“You know what Charlie would say if he was here?”
She smiles at me. “What would thatfriendof yours say if he was here?”
I ignore her implication. “He’d tell you that you’re lucky to be alive at eighty, and even luckier to have one of your oldest friends on this earth. He’d tell you to reach out to him.”
“Funnily enough,” Nan says, “that’s almost exactly what he said.”
33
Tuesday, July 22
41 Days Left at the Lake
The strangest thing happens when I find the courage to call Elyse to tell her I want to withdraw my photograph from the show.
She’sthrilled.
“Good for you. I’m devastated I won’t have one of your pieces, of course, but you have to follow your intuition.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Of course not.” She laughs. “It’s about time you disagreed with me. Although, I do wish you’d have done it sooner. And I would still love to have you at the opening.”
“I’ll visit as soon as I’m back.” I don’t want to leave the lake a moment sooner than I have to. “And I’m sorry. I know how much you love that shot, but I want to go in a different direction. I’ve been playing around with some new stuff, and I might be onto something.” And as I say it, it’s like the click of a shutter. Iamonto something—something I want to keep chasing.
“Obviously I’m intrigued. You’ll show me when you’re ready?”
I promise I will.
“It sounds like this summer has been good for you,” Elyse says before we hang up. “You sound different.”
“I feel different,” I tell her. “I feel like I’ve woken up.”
Charlie and I spend our days together, floating on the lake, racing around in the boat, jumping from the rock. We discover a boulder on the other side of the boathouse, flat enough to lie on together, that’s very private. A secret spot. He leaves Nan and me to our sewing but comes back in the evenings for cards, puzzles, and one impassioned game of Monopoly. He’s as ruthless as a real estate mogul. We stay up long after Nan goes to sleep, talking until the moon hangs high above the water like a disco ball.
On Friday evening, I sit between Charlie’s legs on the boulder, looking over the water, my back resting on his chest. I turn my head to kiss him and find hesitation in his eyes. It’s often like this. He’ll pause for just a second, long enough that I know he is considering exercising restraint. But he never does. He’ll blink and press his mouth to mine with an urgency that’s almost staggering. Tonight, his lips move from my mouth to my shoulder as he draws lazy circles over my bathing suit top, then lower, with a maddeningly relaxed pace, slowing even further when I get close, until I’m shaking, almost in tears, whispering his name over and over.
We haven’t had sex. Charlie wants totake things slow, and I know it’s because he’s afraid of breaking this delicate thing we have. I won’t admit it, but it’s been kind of fun dragging it out. It’s sneaky and silly and just like I’m seventeen. Not that I was kissing anyone at seventeen.
But everything changes on Saturday. It’s Percy and Sam’s party, and things suddenly feel grown-up. I’ve pushed the adult world and the city aside, but now the city is coming to us.
I don my armor. I straighten my hair, securing it in a sleek ponytail at the nape of my neck, and it hangs to the middle of my back in a shining rope of auburn. I wear my tortoiseshell glasses and a black short-sleeved silk jumpsuit. I paint my lips and nails red.
When I examine my reflection in the mirror, I see a confident, stylish woman. The Alice I am when I’m shooting. But it feels like a mask.
“You should let your hair down,” Nan says as I’m buckling my sandals, the ones with a chunky heel and straps that wrap around my ankles in a way that is both complicated and decidedly sexy. They’re comfortable, and I have two pairs. I’m picky, but when I find something I love, I buy multiples. I go all in on everything, including footwear.
“Do you mean that literally?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “But now that you mention it, why do you have it pulled back so tight? You haven’t worn it like this all summer.”
“Does it look bad?”
“You look beautiful, Alice. You always do.”
“Thank you.” I unslouch my shoulders to mimic hers. “It would be a good night to use that phone.” I’ve written John’s number on a piece of paper and left it on the counter. “You’ll have privacy,” I add.
“We’ll see.”
