Summer at Willow Lake (32 page)

He didn’t kid himself. Things were about to change radically for him. Sure, he was supposed to go to law school, but that wasn’t what he really wanted to do. What he really wanted was to write. He’d finished two short stories over the summer and was considering submitting them to the
Yale Literary Review.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a big glass-framed poster for that new hit movie,
Annie Hall.
He was wearing a good shirt and school tie because he wouldn’t have time to change when he got to campus tonight, and there was an official dinner. As class treasurer, he couldn’t miss it.

He stuck his hand in his pants pocket and jingled his change in nervous impatience. His fingers encountered the silver cuff link, and it comforted him to know Mariska had its mate. Pacing up and down, he leaned out over the tracks, as if spotting the train would make it come sooner. He checked his watch, paced some more. Several others arrived, vacationers heading back to the city after Labor Day, people with kids and luggage, sunburns and spots of pink calamine lotion on their mosquito bites.

Amid the growing crowd, he saw a slender woman with dark, shining hair, hurrying toward him. His heart gave a leap. “Mariska?”

“Philip,” she said, sounding a little breathless.

She looked pale, tired, yet still achingly beautiful. Instantly he cast about to see if anyone was watching. Too risky. He couldn’t swing her up into his arms the way he longed to do. Keeping his hands at his sides, he said, “I didn’t know you were coming to the station.”

“I can’t put this off any longer,” she said. “I need to tell you something.”

The expression on her face sent a spike of ice through his heart. He knew already. Before she said a word. “Mariska—”

“Let’s sit down.” She gestured at a bench on one end of the platform, next to the newspaper vending boxes. The
New York Times
headline was about the launch of the second space shuttle orbiter, while the
Avalon Troubadour
proclaimed Camp Kioga Ends Forty-fifth Season.

“What’s the matter?” His chest felt funny, as though he’d just swallowed an ice cube whole.

She sat with her knees pointed toward him. “I think it’s time we both faced facts.”

The spike of ice in his heart radiated its cold agony outward. Though the morning sun warmed the train platform, Philip had to fight against an assault of shivering. “Baby, we spent the whole summer facing facts, and the fact is, we fell in love.”

Her face was a calm mask, the face of a stranger. “I suppose we did, for a while. We had a good time, Philip, but
we
let things go too far.”

“That’s crazy,” he said.

She winced at the loudness of his voice, and cast a quick glance around as if to make sure no one had heard. “It’s not crazy,” she insisted, her voice a half whisper. “What’s crazy is pretending this is going to work out. Pretending we are going to work out.”

“What are you saying? Of course this is going to work out. We have a plan.”

“It’s a bad plan, and it was stupid of me to go along with it. We don’t belong together, Philip. We never have. It just felt that way for the summer.”

Her words pounded at him. “I don’t believe you.” He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. “Something happened,” he said. “Last night, you—we—” He couldn’t find a way to describe how close they’d been without making it sound crude and cheap.

“Last night I was still lying,” she said, her gaze holding his with eerie steadiness. “To you, and to myself.”

“No. You’re lying
now.
You’re scared because I’m leaving. But oh, baby, you don’t have to worry about me. I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it. Of course I’ll be back.”

Her gaze was steady as she looked at him. “That’s why I’m asking you—telling you—to respect my wishes and stay away. I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore, Philip. I had fun with you this summer, but things went too far.”

“We fell in love.”

“That was just something I said. Something we both said,” she explained, sounding weirdly older than her years, “but we were both wrong. It was something that was never meant to last, and now it’s over. I have other plans for my life. I’m going to travel, see new places, meet new people—”

“Of course you are, baby. With me. Didn’t I say I’d take you anywhere you wanted to go?” Philip could hear the desperation in his own voice. He hated the sound of himself begging her, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“You’re not listening,” said Mariska. “I don’t want to see the world with you. You’re a nice guy, Philip, and this summer was great, but now it’s done. I should’ve had the guts to tell you sooner. Summer is over, and so are we. You need to go back to your life, and I need to get on with mine.”

“I don’t have any life without you,” he said, his voice taut with intensity.

“Now you’re being dramatic.” She clutched her purse against her stomach. Her thumbs, the nails bitten down, worried the strap as she spoke. “You have school, and all your friends and any future you want for yourself. And your fiancée, Pamela.”

“I already told you. Pamela and I are done.” He felt sick to his stomach. “I know what it is—you’re mad because we had to sneak around all summer.”

“I’m not mad. You and I are from two completely different worlds, and we need to quit pretending that doesn’t matter.” She gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “Can you picture our families together? My people are Polish immigrants. Yours are Bellamys, for heaven’s sake.”

“God, Mariska. Where is this stuff coming from?” A revelation hit him, and he slapped his forehead. “This is all rehearsed, as if you’re reciting it from a script you memorized. None of this is coming from you. Someone put you up to it.”

“Do you see me talking? Do you hear my voice? I’m finally saying what should have been said long ago. The thing I’ve been lying about all summer is us. I managed to convince myself that I wanted to be with you even though, deep down, I knew it would never work out between us. I’m done now. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

He didn’t even know this girl. She was some stranger.

She stood up, holding her purse in front of her like a shield. “I’m sorry for whatever pain this causes you, but I promise, it’s only temporary. Goodbye, Philip.”

“Don’t go.” He couldn’t help himself. He got up and grabbed her arm, pulled her close. “I won’t let you go. Not now, not ever.”

“Enough,” she said, making a cutting motion with her hand. “I’m breaking up with you, okay? It happens in every relationship except one.
The
one.”

“This is the one,” he said, growing furious with desperation.

“We both know better than that.” She regarded him with cold, empty eyes. Her expression was one he’d never seen before. “I don’t want this to turn ugly, Philip. I swear, I don’t. But if you don’t take your hands off me and let me go, I’ll call for help.”

He heard the sound of cold steel in her voice. He backed off, dropping his hold on her. “I’ll come back for you.”

“I won’t be here.” She turned sharply and walked away from him on the platform.

He hurried after her, reaching out again. “Come on, Mariska. Don’t throw this away.”

She stopped walking, jerked her arm out of reach as her eyes narrowed. “You know, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to be mean about this, but you’re getting on my nerves now. We’re done, period. I’m leaving now, and if you try to follow me, I’ll accuse you of harassment. If you try to contact me, I won’t take your calls or read your letters. Nothing, Philip. Swear to God.” Pivoting, she strode with a curious stiff dignity to the concrete exit stairs.

He took a few steps toward her as though propelled by an invisible force.
We’re done, period.
Her words rang in his head and he stopped. He couldn’t call out to her because his throat was closing up with tears of shock and devastation. He felt himself going numb as she grew smaller and smaller, not hurrying but not looking back, descending the stairs and heading into the pedestrian tunnel that went under Main Street and disappearing without a trace.

The scream of the train’s whistle split the air, making him jump. The engine approached with a hiss of steam and a grinding of brakes. With jerky, mechanical movements, Philip picked up his bag and waited for the train to stop. At the other end of the platform, Matthew Alger was kissing the Barnard girl. People picked up their bags and parcels, shuffled toward the edge of the platform. Philip hesitated, poised to flee. He had to go after Mariska, tell her she was making a mistake, convince her they belonged together.

A chic couple emerged from the station lobby and joined the passengers outside.

The Lightseys, Philip realized, with a dull thud of recognition. What completely lousy timing.

Gwen Lightsey spotted him immediately. “Why, Philip,” she said, “there you are. Your mother told me you’d be on the train today.”

“Hello, ma’am,” he said with a slight inclination of his head. Manners bubbling up like a thermal spring, he shook hands with Samuel Lightsey. “How are you, sir?”

“Excellent, Philip.”

The brakes of the train hissed, drowning out all conversation momentarily. Philip stood aside as Mrs. Lightsey boarded, followed by her husband with their bags.

“Join us, dear,” Mrs. Lightsey called through a half-open window of the train. “I’ve saved you a seat. We’ll have a nice visit on the way back to the city, and we’ll be there in no time.”

Mariska’s words echoed inside his head.
It’s over. I have other plans for my life.

The conductor’s whistle shrilled down the platform.

“Philip, do sit down, son.” Mr. Lightsey frowned. “Did you forget something?”

My people are Polish immigrants. Yours are Bellamys, for heaven’s sake.

The whistle sounded again. He curled his fist around the safety railing. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he went to the banquette seat facing the Lightseys. He stowed his bag overhead and took his seat.

Pamela’s parents were the last people he wanted to see. The truth was, he didn’t want to see anybody. Like a wounded wild animal, he wanted to curl up in the dark alone somewhere and try to heal.

Instead, he found himself facing his parents’ best friends. Mr. and Mrs. Lightsey were earnest and kind, people who had every reason to believe they would become his in-laws one day soon.

He was operating on autopilot, and doing a pretty good job of it, because they didn’t seem to notice anything different about him. Apparently, having your heart stomped on and all your hopes and dreams shattered into a million pieces did not necessarily have any physical symptoms.

He heard a stranger talking about Yale, and his plan to work on the paper this year, and his hopes for the future. And then he realized that stranger was himself.

Mrs. Lightsey—“Do call me Gwen,” she insisted—beamed at him, her trim, elegantly dressed figure swaying with the rhythm of the southbound train. Her jewelry was discreet and tasteful. A slender gold watch. A simple, brilliant diamond ring, a string of pearls, no more. Pamela had once told him that, given the Lightsey jewel fortune, her mother could drape herself in diamonds and gold. But of course, that would be vulgar. Just because you could didn’t mean you should.

He leaned back and arranged his face into a pleasant expression as they spoke to him.

“We couldn’t be happier with the way things are turning out,” she declared.

“Yes, ma’am.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Pamela is going to be so excited to see you,” Mrs. Lightsey concluded.

Philip smiled because he didn’t know what else to do. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, one final time.

I slept and dreamed that life was beauty.

I awoke—and found that life was duty.

—Ellen Sturgis Hooper, American poet

Twenty-Three

“T
hat was the last I saw of Mariska,” Olivia’s dad explained in a tired, distraught voice. “She walked away from me that day and I never saw her again, never spoke to her.”

“Unbelievable,” Olivia said, trying to picture her father, young and desperate as the girl he loved left him. “If you loved her that much, why didn’t you try getting in touch with her? Why didn’t you just miss your train that day?”

He rubbed his forehead as though it ached. “Shock, I suppose. And something about her…she convinced me that she was done. Of course, once I got back to school, I called her again and again. I wrote letters, sent a telegram, even took the train back to Avalon one weekend. Finally her mother said Mariska was gone, told me to quit trying to get in touch with her.”

“So Mariska’s mother knew what was going on?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I suppose I’ll never even know if Mariska realized by then that she was pregnant, or if she was really done with me.” He shook his head. “I should never have believed the things she said to me that day. I should have believed the things she
didn’t
say. Her body language, her nervousness, the way she’d chewed off all her fingernails.”

Olivia’s head was spinning. She knew he was only giving her the bare bones of the story, glossing over the details. But the fact was, he had been in love with Mariska Majesky.

“So did you keep that engagement with Mother just to hedge your bets?”

“It wasn’t like that.” He stared at the sky out the window of his apartment. “I’m not proud of the way I handled the situation, and being young was no excuse for being stupid.”

“What did you tell Mother when you saw her again?”

“I said we should end the engagement. That I didn’t think my heart was still in it.”

“You didn’t think?” Olivia demanded, furious now. “You had the whole summer to think about it. By the time you discussed it with my mother, you should’ve known.”

“I did know,” he admitted.

She glanced at the photo on the table and winced. What hurt her the most was not that he had been with someone else while engaged to her mother. What hurt the most was how happy he had been with Mariska. Olivia had never, ever seen him that happy.