working. Now though-this summer I didn't work at all. I spent my time at the Clark's -practically lived there- and used my savings to pay for the things I needed. I pretended I was rich just like them but Antoinette could tell I wasn't.

"I almost thought you were Edward" she said. She waited. I waited. Then she laughed. "He's cute right?"

I nodded and smiled. "I brought this list. Mrs. Clark wants some things at the grocery store. Mr. Clark is coming tonight."

"It's always weird when he's there right?"
I nodded but wasn't sure what she meant.

"This place is really awesome." I said. "I didn't even know it was here."

"My aunt owns the big house and they aren't coming this summer." She waits. "she has breast caner."

"Oh I'm sorry."

"Yes. Have you met her? She's very sweet."

"I have but only once or twice."

"Usually she has the parties but you know all of them are entertaining constantly. Must be nice, right?"

I laugh. "right."

"We should hang out some time."

"Yeah. That would be fun."

"Edward does't really spend much time with you and Jack though, does he?"
"no."

"he's really cute. I guess I shouldn't be—I mean it's obvious right?"

I don't say anything instead I'm inspecting her set up. She's got her sunglasses on the table next to her, a journal, a tall iced drink with cucumber.

"It's a spa drink-it's a cleanse."

"Really?"

"Here try it."

She bends over and picks up the glass. When she does I notice she doesn't have tan lines. This stands out to me because I am so used to my own. I realize she must nude sun bath all the time.

"Here. It's SO refreshing."

I take a sip. It was very refreshing but it was Antoinette that left the impression on me. It was Antoinette's fault I started drinking cucumber water and that habit would last for years.

"Yes. It is." I hand the glass back to her.

"Can I make you one? You can hang out. I'm just getting some sun until I have to go over to the Clarks."

"How come you're working over there?"

"I have to make money - for the summer."

I swat a bee away as it hovers around me.

"Are you in college?" I ask.
"Graduate school"

"Like Edward. At Georgetown?"  I press. 

"No. I live in Spain. Annie-if you want to experience the world you have to orbit the rich. I mean I work 4 hours a day at the Clarks and do a little care taking of my aunt's place. It's the same in Spain."

She had a way about her that made me think that sleeping with Edward was a part of that equation somehow. Not that she was doing anything wrong or immoral but that she was a voyeur. That she liked her place in the ecosystem. I looked down at her journal.

"Are you a writer too?"

"Too? Are you?"

"Oh I mean like Edward?"

"Yes. He's a good writer, don't you think?"
'I don't know. He really doesn't talk to Jack and me."

She shakes. "Yeah, well he cultivates enigma."

"But you like him?" I tease.

"I do! I really do. It' a summer thing."

"Is that what you are writing about?"

She shakes her head. Her long dark hair sticks to arm where the tanning oil has not absorbed. "No. I write memoir. Have you read any Anne Patchett?"

"No."

"I'll bring one of her books over. She writes novels but lately—I've been inspired by a memoir she just wrote. Truth and Beauty. It's about two friends-both writers. One has cancer -the friend not Patchette."
"Oh."

"I don't have a situation like that but I really connected with this friendship and honestly -maybe it sounds weird but Patchette is a sort of selfish narrator-you know? I think it's compelling for that reason. She's writing about her friend's cancer for God Sake and her friend had just wrote a memoir about it herself. A lot of people say "it's Greeley-that's the friend- it's Greeley's story to tell" as if Ann is exploiting it.. and she is. ok she is but see to me that's what makes the thing so damned compelling. Maybe because I'm a writer myself. There's a certain vein of jealousy or envy the runs through it. And you are left with— I mean Patchette's book is better than her friend's and the story belongs to her friend. Better in a literary way, I mean." Antoinette takes a long sip of her cucumber water. 

"Wow. That's interesting."

"Yeah. I'm probably not making any Goddamned sense."

I laugh. "you are." I realized I liked Antoinette and I did't care that I would get disdainful looks from Mrs. Clark if I showed interest and familiarity with Antoinette. "Maybe I'll read it."

"Don't buy it. I'll give you my copy."

"So that's what you're writing? A story like that?"

"yup." She eyes me and I can see a little something mischievous in her dark eyes. "Well I was. Then I found out about Edward's girlfriend and well, I don't know. I guess i"ll just write some summer vignettes and get back to the memoir. Those are memoir too but—"
"I didn't know he had a girlfriend."

She put her sunglasses on. "You didn't?!"

"No."

"Oh Lord Annie. It's a CRAZY situation."

I was so intrigued that I told her I would in fact have a cucumber water. I took off my shoes and sat on the lounger next to the one with the bright yellow towel, a plush bath towel that matched her cover up.

She returned with the drink and a small pouch.

"Want to get high?"

So we got high and drank cucumber waters. It was a narcotic warm day and the ocean breeze was cool. There was no story I realized at some point. The girlfriend story was lost on me. It was hard to say if Edward even really had a girl friend. It seems Antoinette was indeed a good story teller. She'd embellished an affair he supposedly had with an undergrad and how this girl was so innocent and insecure that Edward wished it had never happened. He felt guilty, Antoinette explained Edward wanted someone who was simply fun and outgoing—she said she wasn't bragging and that their affair would be over when she left in three weeks. Sure maybe they'd write but she definitely did not want him visiting her in Spain. Not that he wasn't handsome and insanely good in bed—but rather she needed the tragedy of it all. It just fit into her narrative. If I knew what she meant.

I nodded because I was high and because I realized I never told her I went to Georgetown too. And then being high I realized that it as actually really weird that I never saw or spoke with Edward on campus.

"It's weird isn't it?" I finally asked her. "It's weird that I'm at Georgetown too."

"Shut. Up." She kept her eyes on me.

"that is so fucking weird."

I felt a little embarrassed. "I know it's weird. But why is it?"

"Why?" She let out a deep breath and it seemed a good minute passed while she thought it over the breeze rushed through the bushes and a cloud passed over head.

"It's weird for the obvious reasons, right? But it's also just the general weird zeitgeist of this family. No offense but they are so fucking full of secrets. Have you ever gone in to the dad's study?"

"maybe."

"I fucking swear I would not be surprised if there was a book that was actually a switch that opened a secret wall behind a book case and there were -I don't fucking know what." she starts laughing. "I mean that family -what the fuck? right?"

"What the fuck what?"A male voice.  I look up. It's Edward. He looks looser, more comfortable. He's wearing a baseball cap and a navy regatta t-shirt. It's faded and he looks rich but more casual than I've ever seen him.

"Here sit down Edward. Sit with us. We got high. I've been wanting to get to know Annie."

He walks over and smiles at me. I see myself in the reflection of his mirror aviator glasses. "How you doing, Annie?"

"good."

I have that same awkward judgment of Edward that Jack has and yet here I was with him and Antoinette in their much, much cooler world.

"You did not tell me Annie was at Georgetown."

He raises his eyebrows. "How could I forget to tell you that." It is so flat it's not sarcastic or even that interested. I can see in that moment he came to spend the afternoon with Antoinette and I'm in the way of that.

"Mom sent me over to make sure you're alive."

I shake my head. "I'm alive." I was trying to be as charming and cavalier as Antoinette, but I fail. "Ok. I should go."

"Well come back Annie. Any time." She stands. "oh wait. Before I forget let me get you that Anne Patchett book." Before I can say no she rushes into the house.

Edward keeps his eyes on me. "How did I not know?" He asks "sorry about that."

"Know what?"

"That you were at Georgetown."

"you. knew."

"Really, I didn't."

"well no big deal."

"Sorry."

"No big deal." I say but somehow the way he's talking to me it makes me feel like I"m acting hurt-which I wasn't.

"She's cool. Right?"I say, half making fun of Antoinette, but affectionately. I only do because I'm high. 

"Right". He says it like she does. He makes that obvious. Also, not in a mocking way, in a sweet way.

"She's really cool." I say.

She comes back out with the paperback in her hand. "It is so beat up! Read it. See if it resonates with you the same way. Now, I wish I hadn't told you my feelings about the "meta" narration. I hope it won't distract you."

"It won't."

"Ok. All right. I'll see you later."

"Ok.Thanks."

Antoinette walks across the deck and kisses me on the cheek and give me a hug. She smells like banana boat sunscreen. It's pineapple and coconut.

I head back towards the beach and I look back once I'm near the shore. I see she's taken her cover up off. Edward is sitting on the lounge chair. I cant tell if he's looking at me or just the ocean but he keeps his head in my direction. I take another look at Antoinette who is laying on her back, sunbathing nude and writing in her journal.

It will take me two years to stop wanting to be Antoinette. The idea of Antoinette lingers, almost haunts me. If I could have, I would have become her She was enigmatic but maybe my fixation because of the temporal proximity to the trauma that's about to occur. The violent family storm, the acquaintance with Edward, the damage that will come to me in just a short time from that afternoon talking with Antoinette.