What's Mine and Yours(15)

“A very normal thing,” Helene interjected.

“Yes, very normal—” Brent said.

Inéz slipped her hand into Noelle’s, as if she knew what was to come.

“To make a long story short, another resident confronted her. Asked if she lived in the community, said he hadn’t seen her around. He asked her for ID, and when she refused to give him any, he called the police.”

“Oh God,” Ava said, although she’d certainly heard the story before.

“It all got cleared up. She showed the officer her ID, her key card to the pool, and he left. But her son, I think, was very upset. And the other resident—”

“Who was it?” Noelle asked.

“Do you know that salt-and-pepper-haired man who’s always walking those dachshunds? Doesn’t stop to pick up their waste unless someone is watching?”

“Such a nuisance,” Helene said.

“Oh God,” said Ava again.

“Well, what kind of repercussions will he face?”

The group turned their eyes on Inéz. She had put down her glass.

“I assume that what got left out of the story is what’s obvious. That Patricia and her son are black. Am I right?”

“They’re West Indian, I believe,” said Helene.

“Jamaican,” said Brent.

“Well, this man is obviously a racist. Why else would he assume they had no right to be at the pool?”

“Well, the newsletter’s late this week—” John Sutton began.

“He owes them an apology,” Inéz said.

John Sutton nodded. “He acted badly. An apology is not a bad idea.”

“It’s an absolute requirement. At the very least.”

“What a terrible welcome to the neighborhood,” Helene said, shaking her head, and Ava murmured something about the Lord and mercy, lifted another glass of sparkling wine off a passing tray.

“I wonder what it will be like for him to go to school with your girls,” Inéz said pointedly to John and Ava. “I imagine the schools here are also predominately white? I hope for his sake that the neighborhood, at least, can be a place where he feels safe.”

“Well, he was never really in any danger,” Brent said. “The police out here aren’t like the police in the city. They come to investigate, not to mow anybody down.”

Inéz pushed her eyebrows together in puzzlement, disgust.

“But you never can be too careful,” Brent went on, nervously now, and he turned to John Sutton. “Maybe you can put something in the newsletter,” he said.



After the party, they sat on Noelle’s back porch to sober up. They drank coconut water and swatted at their arms, the citronella tiki torches doing little to repel mosquitoes.

“I hope it works out for you,” Inéz said. “This life out here.”

“I think I’ll invite that woman over—Patricia. And her family. Let them know they can count on us.”

“You didn’t say a single thing during that whole conversation about the pool. That’s not like you, Nells.”

“I know. But this is all I have right now. Those are my neighbors.”

Inéz squeezed her hand. “Don’t get lost out here, love.”

“You know, I was pregnant before.”

“And you lost the baby? Christ, Nells, why didn’t you say anything?”

“At first, it was this beautiful secret, just between Nelson and me. And by the time I was ready to tell everyone, it was all over. Nelson took it in stride, said there was nothing to do but accept it and try again.”

“That man is so strange. And it’s not just thick skin either. It’s not normal.”

“He’s not as unbreakable as he seems,” Noelle said, guarding her husband, his secrets.

The first time Noelle had seen Nelson cry was toward the end of college. A girl Noelle knew from seminar had died. She and the girl had sat beside each other for months, shared notes, complained about the professor’s illegible handwriting. She had been sick, but Noelle hadn’t known. The professor made an announcement at the end of class. In her room, Noelle had sobbed, inconsolable, carrying on about the unpredictability of life, how they would all die, but they didn’t know when. Nelson had tried to comfort her. He put his arm around her, cycled through every aphorism he seemed to know about cherishing every day. When he couldn’t calm her, he grew more and more agitated, until finally he started to beat his own skull. He crumpled onto the floor and begged her to stop. There was no point in her suffering. It wouldn’t make anything better; it wouldn’t bring back her friend. She’d only derail herself. Noelle wound up rocking him, kissing him until he was still. They made love. They never talked about her friend again.

“Why would he break when he’s got you looking after him?” Inéz said. “You’re the one I worry about.”

“I’m not as blameless as I seem. I’ve been a mess. I think that’s why he took the job in Paris—to get some space.”

“He’d be a fool to stop loving you.”

Noelle shrugged. “We’ve been together a long time.”

“So?” Inéz asked, defiant. “So have we, and we’ve sustained our love.” She smiled at Noelle, leaned her head back against the rocker.