The Hopefuls(52)

“It is,” I said.

“It will be exciting for him at the Facebook.”

I smiled at Celeste, wondering when she’d found out about the job. I imagined Ash telling her about the interview weeks earlier, unable to keep it in. And when Celeste said, “It’s going to be very big,” as she ran her dustcloth over our shelves, I just nodded and said, “Very big.”

—

When the Dillons told us that April that they were moving, I cried. Ash did too, and we hugged like we were never going to see each other again. But to be honest, there was a part of me that felt relieved, that thought maybe it would be better for us if we didn’t spend so much time with them. They were just so lucky, so charmed. Everything was working out for them, life was unfolding exactly as it should—and most of the time, it seemed like it was all happening without any effort on their part. And when they sat and marveled at Viv and Jimmy talked about his new job, Matt and I would watch them, more aware than ever of what we didn’t have. Sometimes when we were around them, I’d feel a sharp sense of betrayal, like they’d left us behind.

But I never said any of this out loud. Instead, we went over to their apartment the night before they left, sat in a circle of lawn chairs (all of their furniture was gone), and drank vodka out of plastic cups. And at the end of the night, when we hugged good-bye, I said, “What are we ever going to do without you here?”





Chapter 12


I sat on the bed and watched Matt pack his suitcase, carefully, as he always did. He was an unusually slow packer, folding a shirt over and over to get it right, rearranging piles to make sure they fit just so. Usually, I teased him about it, sometimes setting a timer to see if he could set a new record. But he had the same look he’d had on his face for over a month now—mouth set in a straight line, eyebrows wrinkled like he’d just heard unpleasant news—and I knew he wasn’t in the mood for a joke.

“Are you bringing your running shoes?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking up.

“Okay. And you think we should leave by ten a.m. tomorrow?” At this, he just nodded. I waited a few seconds and then said, “You know, if you don’t want to go we can skip it. Or go later in the week.”

Matt looked up, surprised. “I never said I didn’t want to go.”

“I know. It’s just you seem…” I tried to find a nice way to say angry or annoyed.

“What?” he asked.

“I don’t know, never mind. It was just a suggestion.”

“Plus, we can’t skip it. My mom would have a heart attack.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

Matt’s parents spent most of the summer at their house in St. Michaels, Maryland, and during the third week of August the entire family joined them. Throughout the summer, Michael’s and Will’s families went up there other random weekends, and so did Meg, and sometimes even we did too. But Babs was firm on the fact that no matter what, she wanted everyone together for one week. No excuses.

This trip never really felt like a vacation to me, mostly because the Kellys weren’t the kind of family who slept in or sat around reading novels in the sun. They took boats out on the water, played badminton or football, organized tennis tournaments and swimming races. They never sat down. It was like spending a week at a weird adult athletic camp with highly competitive campers.

Matt had spent the whole summer focused on Dan Cullen’s senate seat, unable to let go of (what he kept calling) his missed chance. He was obsessed with what he should do next and it was almost impossible to have a conversation with him about anything else. Once, he even (God help us) used the word legacy. He kept mentioning classmates of his from Harvard (all wildly successful, of course) and comparing himself to them, like everyone he graduated with was going to think he was a failure.

Part of me thought he’d be calmer with the Dillons out of town, but it soon became clear that he missed being able to discuss his career with Jimmy and so I became his default sounding board on all things relating to Matt’s Career, and it was wearing on me. It was wearing on us. And I didn’t think a solid week with his family would help the situation.

“All done,” Matt said, zipping up his suitcase. “What about you?”

“Yep,” I said. “All packed and ready to go.”

—

We didn’t get on the road until almost 10:30 the next day, which I knew drove Matt crazy. It only took about an hour and a half to get there, but Matt liked to be the first to arrive, because in the Kelly family, even the drive to vacation could become a competition.

“We’ll be fine,” I said, when we got in the car. “There’s no rush to get there.” What I meant, of course, was I’m in no rush to get there. I picked up the coffee that Matt had gotten for me and took a sip. He’d added just the right amount of cream, and it tasted perfect. I drank my coffee and stared out the window, knowing that this would be the most peaceful part of my week, trying to savor the quiet.

I never considered myself to be unathletic until I started going to St. Michaels with the Kellys. I played volleyball in junior high and soccer in high school and maybe I wasn’t the best on the team, but I certainly wasn’t the worst. I was coordinated. I could stand upright and hit a ball. I played shortstop for the Vanity Fair softball team, for Christ’s sake.