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Lena nodded. “But Daddy shouldn’t worry, should he?”
“Oh, no.” Ari shook her head emphatically. “Your father is a magnificent man and a fine father. Eugene is a fool. I look back at that heartbreak, and I feel like it was the best thing that could have happened.”
Ari looked significantly at her daughter. “And that, my love, is what I want you to remember.”
Tibberon: Talked to Lenny late. Awful, unbelievable shit. Have you talked to her yet?
Carmabelle: Just talked to her. Cannot even think. Poor, poor Lenny. What can we do? Stay there. I’m coming over.
Bridget knew it was time to get home. Now that she knew what was going on with Lena, she needed to be with her. On her last day in Burgess she lay with Greta on the back porch. They munched on ice cubes and talked about future home-improvement projects instead of saying good-bye.
And yet three o’clock still rolled around, and it was still time for Bridget to go.
Greta was being careful. She didn’t want to start the crying.
Bridget was never careful, so she said what she was thinking. “You know what, Grandma, if I didn’t have three friends I loved, I would stay here with you. This feels like home now.”
Greta started tearing up right on schedule. Bridget did too.
“I’ll miss you, honey. I really will.”
Bridget nodded. She hugged Greta maybe too hard.
“And you’ll bring your brother when you come at Christmas, you promise me?”
“I promise you,” Bridget said faithfully.
“Remember,” Grandma said in her ear when at last she let her go, “I’ll always be here loving you.”
After she gathered her things, Bridget turned around on the sidewalk to look at the house one last time. It had seemed so plain when she’d arrived, but it looked beautiful to her now. She could make out the shape of Greta standing inside the darkened front window. Her grandmother was crying hard, and she didn’t want Bridget to see.
She loved this house. She loved Greta. She loved Greta for her bingo on Monday and her TV on Friday and her lunch at twelve o’clock every single day.
Maybe Bridget didn’t have much of a home with her dad and Perry. But she had made herself a home here.
Lenny,
You’re still in Greece, so I know you won’t get this letter for a while, but I need to do something. I need to feel like I’m with you in some way.
I’m so sorry about Bapi. I cried for you this morning when I heard. You’ve always been steady, Len, and so good to messed-up me. I wish I could take care of you, for once.
All my love,
Bee
Two important things happened on Lena’s fourth and last day in Greece. The first thing was that Grandma gave Lena Bapi’s hideous white tasseled shoes, and amazingly, they fit Lena’s giant feet. Grandma looked aghast, like she hadn’t actually meant for Lena to put them on, but Lena was very pleased.
“I vas going to put them in the casket, but I thought you might like them, lamb.”
“I do, Grandma. Thank you. I love them.”
The second thing was that as night fell, Lena sat on the little wall outside her grandma’s house and made a painting for Bapi. She had the idea she would bury it with him.
It was the full moon hanging over the smooth Caldera that inspired her. She set out her paints and her panel and started uniting various blobs of paint into swirly night colors. She’d never made a painting in the dark before, and she probably never would again, because it was basically impossible.
But she managed to capture two glowing moons, the one in the sky and its twin in the water. They looked the same, and in her painting, they were the same.
As she was shoving around the mess of oils on her palette, she saw that Kostos had come to stand behind her and watch her work.
He watched very patiently for a man who had just ruined both their lives.
“Moony night,” he said to no one in particular, after he’d studied it for a long time.
It was funny, because that was just what she’d thought to call it, but fear of hubris had made her back down. She couldn’t connect anything of hers to Van Gogh, especially not to the painting of his she loved best of all. She thought about her mother and Eugene and wondered whether she would ever be able to think Kostos was a fool. She kind of doubted it.
“Bapi will love it,” he said.
Okay, she doubted it even more.
She willed herself not to cry again, and even more, willed her nose not to start flowing. She knew this was the last time she would see him maybe ever. She turned around and stood up to get a long, thirsty look at his face, to soak it in.
The night before, she had felt stifled and hostile and numb, but now, for whatever reason, she didn’t.
“Good-bye,” she said.
She realized he was drinking in the look of her just as thirstily. Her eyes, her hair, her mouth, her neck, her breasts, her paint-spattered pants, Bapi’s white shoes. It would have been entirely inappropriate if this had been hello and not good-bye. Maybe it was inappropriate even so.
“The things you said to me last night,” she began.
He nodded.
She cleared her throat. “Same here.”
She had to hand it to herself. She couldn’t have found a less poetic way of putting it.
He nodded again.
“I’ll never forget you.” She thought about that. “Well, hopefully, I’ll forget you a little.” She scuffed the toe of Bapi’s shoe. “Otherwise it will be awfully hard going.”
His eyes were full now. The corners of his mouth quivered downward.
She put her palette and her brush down on the wall. She rose up onto her very tiptoes, put her hands on his shoulders for balance, and kissed him on the cheek. No matter the placement, she kissed him like a lover and not like a friend. But maybe it could pass. He held her in his arms, harder and closer than he should have. He didn’t want to let her go.
A while after Kostos left, Effie appeared. She had her Walkman on, and she looked suspiciously disheveled.
“You sure cry a lot more than you used to,” Effie pointed out.
Lena could almost have laughed. “And you found the waiter, didn’t you?”
Effie shrugged coyly. Of course Effie could take up last summer’s love interest as though no time had passed. Effie could revel in a robust make-out session and when it was time to leave, she could bid her crush good-bye, no worse for wear.
Lena studied her sister in amazement. Effie was bobbing her head around to some dumb song coming through her earphones.
Different people were good at different things, Lena mused. Lena was good at writing thank-you notes, for instance, and Effie was good at being happy.
We are born not once, but again and again.
—William Charles
Bridget had wanted to carry her bags the quarter mile to the bus station, but when B
illy suddenly appeared next to her on the sidewalk and took the two heavy ones, she wasn’t mad.
“I wish you weren’t going,” he said.
“They need me at home,” she said. “We’ll see each other around, though.”
She looked at Billy standing there in the bus station, holding her bags, wishing she weren’t going. He liked her, she felt sure. She watched him for signs of physical yearning. She wanted that, didn’t she? She liked herself enough again to feel like she deserved it.
But she wondered. Did she really want that? Hadn’t she had enough boys look at her that way? Would she partly hate him if he changed the way he liked her because she was pretty and blond?
Anyway, he wasn’t looking at her like that. He was looking at her like she was Bee, who he’d known since he was six. He was looking at her the way he looked at her when she screamed at him on the soccer field. Wasn’t he?
He touched the soft underpart of her wrist.
Or was he?
She’d thought the Bee she’d been when she was six and the Bee she was now were a world apart, separated by her tragedies. She’d thought the Bee who was his friend and the Bee who was his potential crush were different and opposite girls. Now she wasn’t sure what she thought.
But when he kissed her full on her lips, he sent a tingle from her hair to her toenails, and she knew she liked it.
In a flash of wonderment she saw firm, continuous ground under her feet, stretching from back then to right now and on and on as far as her eyes could take her.
It was a pretty weird idea, actually. But Carmen had always liked things that went around and came around. Her mother was out with David being happily ever after. Carmen had done her penance, spending her days worrying about Lena and watching her mother be joyful. She’d had a lot of time to devote to it too, since the Morgans were spending these last two weeks of the summer at the beach.
Porter had left a couple of messages the week before inviting her to some jock party in Chevy Chase. So Carmen figured maybe now that she’d gotten herself straightened out about her mom, she could start to like him for real.
