Nantucket Red (Nantucket Blue) (18 page)

Forty-one

“YOU ASKED ME TO COME HERE
and explain myself, and I thank you for the opportunity,” I said; and I took a deep breath and made eye contact with each member of the committee in the small, formal room in the Brown Admissions Office. Claudia Gonzales looked even younger than she’d sounded on the phone. Coach Stacy was barely recognizable in a suit. Dr. Fantini, a tall, bow-tied dean from the science department, was the third member.

My hands were shaking, so I clasped them behind my back. I was wearing an outfit that Mom had ironed: a khaki skirt, a white blouse, and navy flats. Mom had blown out my hair and pulled it back with a silver barrette, just as she had done for picture day at Rosewood every year since I could remember.

Whatever anger and frustration she’d demonstrated when I first told her what had happened had morphed into mothering.

After she picked me up from the bus station, she’d made me my favorite dinner—spaghetti with clam sauce—put clean sheets on my bed, and even stocked the fridge with my favorite kind of yogurt. And that night, when I couldn’t sleep despite being exhausted, she came into my room with her guitar.

“Oh, the summertime has come and the leaves are sweetly blooming,”
Mom sang softly.
“And the wild mountain thyme grows around the purple heather.”

“Will you go?”
we whisper-sang together.
“Lassie, will you go?”

“Remember when I used to sing that to you?” she asked. “Every night, you wanted to hear that song.”

“Keep singing,” I said. “And then sing it again.”

And she did—we did, until I fell asleep.

The air-conditioning in the admissions office wasn’t working. The four of us were perspiring. I took a sip of water from a bottle they had handed me when I walked in. As I fumbled to replace the cap on the bottle, it fell to the floor. Despite the fact that their eyes followed it to the edge of the carpet where it landed, I didn’t dare pick it up for fear I’d spill the whole bottle, knock over the table, send a lamp crashing down, and set the building on fire. I placed the water bottle carefully down and continued.

“I want to start by saying that I know what I did was wrong. I know that I abused alcohol. I take full responsibility for my behavior, which was immature, cavalier, and potentially dangerous. It was the first time in my life getting drunk, and because of the repercussions, I take alcohol use very seriously.” I took a breath and another sip of water. “It says in the Brown Code of Conduct that the university expects that members of the Brown community be truthful and forthright, so I’ve prepared as forthright and truthful an explanation as possible.”

Coach Stacy leaned in. Dean Fantini recrossed his long legs. Claudia Gonzales sighed and made some notes. I pulled out the copies of the picture of Nina and the list and handed one to each of them. “This is Nina Clayton; she was in the class of 1989.”

I went on to explain that she had been my best friend’s mother and a role model to me. I told them that she had passed away the year before. I told them the story of the broken frame and my discovery of the list. Coach Stacy smiled as she read the list. “This is so eighties!” she said.

I held up the Rodin book. “Rodin said, ‘Nothing is a waste of time if you use the experience wisely.’ It was in the spirit of these words that I set about living this list on Nantucket. I wanted to do something with my summer besides serve lobster rolls to people in pink pants and seersucker jackets.”

Dr. Fantini nodded.

“When I found this book in the thrift store, it felt like a sign so I began with number one:
Visit Rodin Museum in Paris.
I studied these pictures every night. I couldn’t believe how alive they felt, even in a book that’s thirty years old. The sculptures have the spark of life. When I watched a surfer out at Cisco Beach, I saw
Saint John the Baptist
and
The Walking Man
. I saw
The Thinker
and
The Kiss
. Because of Rodin, I saw something more than a surfer. I saw art in motion. So, in this first endeavor, I was successful. I had experienced Rodin without leaving Nantucket.”

Dr. Fantini adjusted his glasses and made some notes.

“I moved on to number two:
Learn to drive and then drive Route 1 to Big Sur.
” I took a sip of water and continued. “I already know how to drive, so I decided to learn to drive stick. I learned in a 1976 Land Rover on the back roads of Nantucket.” I smiled, remembering the day with Ben and how the car had taken off without us. “And this led me down a surprising path, both literal and figurative. I saw parts of the island I wouldn’t have seen, but also I think learning a new skill can open up a new road. While I was focusing on driving, I allowed myself to sing without self-consciousness, and it reminded me how much I like to sing, even if I don’t have perfect pitch. In pushing ourselves to try new things, we find other parts of ourselves, the back roads of our souls.” I scanned the faces of the committee members. Coach Stacy and Dr. Fantini looked pleased, but Claudia Gonzales remained expressionless. Maybe I’d pushed it too far with “back roads of our souls.” In a last-minute decision, I decided not to sing. Jules had been right. It was too awkward.

“When you look at number three, you might see the connection between the list and why I’m standing here today.
Drink Campari on the Amalfi Coast with Alison.
Alison was Nina’s best friend. Nina’s daughter, Jules, was my best friend. Until Nina died. The tragedy of her death separated us, and I missed her so much. Losing a best friend is like losing a piece of yourself, and I wanted so much to connect with her again. I wanted the ease we used to have in our friendship, an ease that seemed epitomized by the idea of drinking Campari in Italy.

“I was so inexperienced with alcohol. Like I said, I’d never been drunk before. That night, I was totally caught up with a feeling of freedom. At some point, I let that freedom get the better of me. I lost control. It was so scary.” My voice shook a little. “I never want to lose control like that again. If anything good came out of this, it’s that I have a deeper commitment to my own health and safety and that of those around me.”

I mentioned that Jules had revealed to me that the Woody
Allen movie Nina had been in was
Crimes and Misdemeanors
,
and this made all of them laugh, even Claudia Gonzales. I told them that I had written a letter to Woody Allen to see if he would let me audition for him.

“How did that go?” Ms. Gonzales asked, blinking in amazement.

“Let’s put it this way,” I said, “I’m not exactly a working actress.” They laughed again.

“I’m not auditioning for Woody Allen,” I said, “I’m auditioning for the role of Brown student, and I am ready to throw myself into the part. See, I don’t just want to read about Rodin in a book. I want to take a class with an expert. And I don’t just want to look at pictures from the 1950s. I want to study midcentury America. Instead of drinking Campari from a liquor store on Nantucket, I want to take Italian classes. And while I’m pretty sure I don’t want to audition for a movie, I want to know why people are so crazy about Woody Allen, maybe through a film-theory class.

“I know I made a mistake,” I continued. “A big mistake. But I am exactly the kind of student you want. With this list, I’ve demonstrated that I live my curiosity. I pursue learning with a passion. I take meaningful risks. And I want to take more of them, here, at Brown.”

“What about the last item on the list?” Ms. Gonzales asked, holding up her copy.

“Oh, yeah.” I’d gotten so swept up in my grand finale that I’d forgotten about Nina’s last wish:
See St. Francis from altar.
“That one’s a mystery to me,” I said, trying to remember what I’d planned to say. “It represents what I don’t know, and maybe what none of us knows, what eludes us but keeps us looking.”

“Wow,” Coach Stacy said, beaming. “Good answer.”

“That was quite a presentation,” Dr. Fantini said.

“We’ll talk and get back to you in twenty-four hours,” Claudia Gonzales said. Coach Stacy smiled and gave me a secret thumbs-up.

I nodded. “I look forward to hearing from you.” Why, I wondered, did I feel a knot in the back of my throat? I thanked them all again and gathered my things.
This is what I want,
I told myself.

“You know, Cricket,” Dr. Fantini said as I was leaving, “I think that last thing on the list is about Larsen’s Comet.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Why?”

“A group of French monks near the Italian border viewed this comet during the feast of Saint Francis and thought it was a sign from the heavens. There was a sickness in their village, and after the comet appeared, many were healed. They thought it was Saint Francis himself. Scientists have always credited the discovery of the comet to the Danish astronomer Anders Larsen. But some folks from a certain part of France have always believed it was Saint Francis. Was Nina French?”

“Her grandmother was,” I said.

Dr. Fantini beamed. “The last time the comet was visible was in 1939, so her grandmother probably saw it herself, and perhaps she wanted her granddaughter to see Saint Francis in the sky. It’s one theory, anyway. I can’t explain the ‘altar’ part, though.”

“I can,” I said. “It’s a place on Nantucket.”

“Would it be a good place to see the stars?”

“It would be perfect,” I said, realizing that if I could see the comet from Altar Rock, it would be the only thing on the list I could actually complete, for now, anyway. It was the one thing that Nina hadn’t actually been able to do.

“This is the last week that the comet is going to be visible, and the forecast calls for rain for the rest of the week, so I suggest you get out there. It’s not coming this way for another seventy-five years,” Dean Fantini said. “I can’t wait to tell my wife. She will love this story. It’s very romantic.”

“Wow, thanks,” I said. “You solved the mystery.”

“There’s still plenty of mystery out there. For all of us,” he said.

I thanked him, and as soon as I was out of the office, I pulled up the ferry schedule on my phone.

Forty-two

“JULES, I FIGURED IT OUT,”
I said, standing outside the Brown admissions office. “You’re not going to believe this. But you know that last thing on the list? Your mom was talking about Larsen’s Comet. I guess a lot of French people think that it was Saint Francis, appearing in a miracle. And your great-grandmother is French, right?”

“Yes. She’s French, all right. Why do you think I suffered through so many years of Madame Smith? That’s so crazy. And you know what? Mom always said that Altar Rock was the best place to see the stars.”

“This is one thing on her life list that she didn’t get to do, Jules! We need to get out to Altar Rock tonight, because it’s supposed to rain the rest of the week and then it’s not coming again for another seventy-five years. Seventy-five years! Oh my god, there’s a fast ferry that leaves at six p.m. Can you get to Hyannis? Can you pick me up on the way?”

“Cricket, this is so cool, but I’m not going back to Nantucket. I’m with Jay.”

Oh, I thought. Oh, yeah. She was in love, and when a person is in love, there is no one else as important as
that person
. I knew what that felt like. Once, I had felt that way. Once, Zack had been
that person
and I had been
that person
to Zack. I squinted against the pain of knowing that that wasn’t true anymore.

“I just got here,” Jules said. “Besides, I’ve already seen the comet. This list? It’s your thing. Your thing with my mom. You go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He did it last night, by the way. Dad’s engaged.”

“Really? I’m sorry.”

“I’ll get over it,” she said. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? Jay and I are at a restaurant. He’s waiting for me. I kind of have to go.”

“Okay,” I said, starting my walk back home.

“But wait,” she said. “How’d it go with Brown?”

“It went well,” I said, heading toward Thayer Street. “I think I did it. I mean, fingers crossed.”

“How was the scrimmage?”

“I scored. Twice.”

“That’s awesome! I knew it! Okay, Jay is waving to me. He got us a table. Igottagoloveyoubye.” I felt her growing up, arcing away from high school. I didn’t want her to grow up any faster than I did. Now that we were best friends again, I wanted us to be in lockstep with each other, but she was getting out of Providence, even if only to Boston, and I had just fought with all of my might to stay.

As I walked down Thayer Street toward my mom’s house, my heart was heavy. I was in the center of the Brown campus. And I knew every café. I knew every store. I knew every crack in the sidewalk. There was the Avon, the single-screen movie theater where I’d seen foreign films with Jules. There was the Thai place that Mom ordered from twice a week the year of the divorce. There was the hot-dog stand I’d been going to since I was six. I knew these streets so well I could’ve walked home blindfolded.

A girl in a Brown Women’s Lacrosse T-shirt came out of the 7-Eleven and started walking in my direction. I saw Fiona and Bitsy a few steps behind her, chatting and laughing. I darted into the vintage clothing store where Jules and I had bought our Halloween costumes two years ago. I held my breath and watched them pass by from the window. Fiona’s words haunted me.
Lacrosse is our life. Three hours a day. Every day. And every weekend, too.

My phone rang. It was a Brown number.

“Hello?” I said. The bell above the door rang faintly as I left the store. I leaned against the glass of the storefront and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hi, Cricket. It’s Claudia Gonzales. I’m so delighted to welcome you back into the class of 2018. We were right about you the first time.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

She went on to tell me about registration and orientation, but I could barely hear her. I was light-headed. My ears were buzzing. I felt faint. I sat on the curb. As soon as I hung up, I burst into tears.