Summer of '69(44)

“You’re right,” he said. “I was on the phone with Trixie while we were in Bermuda. And I went to see her the day you came to my office.”

Blair felt like she’d been blindsided; even though this was what she’d suspected, it came as a fresh pain to hear him say it.

“Now, I’ve told you the truth and I’d like you to return the favor, please. Have you been carrying a torch for Joey all this time?” Angus laughed unhappily. “I mean, I saw the two of you in the act. In our home. So obviously the answer is yes.”

Blair was at a loss for words; she didn’t know where to start. Angus’s confession was straightforward: Yes, he’d been with Trixie. But Blair wasn’t sure what had just happened with Joey. Did she have feelings for him? There was no denying there was a physical connection, but Blair thought that was because she had been so lonely—and so, so angry. Angus had stripped away Blair’s personhood bit by bit. He’d made her quit her job, and now, with this pregnancy, she’d lost not only her body but also her autonomy. Angus expected her to stay home and keep house and prepare the meals. She had faithfully done that while also serving as an incubator for their children. But Angus had given Blair nothing in return—not his time, not his affection, not an apology, not a word of praise or thanks.

“You’re never home,” Blair said. The words sounded pale and limp, but that lay at the heart of the matter. She and Angus never did anything together anymore because Angus was always at work—or, apparently, with Trixie. Someone else was getting the best parts of him—either Trixie or his students or the U.S. government.

“I think you should go to Nantucket and wait out the rest of your pregnancy there,” Angus said.

Blair was too proud to show him how this statement wounded her. “Nantucket?” she said. “How do you propose I get there? I certainly can’t drive in my condition.”

“I’m sure Joey will take you,” Angus said. “Pack your things.”



Joey has taken the entire day off from work and he even brought a picnic; it’s in a basket on the back seat. Near the exit for Plymouth, they pass an older gentleman driving a cherry-red Mustang convertible. He honks at them and gives them the thumbs-up, and Joey waves. Looking at Blair from the shoulders up, no one can tell Blair is pregnant. To the gentleman in the Mustang, Blair supposes, she and Joey look like any other young couple out for a ride.

Joey puts a hand on Blair’s knee and she considers removing it. Is he being a sweet brother-in-law and a good guy by driving her to Hyannis, or is he claiming her? Has she been handed off like a baton from one brother to the other? Blair doesn’t have to wonder what Betty Friedan would think about this; she already knows the answer.

At Blair’s suggestion, they don’t stop for lunch until they’re up over the Sagamore Bridge and on Cape Cod. Joey drives to Craigville Beach, where there are picnic tables overlooking the water. He spreads out a red-checkered tablecloth and then a lunch that was prepared by the chef at the Parker House: cold roast beef, soft rolls, hard-boiled eggs, pickles, coleslaw, sliced strawberries, and pound cake. Blair would like to say that being thrown out of her own home by her unfaithful husband has diminished her appetite, but in fact, she’s as hungry as ever. Joey watches with rapt attention as she devours a roast beef sandwich topped with sliced egg, coleslaw, and pickles—lots and lots of pickles!—and then cuts a thick slice of pound cake and smothers it with berries.

“My kingdom for some whipped cream,” she says.

Joey holds up a finger and Blair thinks he’s about to inform her she’s a spoiled brat, but instead he races down the beach to the ice cream concession. Blair squints to see him pulling coins out of his pocket, and the next thing she knows, Joey is headed back toward her, holding a can of whipped cream. He sets it next to her plate.

“Ask and you shall receive,” he says. “Go crazy.”

This, Blair thinks, is what it feels like to be adored.



When they arrive at the ferry, Joey loads Blair’s suitcase onto the luggage rack and holds her arm as he walks her to the pedestrian ramp.

“I should take the ferry over with you,” he says.

“No, no,” Blair says. She can’t imagine her mother’s and grandmother’s expressions if they were to see Blair arriving on Nantucket with Joey Whalen instead of Angus. Her grandmother, especially, would be cross and confused, and there would be a lot of explaining to do. “You’ve done so much already. I’ll be fine.” She holds up a battered copy of The House of Mirth, which she brought for the ferry crossing. She has read it half a dozen times; it’s her literary security blanket.

Joey takes the book from her and inspects it. “Edith Wharton,” he says. “I should read this. That’s how Angus won you over, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Joey,” Blair says. She stands on her tiptoes and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips.

He says, “I’ll let you get settled over there and then I’ll come see you.”

“More than likely, I’ll return to Boston next week,” she says. What she means is that she will return when Angus comes to his senses and begs her to come home.

Joey grins. “That would be great!” He hugs Blair close and hard, so hard Blair fears for the babies, and then, after a final squeeze of her hand, he heads back to the car.