Nina and I were peeking at the girlfriends’ social media feeds (models, predictably) when my phone vibrated. At the sight of my sister’s face on the screen, my chest tightened, and I stared at my phone, unable to move.
Nina squeezed my shoulder. “Take it. I can cover for you.”
I nodded and stepped into the Sky Lounge, the phone still vibrating in my hands. Despite the five years between us, my sister and I had always been close. She was more than a sister to me, really. Beth had become the mother ours couldn’t be after Dad died, taking me in when I was sixteen. I’d lived with her; her husband, Mark; and their kids for six years, until I moved to Florida at Beth’s urging. She’d wanted me to go to college, but I’d ended up bartending instead. But now, my sister had experienced an unspeakable tragedy. We all had. And I had no idea what to do or say to be there for her.
“Joey,” Beth said when I answered. “Are you ready?”
I sighed into a sleek white love seat, relieved Beth wasn’t already crying. Half our phone calls started with her in tears these days. Out onthe sun deck, the primary passed his empty glass to Nina with a grimace. No doubt about it, I was ready for charter season to end.
“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”
“Do you need me to send anything?”
Odd question, but then again, nothing had been normal with Beth lately. “I’d love it if you could send me some sanity. These guests are horrendous.”
“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do. I still can’t believe he paid almost two hundred bucks for a pair of plain white briefs.”
“You don’t even want to know what the leopard-print ones cost.”
Beth laughed, but it was thin and false, not the throaty cackle I’d always teased her for. I grabbed a nautical-themed pillow from beside me and hugged it to my chest. “How are you? Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” Beth said, but her voice wavered. “No, actually. Things between me and Mark aren’t great. That’s why we need this break.”
Break?I squeezed the pillow harder. Mark and Beth on a break? They’d been together since freshman English class in high school. Then Beth got pregnant their senior year, the year Dad died, and they got married right after graduation. Despite it all, they were the happiest couple I knew, at least until Samson died and the fighting started. But a break? I couldn’t fathom it.
“I didn’t know things were that bad,” I said.
Beth sighed. “We wouldn’t need this time alone if they weren’t. I wanted to be the one to tell you, in case the girls bring it up.”
I tried to imagine Beth’s daughters—Mia, sixteen, and Kitty, thirteen—calling me to vent about their parents’ marriage. The girls and I were close. Samson and I had been even closer. All three of them had visited me every summer since I’d moved to Florida. In between visits we video chatted and sent each other memes, but I wasn’t sure we were vent-about-their-parents’-marriage close.
“I’m sorry, B.” I snapped a loose thread from the white-embroidered anchor on the pillow. “I love you, no matter what happens. Mark too.”
“I know,” Beth sighed. “And thanks, Jo. You’ll call if anything comes up?”
“Of course,” I said, thinking she was talking about the girls reaching out to me about her and Mark.
“This will be hard, but I think it’ll be good for all of us,” she said.
I bit my lip, not so sure I agreed. How did she and Mark splitting up make an awful situation better? They’d lost so much already. But it wasn’t my job to tell her what to do. My role was to be the supportive little sister.
A shadow fell across the room, and I looked up, spotting Nina in the doorway. She gave me aneverything good?look, and I managed a weak smile.
“Listen, B. I’ve got to go. I love you.” I hung up, taking my time to slip my phone in my pocket so I could avoid looking at Nina.
“How’s Beth?” Nina asked when she sat down beside me.
“She’s fine.” I passed her the couch pillow and stood, crossing the room. “Just checking in.”
“And everything’s good?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“You don’t look like everything’s fine.”
“Is it time for the beach picnic?” I turned to the sun deck. The guests milled around the hot tub, towels at their waists, their drink glasses filled. “Did the primary complain about your gin fizz–making skills too?” I tried to laugh, but my throat was thick with emotion, and I blinked back tears, angry with myself. I hadn’t cried in front of anyone since the night my mother, whom I rarely spoke with, called to tell me about the accident. Shouldn’t I be able to talk about this without falling apart by now? My pain over Beth’s marriage, the loss of her son, it could be nothing compared to hers. Didn’t I owe it to her to keep myself together?
Nina tilted her head, watching me. Why was she wasting time sitting there? What if the primary needed his underwear ironed again?
