Family of Liars(32)

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THE EARLY MORNING boat excursion ends up being just me, Pfeff, Major—and Penny, who turns up on the dock at the last minute, holding a warm strawberry sheet cake with a tea towel and wearing a bikini and an old plaid flannel shirt that belongs to Harris.

“Erin wouldn’t get up,” she says. “Lazy wench.”

“Is that cake?” asks Major.

“It’s just out of the oven,” says Penny. “I might have stolen it.”

“Doesn’t Tipper want that for after supper?” I ask.

“I dunno,” says Penny, shrugging. “She wasn’t in the kitchen.”

We motor out, Pfeff driving. The boys have towels and thermoses. Penny and I share my thermos of coffee. Or rather, she takes it from me without asking, drinks half of it, and sets it down between her feet.

When we get out a ways, Pfeff cuts the motor. “This is it,” he says.

And we sit. Feeling the glow of the early sun. Watching some seagulls overhead. Beechwood seems far away.

“It’s kinda boring,” says Penny, after a few minutes.

“Well,” says Major. “It helps when you’re high.”

Penny slaps his leg. “Are you high?” she says. “Like right now, before breakfast?”

“Maybe,” says Major, laughing.

“Just a little,” says Pfeff. “To better appreciate nature.”

“So this is a wake-and-bake situation,” says Penny.

“It just—everything seems so much brighter.” Pfeff grins.

“God, they’re delinquents,” says Penny.

She stands and shrugs off her flannel, then jumps into the sea. Major pulls off his sweatshirt and does the same. “Oh hell,” he shouts when he surfaces. “So cold.”

“It always is,” says Penny. “It’s the stupid ocean, city boy.”

I watch them paddle around for a minute.

“You going in?” asks Pfeff.

“Too chilly this morning.”

He nods. We sit in silence. “Hey, Carrie,” says Pfeff, finally. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Yeah. All right.”

“Well. Once upon a time, Baby Lawrence Pfefferman, that’s me, was given his dad’s name, which was his grandfather’s name. So I’m Lawrence the third. And they called me Lor, ’cause my dad was Larry and my grandad was Lawrence. And that was the idea, you see? That I would be like them.”

“Okay.”

“So. Lawrence the first went to Amherst and became a lawyer. And Larry went to Amherst and became a lawyer. And when Baby Lor got big, they wanted him to go to Amherst.”

“And become a lawyer.”

“Well, they’re open to a few other professions. But that’s the general idea.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Well,” says Pfeff, “you’ve made it pretty clear that you think I’m a butthead.”

I shrug. I do think that. But I still find him magical, and funny. I still want to touch him any time he’s this close to me.

“There are extenuating circumstances,” he adds.

“Did Sybelle tie you up so you couldn’t get to the dock in Edgartown?” I ask. “Because ‘I decided to spend the afternoon fornicating in a historic landmark house’ is not really an extenuating circumstance.”

He laughs. “That’s not it. I just— Look. I’m a bogus student.”

“So?”

“I don’t like school. I want to—I don’t know, I want to travel. I’d like to go to Mexico or Italy, and learn the language, and just meet people. I would get off on eating some nice food, hanging out with friends. It’s not that I don’t want to work. I don’t mind work, actually. Last year I bussed tables at this burrito bar on weekends, and the days were long, and people yelled at me, but I was into it—the scene at the restaurant, the rush of customers.”

At this point, Penny climbs wetly up the ladder, followed by Major. “Oh my god,” she says. “You don’t need to be high for that to be an amazing start to your day.” She grabs a towel and turns to me. “I feel like Supergirl now. Or Wonder Woman or whatever. Can I have your sweater?” I take it off and give it to her. She puts it on, wraps her towel around her waist, and picks up my thermos of coffee. “Why are we not doing this early morning thing?” she asks me. “Why did we have to wait for these bozos to think of it?”

“I need breakfast, now,” says Major. “Can we go back?”

“Oh!” Penny is delighted with herself and grabs the strawberry sheet cake, covered in foil, from its resting spot.

“Penelope,” says Pfeff. “I think I love you. Quite a lot, actually.”

“Don’t call me Penelope,” says Penny.

And just like that, I hate him all the way again. I think I love you. Does he really have to make every single person adore him? Does he have to flirt with everyone, including my sister? Quite a lot, actually. Is he trying to make me jealous?

I ignore Pfeff for the rest of the boat ride. We unwrap the pan and cut slices of cake with a Swiss Army knife. Vanilla batter with swirls of strawberry jam and small chunks of hot strawberry. Sticky. Fragrant. We eat and then motor back, Pfeff driving.