Meet Me at the Boardwalk (10 page)

I
magine, if you will, an old woman who resembles Dr. Seuss’s seminal character, Yertle the Turtle. The wrinkles, the hunched physique, but most of all—the total lack of chin. In other words, imagine a mouth and neck that seamlessly blend together. Now remove the shell and the lizard green. Substitute it for a leathery brown. Add some heft and some makeup and perfume, throw on a freakish Saks pantsuit—and make Yertle a biped instead of an amphibian.

Voilà!
You have our nana. Mrs. Jessica Cohen. Or as she prefers, Mrs. Daniel Cohen, even though Grandpa (rest in peace) died long before either Turkey and I were born.

This was the figure who emerged from the cab in front of Rupert’s that evening. The sun had set, the crickets were buzzing, the gas-lit streetlamps were flickering…and Nana’s Saks pantsuit was Yertle-green.

“Hello, my darlings!” she cried, easing herself out the door as the cabdriver removed her luggage from the trunk. “I am never flying again!”

I blinked at Turquoise.

She looked pretty happy, which I couldn’t understand, because tonight’s roster at dinner might have been the most off-kilter posse ever assembled in the history of Seashell Point.

History,
I repeated silently to myself, with a twinge of
anxiety. Yep—there was a lot of history waiting inside: Miles, Megan, Ms. Kim, and Lily-Ann. Turquoise was a walking artifact, herself, in a patchwork, button-down Granny dress. At least it wasn’t a pantsuit.

“Why don’t they pave these streets?” Nana asked. “I feel nauseous.”

Turquoise swept forward and pecked her on the cheek, then grabbed her suitcase, leading her up the stairs. “Nice to see you. And the streets are paved, Nana. They’re just paved with cobblestone. That’s why they’re so bumpy. You know that.”

“What kind of outfit are you wearing?” she demanded. “You look like Jade.”

I myself was in a peasant skirt and tank top. Now even I had to laugh. I pecked Nana on the cheek, too, holding my breath for fear of toxic perfume shock. “Thanks for coming to visit,” I managed.

“Well, this may be the last time,” she grumbled. I held the door open for her as she toddled inside, keeping her steady with my free hand. “The flight was delayed. The cab ride from the airport was more than an hour. I’m not even going to discuss what it cost. Why did your father have to settle here of all places?”

Turkey and I exchanged a grin. Rupert’s was packed (as always), dimly lit in the classic overpriced fancy restaurant way, and just…pretentious. The rugs, the bow-tied waiters, the soft classical music and hushed conversations…at least there weren’t any B-list celebrities there yet.

“No clams tonight,” Nana announced, apropos of nothing.

“Why not?” Turquoise asked. She left the suitcase with the maître d’.

I clutched Nana’s arm, keeping her steady. I stared at our table. Miles, Meg, Lily-Ann, and Meg’s mom all wore the same stricken-but-polite smiles anyone would wear when a senior citizen in a green pantsuit approaches. Miles even stood and pulled out her chair. Which was extra nice, because easing Nana into it allowed me to take some focus off of Megan and Lily-Ann—both of whom had on black and spaghetti-strap dresses tonight. Apparently, their peas-in-a-pod vibe was back on. Fine. Tonight’s dinner was about forging the peace among all of us. As far as I could remember, anyway. Or was it about me finding out if Miles had confessed to Megan what had happened between us, and my confessing that I thought I was starting to fall for Sean Edwards? No. Of course not.

“Ahh,” Nana moaned happily, once she was ensconced. “This is nice. Except for the name of the place. What kind of name is Rupert’s?”

I seized Turquoise’s arm before she sat down. “Let’s get her that first red wine,” I whispered in her ear.

“But that just makes her more talkative,” Turquoise hissed back.

“Only at first. Then she’ll get really sleepy, really fast.”

Turquoise waved to the waiter.

I sat and joined the awkward, silent smile-fest.

“What brings you to town this summer, Mrs. Cohen?” Megan’s mom asked politely. She could always be counted on
to break the ice. Of course, she could; she was head of the tourist board. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It is!” Miles and Meg both agreed in unison. They looked at each other.

Nana lifted her shoulders. “I’m here because I had to check on my granddaughters, honey. Two wild girls, living on their own? When their father was the same age as Jade is now, you wouldn’t
believe
the nonsense he was up to. A mother knows, though. A mother knows.
Ah-mein
.”

Lily-Ann laughed. “Did you just say…”

“She said Amen,” I translated.

“
Ah-mein
. I have an accent. What are you gonna do?” Nana said.

“Um…nothing. I’m Lily-Ann Roth by the way.” She stood and extended a hand.

Nana waved her back down with her gnarled fingers. “Nice to meet you, honey, but don’t bother with the formalities. Handshaking is off limits, what with the arthritis.” Just then Turquoise returned with a glass of red wine. For the first time all night, Nana smiled, too. She lifted the glass and cheered all of us.

Some highlights of the ensuing hour-long horror show:

• Nana spent fifteen minutes arguing with the waiter about whether the chicken was “very, truly thoroughly prepared. I don’t want trichinosis.”
  
• Lily-Ann kept making flirty eyes at Miles, which he took great pains to avoid. Megan’s skin grew increasingly pale as her conversation grew increasingly nonexistent.
  
• Megan’s mom chose dessert to make the big announcement: Come Labor Day, demolition would begin on the boardwalk, and by Memorial Day of next summer, Seashell Point would have a splendid new faux-wood dock, an “extension of Main Street, straight from the library to the floating casino!”
  
• On the plus side, Ms. Kim also insisted on paying for the entire meal.
  

Okay,
I said to myself, surreptitiously eyeing everyone’s dessert plates.
Five more minutes, tops. Ms. Kim will ask for the check, and we’ll all be able to flee.

Miles was the first to speak up. “Well, I probably should be on my way,” he said. He shoved a last little bit of chocolate cake into his mouth and dabbed his lips with his napkin. “I don’t mean to be rude, but my parents are expecting me home by ten o’clock.”

It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen him wear a jacket and tie since my bat-mitzvah. But it suited him right now, especially with his floppy blond hair.

Nana grinned crookedly at him. “Dear, how long have you been living here?”

Miles shrugged. “Um, my whole life—”

“You know, my son has been living here for thirty-three years. Thirty-three! The man is an overgrown teenager! But, God bless him, I understand why he came. The boardwalk. I think it’s a shame you’re going to build a dock, even though I like boats. But every resort town has gambling. Every resort town is the same—you got your Saks, your Gucci, your Prada…it doesn’t matter where you are. You could be in Bali. What I’m saying about the boardwalk is that at any time of day, it’s such a nice thing to be able to walk out and see the kids, and smell the cotton candy, and watch all the young deviants out on the waves…I don’t mean to offend anyone here.”

“I agree with you, Mrs. Cohen,” Megan murmured—in almost the exact same voice she’d used when she’d said that she wanted to be mayor of Seashell Point, way back in the fourth grade.

“The dock will be a vast improvement, I assure you,” Ms. Kim stated with a terse smile. “It will be safer, and—”

“Safer?” Miles interrupted. “What about the surfing? That’ll be a lot more dangerous with a big thing sticking out into the water.” He paused again, his eyes still glued to Megan’s. “But maybe you’re right,” he said.

“So, Miles,” Nana said.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“When are you and Megan going to get married?” she asked.

Megan’s mouth fell open. Miles’s eyes bulged, but his smile remained intact.

“Nana!” I shouted.

“What?
You
can’t marry him, sweetheart. He’s not Jewish.” She nodded toward Lily-Ann. “And Miles can’t marry this one. She’s a summer girl.”

I shot a horrified glare at Turquoise. I considered bolting—anything but to look at Miles and Megan, who’d both begun staring down at their half-eaten plates of cake, faces bright red.

Lily-Ann was laughing hysterically.

And, of course, Megan’s mom was stone-faced.

Turquoise started laughing, too.

I blinked several times. Then I started laughing. There wasn’t much else to do.

“What’s so funny?” Nana asked.

“You are,” I muttered.

Well, not really. Okay, Nana
was
funny—but what was funnier: She was absolutely right.

It hit me then. Hard.
Of course
. Megan and Miles.

Miles and Megan were better for each other than Miles and I ever could or would be. They
were
actually meant for each other. It was another one of those epiphany moments, like realizing that fixing a screen door and buying the right brand of bug-repelling scented candles
are
sort of crucial to growing up. My heart leaped as a series of obvious revelations clicked into place. It was as if I’d suddenly been handed the teacher’s edition to a trig exam. I think Lily-Ann must have seen it, as well, because the flirt light went out in her eyes. We even traded a strange little grin across the
table. The answers were all there, plain as Megan’s pink cheeks.

Megan and Miles both love weird movies. Megan and Miles both love cheesy downtown Seashell Point. Megan and Miles both love the boardwalk…

And I was wrong about something else. There
was
something to do. I could stop running away for once. Better yet, I had an idea about how to start.

“Well, I guess I’m just a big, silly old comedian then,” Nana said. “Or
yenta
? Nah, that means matchmaker. No matter. I think we’re all done here, yes?” She waved a hand at the maître d’. “Check, please!”

A
fter all the drama of loading Jade and Turquoise and their grandma into a Seashell Point taxi, of uncomfortably hugging Lily-Ann good night, and shaking Ms. Kim’s hand trying to remain poised and holding my breath…after all
that
, I found myself standing in front of Rupert’s, alone with Megan. The whirlwind was over. I loosened my tie and breathed a very long sigh of relief.

“Where do you think Lily-Ann went?” Megan asked, squinting toward the boardwalk. “You think she’ll be okay getting home?”

“She’s definitely somebody who knows how to take care of herself,” I murmured. “She probably kicked off her heels and started running as fast as she could.”

Megan laughed.

“What?” I said.

“You really wanted to get out of there, huh?”

“You didn’t?”

“No…I did. I was just…”

“You were just…” I prompted.

“I was impressed with how you handled my mom. She was being really rude. That was a weird dinner. I was impressed with how you handled everyone, actually.”

I took a second to consider my dinnertime behavior. It didn’t seem terribly impressive to me. I’d basically kept quiet
the whole time, except to ask lame polite questions. I’d tried not to look at Lily-Ann. That was something, I supposed. I’d also managed not to fight with Jade, even though I’d been
extremely
tempted, as she’d set the weirdness in motion in the first place.

“Well, thanks,” I said. “But I didn’t do much. We all went in there knowing it would be weird.”

“Yeah, but you were the only one who was himself the whole night. Or, I guess Jade’s nana, too. I don’t think she’s ever had a phony moment in her life.”

“You think people were phony? Your mom sure wasn’t.”

Megan bowed her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. She bums me out.”

“Hey, look, why don’t I walk you home?” I suggested. “We can take the scenic route. The boardwalk. What do you say?”

Tonight is the night,
I thought.
If I’m not going to be phony, I should tell her what happened with Jade. It’s only right.

Without even so much as a nod, she took my hand in hers and pulled me down Main Street—toward the boardwalk. We’d never held hands before. But it felt right. It felt more than right…It felt natural and electric and focusing, so maybe it wasn’t strange at all. I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder, sizing up all the little details of downtown: the lit-up quaint storefronts, perfectly manicured strips of lawn, the wrought-iron lamps, and town houses. It all suddenly looked fake. If they tore down the boardwalk, what next? Rip up the cobblestones and tear down the two-hundred-year-old
landmarks? Cut down the trees? Replace Rupert’s with a Wal-Mart?

“Miles?” Megan whispered.

“Yeah?”

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” I muttered.

I shook my head and picked up my pace, tugging Megan toward the official Seashell Point boardwalk entrance. A three-foot-tall bronze statue of a clamshell stood at the center of the broad stairwell. All of us locals had been tempted to deface it at one point. (Brian Ashe actually had. He’d spray-painted a big, crooked smiley face.) But I couldn’t help but think of Jade every time I laid eyes on it. “
What sort of a place uses a clam as its mascot?”
she would joke.
“I mean, think about our stupid school. We’re the bulldogs. And even WE’RE more creative. Besides, bulldogs can always be cute, furry stuffed animals…not some weird metal monolith.”

Again, I felt mad at her. But it wasn’t that…that was just Jade-talk. It was the secret. I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. Megan deserved to know. It was the only way I could finally feel healed after everything—
truly
healed.

Megan let go of my hand when we reached the railing.

Neither of us spoke for a bit.

I shivered. There’d been a thunderstorm this afternoon. A crisp ocean wind washed over us. The tide lapped the beach in a gentle rhythm.

“You know,” Megan remarked in a faraway voice, gazing
up at the night sky, “Right after the rain, you can really see a lot more stars.”

I guess she was right. But I’d never really looked at the sky. I always looked at the water. I missed those waves. Even the ones that were small and low—just perfect enough for a beginning surfer to find balance—like I had, a long time ago. I could run home, grab my board, and find my legs again. Right this second. I cast a sidelong glance at Megan. Her eyes were still on the stars. She was hugging herself, her arms glowing in the moonlight.

“Hey, are you cold?” I asked. I wriggled out of my dumb jacket. “Put this on.”

She grinned. “Miles, that’s sweet, but you don’t need to loan me your blazer.”

“You actually think I want to wear this thing?”

“Ha!” She grabbed it from my hands and slipped it on. The sleeves hung over her arms. It was weird…I mean, we were both about the same height, but now I knew how much more slender she was than me. “Thanks,” she said, wrapping the floppy sleeves around herself. She turned back to the ocean. “Maybe I’ll find you a conch shell out there for show-and-tell. You know, to return the favor.”

“No problem. Honestly, I hate that jacket. It’s tweed.”

“Miles, how come you don’t surf anymore?” Megan asked suddenly.

I froze. “Huh?”

“Seriously.”

“What do you mean?”

“You ride that skateboard Jade got you, which is great, but why don’t you surf? Your leg is pretty much healed, isn’t it? The guys from
Dogtown and Z-Boys
kept surfing, even though they skated. And some of them got hurt, too. Remember?”

I turned away. “I don’t know. My leg hurts when it rains,” I mumbled, and I was telling the truth—even though it was painful. I had to keep telling the truth.
Tell Megan now,
my crowded head shouted.
Tell her about what happened with Jade and that you only made out with Lily-Ann on a stupid meaningless whim.

“You can keep walking me home though, can’t you?”

I swallowed and nodded.

Her black eyes glistened in the night. I stepped an inch closer.

I wanted to kiss her so, so much.

“Miles I really want—” Her cell phone beeped. “Ugh,” she groaned. “I’m sure it’s my mom,
demanding
to know where I am. I did make a mental note to check my caller ID, so I could screen…” She dug her phone out of her handbag and frowned.

“What?” I asked.

She wrinkled her forehead and shoved the phone against her ear, locking eyes with me. “Jade?” she answered. “What’s up?”

For a second, I felt like grabbing the phone out of Megan’s hand and hurling it into the surf. And then it hit me. I wasn’t mad at Jade. I was mad at me. I should have never kissed her or Lily-Ann…I shouldn’t have; I shouldn’t have…

“You what?” Megan asked into the phone.

What’s she saying?
I mouthed silently.

Megan shrugged. “She wants us to meet her and Turquoise at the library tomorrow at ten. She told me to tell you to take a ‘Donny sick day.’ The sisters are cooking up some scheme.” She paused for a second and then laughed. “Okay, whatever. Bye, Jade.” She dropped the phone back into her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

I scratched my chin. “Jade and Turquoise are doing something together?” I asked. My brain was suddenly
too
crowded. I’d reached a critical overload. “What
happened
this summer?” I asked Megan.

Megan laughed lightly. She took my hand again. “Nothing. So are you gonna walk me home, or what?”

“Well, since I don’t have my skateboard, I guess now there’s no excuse not to.”

We strolled the length of the boardwalk, our fancy shoes clackity-clacking. We walked past all the closed stands and shops—past the petting zoo, past the Amusement Alley Jupiter Bounce, past Sonny’s…then past all the surf gear stands, where the haggard old metal dudes sold their wares for “clams”…until we reached the end, where the stairs led down to the beach right in front of the Roths’ back door. Without a word between us, we took off our shoes and socks and dashed down the stairs, running through the cool sand. Once we were a good long distance from the Roths’, we continued to walk the beach in silence—hands still held, her
heels in her free hand, my stupid scuffed shoes and socks in mine. We laughed for no reason.

I had no idea what time it was, how much time had passed.

And then we were almost at the burned-out Seashell Point lighthouse near Megan’s home. The lighthouse was dark, but the Kims’ house was brightly lit, as bright as the Roths’ mansion—perched on the rocky bluff nearby. I paused on the beach to catch my breath. I thought about inviting myself inside and confessing. I thought…

“Miles?” Megan asked, still holding my hand.

“So I guess this is where you turn off and climb up to the end of Ocean Avenue,” I said, sounding like an idiot. “I guess.”

Look how beautiful she is in that dress. It’s ridiculous. This is like some horrible cheesy soft-rock ballad. I could write the lyrics right now: “The ivory skin and the long black hair”…Jesus. I should use this opportunity to kiss her. We’ve never been closer than we are right now. I should—

“You guess what, Miles?” Megan asked, snapping me back into reality.

“Megan, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you ever since…you know, my accident,” I said. “Well, I guess about since about a month after the accident.”

“Yeah?” Her black eyes drew closer to mine.

“I—um, well, something…I guess—something happened between Jade and me,” I stammered. “I don’t know what it was, but…”

Megan stepped back, letting my fingers slip away. “But it was something?” she prodded. Her voice dropped lower than I had ever heard it.

“Yeah. I don’t know.” I glanced back toward the dim lights of the boardwalk. “She came over to fix me lunch that first day back from the hospital, and I guess we were just both so happy to see each other, and she gave me that skateboard…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know
what
?” she demanded.

“We sort of made out.”

The worst part? I’d always imagined it would feel so great to come clean. As if it would magically lift this burden from my shoulders or cure the pain in my leg. It didn’t. Instead, I felt like
more
of an idiot. I stared down at my dress shirt and rolled-up suit pants. I
looked
like an idiot, too.

Megan shrugged as if she didn’t care one bit. “So you’ve made out with both Lily-Ann and Jade.” Her tone was hard. “No worries. Anyone in Seashell Point you haven’t made out with?”

“Come on, Megan, please—”

“Good night, Miles.”

She turned and vanished up the path to her house.

Seconds later, I heard her front door slam.

She still had my jacket on.