“One of my tennis clients told me that William regularly preysupon single, rich women and uses them for their money. That yacht apparently isn’t even his. Bunny bought it, but he convinced her to give over the deed for what he claimed were ‘tax purposes.’ She’s been trying to fight him in court.”
William stands frozen, only his eyes moving frantically, like he’s a cornered animal searching for a path to escape. “Rose, don’t listen to them.”
My mom, to my astonishment, doesn’t yell or cry or even look horrified. Rather, she just laughs.
“You thought I had money?” she asks, incredulous.
William must finally decide the jig is indeed up, because his shoulders slouch and he sighs. “You have a house on Nantucket. What do you mean? Of course you have money.”
Mom laughs harder this time, nearing hysteria. She bends over and tries to catch her breath. I wonder if she’s lost it, if the drama of the day has cracked her open and done irretrievable damage to her psyche.
“Yes, I’m lucky enough to have inherited a small cottage in ’Sconset, but that’s pretty much all the assets I have,” she says between laughs. “I’m a community therapist.”
I remember William encouraging her to sell the house and leave the island. This must be why. He always intended to use the profits for himself.
“Rose.” William reaches toward her. “You must know that my feelings were real. Whatever misconceptions I had about your financial situation, I care for you. I… well, I love you.”
Mom cringes away from his touch, her laughter replaced by a disgusted scowl. “Oh, give it up, already! I was trying to break up with you before my speech regardless.” That explains his sullen expression, trailing after her before she took the podium. “This just makes my decision easier. Now, get the fuck out of my face.”
This might be the only time in my entire life I’ve heard my mom curse, and I feel a certain pride. Theo and I clap as William slinks off, like a dog with his tail between his legs.
When he’s gone, I stand and offer my mom a high five. “Go, Mom!”
Rose ignores the gesture. “You, get in the car. We’re going home.”
On the ride home, Rose and I don’t say a word. Aunt Elizabeth and my grandfather decide to stay out later. Apparently, they ran into old friends from Branford. They said something about “going for a nightcap at Gaslight.” We sit in the dark of the car. The fog has turned to rain, and the windshield wipers squeak against the glass, emphasizing the quiet. I didn’t show Mom the scratch on the bumper yet. That particular reckoning can wait.
“How did the rest of the night go?” I ask. “I mean after the speech. Were you able to keep going once the fight was broken up and we went outside?”
“How do you think it went?” says Rose. I’ve never heard my mom sound so cold.
“I’m really sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am—”
“Can we just not tonight? I’m exhausted. Let’s just sit in the silence.”
The rain is coming down hard, crashing onto the roof. Headlights flash by, blinding us. Nantucket is unrecognizable in this weather. The island changes during a storm. You realize how isolated it truly is, a sand bank thirty miles out to sea, an anomaly, a miracle. I consider warning my mom to watch out for deer but decide against it. Rose doesn’t need the kinds of warnings I need. She always knows what to do.
“I just, I need you to know how incredibly sorry I am. You’re the most important person in the world to me and I just—”
“Please! Lily.” Rose’s voice cracks. “Please. Enough. Can you respect this one thing? I just want to be in silence.”
I stop talking, staring out the window at the dark, unknown shapes.
Rose breaks her own vow of silence first. “I just can’t believe you would act so irresponsibly. I love you, Lily. You know that. But you have to grow up.”
“Mom, that’s not fair,” I beg, but I know she’s right. Tears glide down my cheeks and into my mouth. They taste like the ocean. “I never wanted to hurt you like this.”
“Life is hard, Lily. The hits will keep coming and you’re not a kid anymore.”
The words sting on my skin, like I’m taking a physical lashing. “I know, I’m trying to be better. I made a mistake, that’s all.”
My mom’s knuckles are flexed around the wheel, turning white. “I mean you and Henry broke up so long ago. He’s getting married. And you wrote him some sort of letter this morning? What did you think was going to happen?”
The tears are coming faster than the rain outside. “I just wanted to leave everything on a positive note.”
“All of this fuss over Henry?” she says, staring at the road like it’s somehow to blame. “Why do you even care about him? He’s always been a spoiled brat.”
I’m confused. “What do you mean? You always liked Henry.”
