On the Rocks(89)

Lara and Grace both turned to stare at me, but neither of them spoke. Apparently, it was still too early for humor. Noted.

“For what it’s worth,” Grace said quietly, “if I could do it over again, I’d do things differently. I guess at this stage it’s easier for me to be in the position I’m in if I don’t put a name or a face to the woman at home. You kind of made that impossible. It’s a lot to think about.”

“I guarantee you she’s put a face to you. And has probably thrown darts at it.”

“Interesting. And I guess I deserve that.”

Lara shrugged. “Regardless, it has nothing to do with me, and I’m really sorry. I’d like to be friends if you’ll forgive me.”

“I don’t know if the woman scorned and the woman who scorns can really ever be friends. It’s like cats and dogs sleeping together. It’s unnatural.”

Lara laughed. “I’d like to try, if for no other reason than I’d love to hear more about Abby’s dating project. I think she’s exaggerating some of this stuff.”

“Is that so?” I asked, not sure I wanted them to unite and join forces against me. This may have been a very bad idea.

“You know,” Grace said, warming a little, “if you really want to know about her dating project, you should ask Bobby. He’ll sing like a canary.”

I lay back on my giant yellow beach chair and felt every muscle in my body relax. I removed my sunglasses, closed my eyes, and enjoyed doing absolutely nothing. “That’s true, for some reason that I don’t yet fully understand, making fun of me is one of Bobby’s favorite pastimes.”

“Maybe he likes you,” Lara said. Grace and I turned to stare at her.

“What? What on earth would make you say that?” I asked.

“Maybe teasing you is his way of showing you he likes you. There’s this little boy I see at the park in town all the time, and he’s constantly kicking this one poor girl. I think he has a crush on her. Not that beating her up is a good thing, but it’s typical kid behavior. Maybe Bobby’s a shin-kicker.”

“He’s not a shin-kicker. That’s ridiculous,” I said.

“Maybe Lara’s right, Abby. Don’t get me wrong, Bobby drives a lot of people crazy for fun, but maybe him picking on you is his way of flirting.”

“I liked it much better when you two hated each other,” I joked.

“Oh, stop,” Grace said. “I’ll admit that his methods are immature for a grown man, but regardless, it’s flirting. You teach kindergarten. You should be familiar with this kind of behavior. Of course, when five-year-olds do it, it makes sense. When a thirty-three-year-old does, it’s like learning about a new species on the Discovery Channel.”

“We’re just friends. Is that so hard to believe?” They didn’t respond, like it was actually that hard to believe. This was pointless. “Can we talk about something else, please?” I begged.

“Okay,” Lara said as she turned to leave. “I should get going anyway. I just wanted to apologize, Grace. Maybe we can get drinks sometime.”

Grace stood and dropped her sunglasses on her towel. “I have a better idea. It’s way too nice a day to leave the beach. Stay for the sunset. I’m going to take a dip. Do you want to come?”

“Are you going to try and drown me?” Lara asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“Awww, this is great. Everyone is friends again, I wish I had a camera,” I said, surprising myself at how much like Bobby I sounded.

They turned and headed toward the water, and I breathed a sigh of relief that they were able to make amends. If poking fun at me and Bobby was what helped bridge their differences, then that was a small price to pay.





Chapter 22



Let’s Go Hammer Ourselves




I NEVER THANKED Bobby for following me home the night Ben surprised me at the bar, or even acknowledged that I knew he was there. Instead, I stopped complaining about him raiding our fridge and picked up extra packs of cigarettes for him when I was in town. These were small gestures that, like him walking me home, I hoped said things better than words ever could.

A few weeks later, on a particularly hot August Thursday, the boys and I spent the morning paddle-surfing—or more accurately, Wolf and Bobby paddle-surfed while I tried in vain for the better part of an hour to pull myself onto the board. Water sports were never my thing, but I still figured that counted as exercise for the day. You’d be surprising how strenuous it is to suck at surfing.

After a few hours we left the beach, and Wolf went home and took a nap. Bobby and I were sitting on the couch, talking about the pros and cons of men using hair gel, when Grace appeared at the screen door, her eyes bloodshot, her hair mussed, and her nails bitten down to the quick. You didn’t need a crystal ball to know who was responsible.

“I broke up with him. It’s over. This time it’s really over. I just put in for every vacation day I have for the rest of the year and got the hell out of Boston. I need a drink,” she said as she barged in, slamming the screen door so hard that it ricocheted against the wall before shutting.

I knew I’d never forget where I was when I heard this news, like my mother felt about Kennedy being shot, and Bobby felt about The Girls Next Door being canceled. Everyone has those defining moments in his life.