Family of Liars(28)

“Shut up. You know I would not.”

“Major asked if I wanted to take the kayaks out,” says Erin. “Did I tell you?”

“No.”

“Well, he did. Do you think he’s into me?”

“No,” says Penny again.

“I’m asking Carrie,” says Erin. “Carrie, do you think Major could be into me? Because of the kayak idea, or whatever else, like if you noticed him looking at me?”

I have finished my sandwich, and take the plate over to rinse it in the sink. “Are you into him?” I ask Erin. “Because my opinion is that he would be lucky to get anywhere near you.”

“I don’t know,” says Erin. “I like red hair.”

“Major is gay,” says Penny.

“He is not.” Erin widens her eyes.

“He told me he was. His parents are like hippies or something, so they’re fine with it and he’s just open,” Penny explains. “So be into him all you want, but it’s not going anywhere.”

Erin looks skeptical. “Major confided in you?”

“It wasn’t like, a secret,” says Penny. “It’s just a thing he mentioned.”

“Apropos of what?”

“Apropos of nothing. He told a story about a guy he used to go out with. And then when I asked, he said his mom is super spiritual and meditates and everything—and ‘love is love,’ that’s her philosophy.”

I didn’t know that about Major. I have never met anyone else who is openly gay.

“Well, I’m glad you two are so cuddly,” says Erin. “Maybe you should go in the kayaks with him. Be best friends.”

“Oh my god, Erin,” says my sister. “Finish your cake and let’s go to sleep. I think I got too much sun. I’m wicked tired.”

Erin laughs. She stands up and turns to me. “Pfeff spent the afternoon boning that girl,” she says.





30.


WHEN I GET to my room, Rosemary is there, wearing her cheetah suit. She is petting Wharton, who is curled up on the rug, tuckered out after a day of running around with the other dogs.

The suit was given to Rosemary on her ninth birthday by one of her friends. Basically, pajamas with feet, the kind we used to wear as kids. But it has a tail and a hood with ears. When she was alive, Rosemary wore it all winter, to sleep in. Now she’s waiting on my bed, with the hood up. The shiny fabric is worn thin at the elbows. “Hi!” she says brightly. “Wanna watch Saturday Night Live?”

“What?”

“It started at eleven-thirty. I checked the TV guide.”

“We can’t do that,” I say. “People are down there.”

“They’re watching it without me?”

“Mm-hm. Bess is. And Tipper and Harris are still on the porch.”

“But I’ve never seen it.”

“Buttercup,” I say. “We can’t go join them. Can we?”

“No.” She heaves a sigh, then lightens her tone. “I’m not here to hang out with Bess, anyway. Just you, you, you.”

I start changing for bed.

“I would like to see it someday though,” she goes on. “I don’t think I should be dead and never know what everyone is always talking about.”

“?’Kay. We will try to make that happen.”

“Next week?”

“Sure. We can try.”

“All right. Want to play Kings in the Corner?”

Ugh. I have so many emotions churning through me, because of the trip to Edgartown.

“It’s a short game,” adds Rosemary.

I can’t pretend to enjoy a card game. I just can’t. “I’m beat,” I say. I put on an old tank top and pajama pants.

“Just one round? I’ll let you win.”

“No, buttercup. Let me brush my teeth and I’ll snuggle with you.”

I take a Halcion and braid my hair loosely. I open one of my windows wide and turn on the fan. When I finally get in the bed, Rosemary turns her back to me and I spoon her fuzzy cheetah self.

She breathes slowly. We listen to the fan whir in the window. We can hear waves hitting the shore.

Rosemary’s hand grows limp beneath mine. She seems to be falling asleep.

“You know what would make this better?” she says softly.

“What?”

“If we were watching Saturday Night Live,” she says.

“You’re terrible,” I say. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Picture it. Snuggle snuggle, plus TV.”

“Not happening.”

“?’Kay, not that,” she says. “Oh. Know what else would make it better?”

“What?” I wonder if she is trying to tell me what she needs. Why she’s here. Haunting me.

“If Wharton got a cheetah suit.”

I laugh. “Wharton dressed as a cheetah?”

“She would love it,” says Rosemary. “She wants to be a cheetah.”

“All three dogs in cheetah suits.”

“No, no. Albert and McCartney don’t want to be cheetahs. They don’t have any aspirations.”

“Big word.”