“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a combination of all the clear liquors—gin, vodka, tequila, and rum, with lemonade mixed in,” Gilda said.
“Isn’t that a Long Island Iced Tea?” I shook my head. “I don’t have good memories of those.”
Mindy held it up. “I thought that was made with Coke.”
“And lemon juice. It’s my husband’s twist, no cola, only lemonade,” Gilda said.
Gilda offered me a sip from her cup. I brought it to my nose and my stomach flipped. “No thanks, I’ll stick to gin.”
“What does your husband call this concoction?” Bethany asked.
Gilda shrugged. “I don’t think he named it.”
“I know, let’s call it Jungle Juice,” Mindy said. “Cheers to Gilda and the mixologist she married!”
There was a text message from Ronnie:I have an appointment near Woodlands next week. Maybe we can meet. Call me.
Hearing from him at all was surprising. The fact that he was making time for me was shocking. When I had driven out of NYC last month, we had barely been civil to each other. It wasn’t only our arguments about camp, we had been fighting about anything and everything. I thought I had made it clear that I wasn’t going to contact him, and he shouldn’t call me. We had agreed that the next time we’d see each other would be Visiting Day at camp, two weeks away. I wondered if this was some kind of grand gesture, making me a priority,orif he wanted to start divorce proceedings. I used to know how he would react and how he felt about any situation, but over the past few years I had lost all insight into his inner thoughts.
I decided to call him from the privacy of Bethany’s room.
“Lori, how are the girls?”
“We’reall doing really well. I got to see Zelda and Hazel play softball, and Hazel is in the play. They both have good—”
“I don’t have much time to talk right now. Let me tell you what I’ve planned. One of my clients is only about an hour away from the camp. So, I thought after my appointment we could meet for dinner and have the conversation I’ve been putting off.”
“We’ve had so many unfinished conversations. I don’t even know which one you’re referring to.”
“That’s why I really want to sit down with you face-to-face before Visiting Day.”
“Can you give me a clue?”
“Not now, I have my client waiting on the other line.”
Seeing him probably wasn’t a good idea, but my curiosity won out. “Okay, sure.”
“Great, I’ll send you the details. I gotta run. Love you.”
Love you—did he mean it or was it just the perfunctory words you’re required to say to your spouse, especially when you’re in a bad place? Was it possible that since I’d been away, he realized how much he loved and missed me and wanted to fix things between us?
One of our open-ended conversations was about marriage counseling. He couldn’t have been more inconsiderate when I suggested it.
“I barely have time to take a crap. I don’t see how I can fit in a weekly meeting.”
I was trying my best to keep our family together because Zelda and Hazel worshipped their dad.
Ronnie’s next message said we had reservations at the fancy restaurant in town, and I should meet him at the bar at 8:00 p.m. I think the last time we’d met at a bar was before Zelda was born. He had liked pretending we were strangers, and he was picking me up. I showered and primped, tweezing and shaving for the first time since I got to camp. I didn’t need any makeup because I was tan. I wore a sundress, which surprisingly hung loosely on my frame. It was a relief not having to spritz myself with bug spray after my shower. I put the key in the ignition and wanted to feel optimistic, but all I felt was trepidation.
At 7:45 p.m., I slid onto a stool in the middle of the empty, dimly lit bar and ordered a glass of Sancerre. The decor reminded me of a speakeasy, old and elegant, a relic from a different era. While I nursed my drink, I rehashed conversations we’d had as I heard the ticks from the gilded clock above the bar.
Ever since Ronnie had made partner, his priorities had shifted. He would try to be home to have dinner with us whilewe ate dessert, then as he took on bigger, more high-profile cases, we were lucky if he was home in time to tuck in the girls.
At first, I hadn’t noticed the subtle changes. It was a new cologne a coworker turned him onto. Then it was his wardrobe. One day he came home wearing a cashmere sport jacket I’d never seen before.
“I usually have to coax you to go shopping, and now you went without me?”
