55.
Rebecca
Brooke always sent actual paper invitations for her end-of-summer party, which Rebecca had to admit was classy. Most people believed that paper invitations deserved to go the way of the milk truck and earbuds with wires. Even so, when she opened the envelope her stomach clenched and she let out an involuntaryUgh.
Last year she had skipped the party altogether, and had been excused because she was still technically in mourning. This year, mourning would be a harder sell. But she didn’t want to go alone. She was tired of going places alone. She wanted to bring Daniel. At the same time, she didn’t want to bring Daniel.
Rebecca could write the script for the whole evening right now. There would be a signature cocktail that people would drink too fast. Eventually, some drunk husband would jump in the pool. There would be at least one scene of marital discord—or possibly two. An unhashed-through argument between friends might make its way to the surface.
Brooke’s children would watch all of the madness from their bedrooms windows, and the sight would cement in their minds the image of adults behaving badly, which they would then lay out as part of their defense when they were caught drinking or vaping weed in high school or (God forbid) middle school.
On a more positive note, the food would be superb, and there would be dancing.
Was that a positive note, though? Did anybodyreallyneed to see people over forty shaking it on the dance floor? Well, it was a note anyway.
I’ll be there!She hesitated, then scrawled on the card,Plus one.
56.
The Squad
Naturally Brooke told us that Rebecca had included a Plus One on her RSVP to the end-of-summer party.
Who was it?we wondered.
Esther said Rebecca would bring her Mystery Man. But Tammy and Melanie got all over her for that. If Rebecca had a man, why would he be a mystery? We’d never judge her for having a new man! We wouldn’t judge her for anything! We’re herfriends!
57.
Alexa
“Ready?” said Cam.
“Ready for what?” Alexa was wary. The last time Cam showed up at her door and asked if she was ready, he was on his way to pick her up for a brisk hike straight up Mount Major.
“For the water stop. Remember? Yankee Homecoming Ten-Miler? Mile five? I volunteered us. I’m positive you said yes.”
Alexa groaned. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
“You did,” Cam confirmed. “You definitely said yes.”
Yankee Homecoming was the big summer event in Newburyport. It lasted a week, with different events every day, and would culminate with fireworks on Saturday followed by a parade on Sunday. The Yankee Homecoming race was on the Tuesday evening before the fireworks and comprised a 5K and a ten-miler; it was almost always unbearably humid during the race.
“Can’t we at least do mile nine?” asked Alexa. Mile nine would be almost at the finish. It would be so much more interesting to watch people who were really close to achieving their goal than those who were seriously considering dropping out halfway through, just before the hills.
“Nope,” said Cam. “Mile five. It’s the best mile. It’s where people really need encouragement because they’re starting to falter. Here, put this on.” He handed her a shirt that saidrace volunteeron the back. Alexa couldn’t remember the last time she volunteered for anything, or wore an ill-fitting cotton T-shirt, but she put the shirt on. It hung down to her knees. “Sorry,” said Cam. “They were out of smalls by the time I picked them up. I had to get large for both of us. If it helps, you look hot in that.”
“It doesn’t help,” muttered Alexa, even though actually it did, a little.
Once they were set up with their supplies, Alexa peered down Merrimac Street, which was an asphalt wasteland. The sun was so bright and so high she couldn’t imagine running to the corner and back. She wished she’d thought to wear a hat. Most of the volunteers were wearing hats, and Alexa knew a brim suited her. Cam’s hat was from the Newburyport Brewing Company and had a picture of a greenhead on it, for the Greenhead IPA. The green of the hat did something wondrous to his brown eyes. She knew that if she asked, Cam would give her the hat right off his head. But if the old Alexa would have asked for the hat, the new Alexa would let Cam retain it. Moral growth!
After some time there rose a stir of excitement as the lead runner came toward them. There was a slight bend in the road before the five-mile point, and with the sun and the undulating heat he looked almost like a mirage. The people lining the street cheered. One volunteer held out a cup of water, but Cam leaned over to Alexa and said conspiratorially, “The first ten guys never take water. They’re too focused. They can’t break pace.”
He was right, but after the fastest people went by and the pace became somewhat normal, people were happy to have the water. Some of them even paused to say thank you, or at least to grunt pleasantly. Cam had prepared a string of helpful platitudes, and he said them over and over. “You can do it!” he said. “You’re stronger than you think you are! You’ve made it halfway! The worst is over!”
Alexa wasn’t sure that the worst was over at all (wasn’t a big hillcoming right after this very water stop?) but still she appreciated Cam’s optimism and she could tell that the runners did too. She found herself getting a little caught up in the excitement. When one man went for the cup and missed, spilling it all over Alexa, she jogged a few steps after him with a fresh cup. He was so grateful that she couldn’t help herself: she panted, “The worst is over!” She ran out of breath before she had a chance to add, “You can do it,” but she figured he got the point.
The number of runners decreased from hordes to large groups and eventually to a slow trickle. After some time the pace slowed even more and the stragglers started to pass by. Many of them stopped outright to take the water, and some walked a little before recommencing their slow jog. And then Cam said, “Isn’t that Tyler?”
