Girls of Summer(8)

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Lisa shot back. She concentrated on stirring her cocktail with its small ridiculous umbrella. “I’ve been dumped, completely. My ex-husband doesn’t even want to see our children—as if they have no worth to him.” Tears welled in Lisa’s eyes, so she picked up her cocktail, removed the damn umbrella, and tossed the whole drink down her throat. “I know I don’t.”

“Oh, dear Lord, we’ve been over this a hundred thousand times. Erich’s an asshole. He’s a narcissist, he’s not capable of loving.”

“He was very—” Lisa began.

   Rachel interrupted. “He was a con man. He thought he could make you his puppet, and when that didn’t work, he dismissed you and went on to another act. But, Lisa, you are more than what Erich thought of you. So much more.” Rachel reached over and took Lisa’s hand. “Honey, so many of your friends want to see you. I know you’ve been invited to join book clubs, and you should, and you should also show up at parties. Summer’s almost here. Think of the beach parties we’ll have.”

Sulkily, Lisa said, “I can’t go to a party alone.”

Rachel lost her patience. “Oh for God’s sake.” She dropped Lisa’s hand. “Of course you can. Or go with Buddy and me. You’ve got to start dating again.”

Lisa shook her head. “I’m not ready to date.”

“It’s been two years.”

“I’m not ready.”

“You should see a therapist. Even take anti-depressants. You’re so gloomy, you’re depressing me.”

Lisa lost her temper. “Rachel, you’re a good friend to put up with me. But you need to stop this. Please believe me, I have no interest in men. None.” She didn’t share her deepest thought, her greatest fear: that no one would be interested in her.

“All right, then,” Rachel said. “At least get a job.”



* * *



—

There are times in our lives when we would simply sink beneath the waves of our sorrows, the tides of our fears, and drown in our own misery, if it weren’t for our friends. Later, Lisa would realize just how amazing Rachel had been, what a loyal, generous, loving friend, to stick with Lisa when she was in her most unattractive and pathetic moods, to coax her back out of the bleak cave of her darkness into the light.

Lisa owned her home free and clear, and Erich’s child support paid for the necessities, so Lisa didn’t need to work, and she knew that in this she was fortunate. But she also realized what Rachel had said was right: She needed to get a job.

   Nantucket had several fine art galleries, and the Nantucket Whaling Museum and the Atheneum had some valuable paintings, but Lisa felt sad when she remembered her days at the women’s museum in Washington. She’d been happy there, and optimistic, young and part of the world.

But now, forty-two years old, divorced and dumpy—because even if she didn’t look totally dumpy, she certainly had been dumped—right now it often took courage for her to leave the house. During their last few meetings to discuss the divorce, Erich had told her he had come to realize she could never be glamorous. That she had fooled him in college, being pretty enough to seem like she could become beautiful and sophisticated. Instead, she became dowdy and provincial. Those words did not vanish from her mind or her heart. They were there when she looked in the mirror. They were there when she dried herself after a bath. They were there when she walked down Main Street, hiding her eyes behind sunglasses. She was terrified that she’d see pity in the eyes of the people she’d known as a child. A glance from a man made her heart flap with fright.

It took all of her courage to apply for a job. One evening in Lisa’s living room, when Rachel had dropped by for a drink and the children were bonded to their one hour of watching TV, Rachel told her that Vestments, the year-round women’s clothing store owned by Vesta Mahone, needed a new sales clerk.

“You’d love working there,” Rachel insisted. “Playing with all those gorgeous clothes.”

“They are gorgeous clothes,” Lisa agreed. “I’m not sure I have the right…qualities…to work there.”

“What are you talking about?” Rachel put her glass down on the table so hard it almost shattered. “Honest to God, Lisa, sometimes I get so angry with you! And you know what else, you make me tired. You are so feeble, so pathetic, and you were never that way before your divorce. Did Erich abuse you? Did he hit you?”

   “Of course not.” Lisa tried to laugh. “I’m sorry if I seem—”

“STOP IT!” Rachel yelled. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. Stop whining. Lisa, you know what? You aren’t the person you used to be. I miss you, the real you.”

Lisa nodded. “I get that. I think the divorce pulled the rug out from under me, Rachel. It was the last thing I was expecting. It made me feel…inferior.”

“Fine, but that divorce was two years ago. Look. I think you should see someone.”

Lisa laughed, almost hysterically. “I am so not ready to date.”

“I meant a therapist.” Rachel was adamant. “I think you should take that job at Vestments and start seeing a therapist.”

Lisa shook her head. “If I see a therapist, everyone on the island will know I’ve got emotional problems.”