We Were Liars(42)

“You believe that’s what he’s thinking?”

“He can’t stomach me,” said Gat. “Not really. He might like me as a person, might even like Ed, but he can’t say my name or look me in the eye.”

It was true. Now that he said it, I could see.

“I’m not saying he wants to be the guy who only likes white people,” Gat went on. “He knows he’s not supposed to be that guy. He’s a Democrat, he voted for Obama—but that doesn’t mean he’s comfortable having people of color in his beautiful family.” Gat shook his head. “He’s fake with us. He doesn’t like the idea of Carrie with us. He doesn’t call Ed Ed. He calls him sir. And he makes sure I know I’m an outsider, every chance he gets.” Gat stroked Fatima’s soft doggy ears. “You saw him in the attic. He wants me to stay the hell away from you.”

I hadn’t seen Granddad’s interruption that way. I’d imagined he was embarrassed at walking in on us.

But now, suddenly, I understood what had happened.

Watch yourself, young man, Granddad had said. Your head. You could get hurt.

It was another threat.

“Did you know my uncle proposed to Carrie, back in the fall?” Gat asked.

I shook my head.

“They’ve been together almost nine years. He acts as a dad to Johnny and Will. He got down on his knees and proposed, Cady. He had the three of us boys there, and my mom. He’d decorated the apartment with candles and roses. We all dressed in white, and we’d brought this big meal in from this Italian place Carrie loves. He put Mozart on the stereo.

“Johnny and I were all, Ed, what’s the big deal? She lives with you, dude. But the man was nervous. He’d bought a diamond ring. Anyway, she came home, and the four of us left them alone and hid in Will’s room. We were supposed to all rush out with congratulations—but Carrie said no.”

“I thought they didn’t see a point to getting married.”

“Ed sees a point. Carrie doesn’t want to risk her stupid inheritance,” Gat said.

“She didn’t even ask Granddad?”

“That’s the thing,” said Gat. “Everyone’s always asking Harris about everything. Why should a grown woman have to ask her father to approve her wedding?”

“Granddad wouldn’t stop her.”

“No,” said Gat. “But back when Carrie first moved in with Ed, Harris made it clear that all the money earmarked for her would disappear if she married him.

“The point is, Harris doesn’t like Ed’s color. He’s a racist bastard, and so was Tipper. Yes, I like them both for a lot of reasons, and they have been more than generous letting me come here every summer. I’m willing to think that Harris doesn’t even realize why he doesn’t like my uncle, but he dislikes him enough to disinherit his eldest daughter.”

Gat sighed. I loved the curve of his jaw, the hole in his T-shirt, the notes he wrote me, the way his mind worked, the way he moved his hands when he talked. I imagined, then, that I knew him completely.

I leaned in and kissed him. It still seemed so magical that I could do that, and that he would kiss me back. So magical that we showed our weaknesses to one another, our fears and our fragility.“Why didn’t we ever talk about this?” I whispered.

Gat kissed me again. “I love it here,” he said. “The island. Johnny and Mirren. The houses and the sound of the ocean. You.”

“You too.”

“Part of me doesn’t want to ruin it. Doesn’t want to even imagine that it isn’t perfect.”

I understood how he felt.

Or thought I did.

Gat and I went down to the perimeter then, and walked until we got to a wide, flat rock that looked over the harbor. The water crashed against the foot of the island. We held each other and got halfway naked and forgot, for as long as we could, every horrid detail of the beautiful Sinclair family.





65




Once upon a time there was a wealthy merchant who had three beautiful daughters. He spoiled them so much that the younger two girls did little all day but sit before the mirror, gazing at their own beauty and pinching their cheeks to make them red.

One day the merchant had to leave on a journey. “What shall I bring you when I return?” he asked.

The youngest daughter requested gowns of silk and lace.

The middle daughter requested rubies and emeralds.

The eldest daughter requested only a rose.

The merchant was gone several months. For his youngest daughter, he filled a trunk with gowns of many colors. For his middle daughter, he scoured the markets for jewels. But only when he found himself close to home did he remember his promise of a rose for his eldest child.

He came upon a large iron fence that stretched along the road. In the distance was a dark mansion and he was pleased to see a rosebush near the fence bursting with red blooms. Several roses were easily within reach.

It was the work of a minute to cut a flower. The merchant was tucking the blossom into his saddlebag when an angry growl stopped him.

A cloaked figure stood where the merchant was certain no one had been a moment earlier. He was enormous and spoke with a deep rumble. “You take from me with no thought of payment?”

“Who are you?” the merchant asked, quaking.