ISABEL WALKED in her front door just as the fireworks had ended. She dropped her keys on the front table, didn't hear any music pumping out of her son's bedroom and worried for a second before she realized he was probably still downtown having fun with his friends.
She went upstairs to her bedroom to get ready for bed, her heart pounding as she brushed her teeth, washed her face, put on her pajamas. All afternoon at the diner, all night as she plated dozens of meals, she'd only been half there. She'd wanted to pull out the letters a hundred times. But she'd had a restaurant to run.
Going to the spot in her closet where she'd dropped her purse, she reached in and pulled out the stack of papers. She still couldn't believe Andrew had kept them all. It meant more to her than it should. Especially since she'd burned all of his.
Slipping beneath her sheets, she turned on her bedside lamp. And as she read one letter after another, two years of young love simply burning up the pages, it all came back to her.
Sailing beside him, capsizing the boat on purpose so that he could pull her against him in the water, kiss her until another boat came around the bend to where they were floating and they were forced to pull away from each other and right their craft.
Hiking through the thick forests, holding his hand at the top of the hill, the whole world at their feet, loving it when he pressed her up against a rough tree trunk, shivering as his fingers moved beneath her shirt, to her bra, crying out as his large palms cupped her, caressed her.
Rowing out to the island and lying in his arms beneath a full moon, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart as shooting stars fell from the sky.
She nestled deeper beneath her blankets as she read, wishing these sweet memories were all there were, dreading the knowledge that they weren't.
Because she only knew too well the letter she'd find at the bottom of the pile, what it would say.
“You wanted her. You can have her. Forever.”
Morning came too fast and Isabel was just taking her first sip of coffee for the day while slipping on her clogs when she saw the light blinking on her old-fashioned message machine. She was leaning into the front door only half listening, when she finally realized what Ginger had said.
“Andrew's coming, Isabel. He's taking the red-eye out tonight. I figured you'd want to know.”
No. God no. The only trick was the one her heart was playing on her. She wanted so badly to keep from losing her breath, to stop the room from spinning, but it was already too late, and she had to put a hand out against the front door to hold herself up as her most deeply repressed memory came back to life in brilliant technicolor.
Over the past two years, Isabel had gotten used to sneaking out at night to be with Andrew. During the summersat the lake it was easier when he was right there, just next door and they could meet at the island or out by theold carousel late a night. But the rest of the year, when they were back in the city, while she went to high schooland he attended classes at NYU, it was harder to see him without getting endless lectures from her parents.
She wished her parents understood her feelings, wished that they could see how perfect he was for her. Insteadthey said things like, “You're too young.” “You have your whole life ahead of you.” And her favorite, “First lovedoesn't last forever, honey.” As if what she felt for Andrew was nothing more than some kid crush.
Fortunately, he'd made sure the little apartment that he shared with a couple of friends was close to herparents' house. Whenever her parents were out — which was often, as they were both heavily involved in the localmusic scene — she'd stuff her bed with blankets to look like a body before she went down the fire escape out back,just in case they came home early and checked on her.
Andrew was always waiting there for her. It was a safe neighborhood, just mothers with strollers and kidsplaying ball, businessmen coming home late from work. She would have been fine walking the four blocks to hisapartment, but he said he'd never forgive himself if something happened to her. If she got hurt coming to him.
They'd go get coffee sometimes and talk for hours, or comb through used-book stores for old books people hadwritten about sailing, but they'd always end up back at his tiny bedroom, lying together on his small bed. He'dstrip her down to her bra and panties and tell her how much he loved her. How he couldn't wait for her to turneighteen so that he could take the promise ring he'd given her, the one she kept buried in her sock drawer, and putit on her finger. How much he wanted to make love to her, to do more than just kiss and stroke her. Sometimes whenthings got too close, when she wanted to go there with him more than she wanted to breathe, they'd barely pullapart in time. They'd sit on opposite sides of his bed, looking at the nautical maps pinned to his wall and plantheir trip around the world until they'd caught their breath.
For all the rules she was breaking every time she snuck out to him, Isabel had heard of several girls in herhigh school who'd had abortions, and had never wanted to be in that horrible position.
But lately when she pulled away, she'd seen something in Andrew's eyes, a waning of patience. She couldn't blamehim, not when they were the same eyes that stared at her in the mirror when she got home from his house.
Aching.
Wanting.
A thousand times, she'd imagined what it would feel like. The long, hard slide of him inside her. Filling herwith his heat. With everything he was.
It made her hot all over just thinking about it. Soon, she decided.
Before both of them went crazy.
But she didn't want to be rushed, to have to hurry back into her clothes afterward to get home. She longed tofall asleep in his arms, to spend an entire night with him, to wake up with him in the morning and see the sunlightplay across his face. So when her parents told her they'd been invited to play an out-of-town concert, and did shewant to come, she made up an excuse about too much homework, needing to get ready for her exams.
She couldn't wait to tell Andrew her plans, to share the delicious anticipation with him. They hadn't planned tosee each other that night, but after telling her parents she was going out to meet a girlfriend, she headed for hisapartment.
She had to knock hard a couple of times to be heard over the loud music. She'd always thought his roommates werea little strange, but she spent so little time with them it really didn't matter.
James opened the door, his eyes bloodshot, his breath smelling like cheap wine. “Hey baby,” he said to her,striking her, as he always did, as slightly lecherous. “Bring any of your hot schoolgirl friends with you?”