The Shadow Box(78)

Dan handed out more Coronas, and Griffin opened a bottle of tequila with a silver label. He had brought a lime, and he cupped it in the palm of his hand and cut it into slices with a bone-handled knife.

They began trading stories about colleges and hometowns, life in New England and inside the Capital Beltway, and the inevitable do-you-knows. Spencer’s freshman-year roommate had gone to the same boarding school as Ellen’s cousin; Marnie’s stepbrother had been wait-listed at Wesleyan—where both Griffin and Ellen went—but wound up at Trinity. Dan’s family used to go to Washington, DC, every spring vacation to visit his aunt, and it turned out she lived on the same Georgetown block as Marnie.

While Spencer listened to Dan and Marnie talk about Q Street and waiting in line for ice cream at Thomas Sweet, Griffin poured another round of shots and handed them around. The music mix was good. He reached for Spencer’s hand, but she glanced at Ellen and pulled it away. Wasn’t Ellen his girlfriend? Everyone but Ellen began to dance; Ellen sat on the blanket, watching. Griffin put his arm around Marnie and began to slow dance with her.

“Griffin told us he wanted to walk down by the water, take a swim,” Spencer said. “I told him no, there were sharks after dark. He kept saying he wanted to, and Dan joined in. Ellen didn’t say anything. Marnie really liked them, I could tell, and she said we could at least get our feet wet.”

So they all walked to the tide line, teasing the waves. The water hit their bare feet, exploding into a million bright stars—bioluminescent marine organisms that glowed at night. Spencer and Marnie had seen it happen every time they went down there for beach parties; the phenomenon always shocked and delighted kids on vacation from the north. The five of them held hands, dancing in the shallow water, kicking great sprays of water that showered them all in tiny saltwater stars.

“Dan, Marnie, and I were standing in the water, but Griffin and Ellen walked away, having an argument. That’s when I began to feel dizzy from the tequila,” Spencer said.

She went back to the blanket to lie down. She looked up at the sky. She said it was so dark there, without hotel or city lights, that the stars seemed to shower down around her, brushing her shoulders as they fell onto the sand.

The sound of the waves on the sand was rhythmic and beautiful, and she remembered thinking that this was why she and Marnie wanted to travel, to have magical nights like this, where everything came together in one peaceful, exciting, spontaneous, exotic moment. She knew she’d be hungover for her breakfast shift in the morning, but as soon as she could, she would start an article about the perfect beach party on a Yucatan night.

The beach began to spin; it felt like more than the alcohol, as if she’d been drugged. She closed her eyes and passed out for a few minutes. Or longer. She woke to the feeling of sweaty heat and the pressure of someone’s leg across hers. She wriggled to get out, but an arm held her down. Marnie was on her back beside her, thrashing beneath Griffin. Dan was holding Spencer down, his face close to hers. She tossed her head back and forth to keep him from kissing her.

She screamed and yanked her hands free, shoving his shoulders as hard as she could, punching his face. He grunted and hit her back, stunning her. Drunk as he was, he fumbled his way back. He tugged at the waistband of her panties, couldn’t manage to pull them down.

Dan was breathing heavily, telling her to hold still. She vomited into his face, and he jumped away, swearing.

Marnie was lying beneath Griffin, and he was holding her down, arms pinned to her side. Spencer saw Griffin’s naked buttocks, jeans down to his ankles. His chest pressed against Marnie’s face, but Spencer heard her muffled cries.

“He was raping her,” Spencer said. “I jumped on his back, smashing him with my fists as hard as I could, screaming for him to leave her alone.”

He roared at her, flinging her away. He reached up to rub his head where she’d yanked his hair. In that second Marnie rolled out from under him and began running down the beach. She disappeared into the darkness, but Spencer heard splashing and tore after her. She couldn’t catch up. By the time she reached the tide line, she saw Marnie diving into the sea.

“I dived in myself,” Spencer said. “But she was swimming so fast. I yelled for Ellen to help me, but she was up at the Jeep, looking the other way.”

“What about Dan?” I asked.

“He sat next to Griffin on the blanket as if nothing had happened. I was twenty yards offshore when Marnie disappeared—there was nothing but black water.”

There was not even a ribbon of blue-green fire to show where she had been.

“I dived for her. Over and over, screaming her name,” Spencer said, closing her eyes and seeming to go very far inward.

No one spoke for a few minutes. I watched Spencer slowly, steadily, gather herself. The window was open, and a warm breeze blew through her Rhode Island cottage in the pines. She wiped her eyes.

“I never saw Marnie again,” she said. “Her body washed up two days later.”

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” I said.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll never get over losing her that way. I kept thinking, What could I have done differently, to help her, to save her? If I hadn’t drunk so much, or if I’d figured out they were drugging us. If I’d caught up with her before she’d jumped into the water . . . if I’d had better instincts about Griffin.”