“No!” Fran called back, but RJ had already tossed the ball high in the air and she watched as it fell, dropping neatly through the hoop with a swish.
“Damn it.” Fran cursed and Colin winked at her.
In the lateafternoonthe game broke up, Colin shepherding Charlie into the car and driving off, waving his splinted hand out the window, Eben and Max heading home to shower before a dinner reservation in Gloucester, Stavros promising his kids pizza if they left their sticks behind. Caroline and Van were going to grill, so Fran and RJ decided to stay, ushering the boys across the parking lot and over to Caroline’s cottage, where they could clamber on the rocks of Pavilion Beach while the grown-ups cooked and talked.
RJ was sweaty and red, and he drained beer after beer because, honestly, beer just tasted better than water when it was hot out.
“Hey, it’s my day to get fucked up,” Fran objected.
“It’s just beer,” RJ replied. “I drink beer to sober up.”
RJ strongly believed that if he had too much whiskey, he could get himself back on track with a few beers. It made no sense, but they were both big advocates of cognitive liberty, so Fran let it lie.
Caroline set plates and napkins on the picnic table and put together a salad while Van manned the grill, chicken for the grown-ups and hot dogs for the kids. The boys were playing by the tide pools down below and Fran could see Hale was using his T-shirt as a basket for rocks and shells.
“So, how long have you and RJ been married?” Caroline asked.
“We’ve been together nine years.” Fran smiled.
“We’re not married,” RJ corrected.
“Oh, my bad. I didn’t mean—”
“I was broke when we met and Fran didn’t want to marry a bum,” joked RJ.
“Stop.” Fran shook her head. They didn’t need to have this conversation again. All their friends already thought they were weird, the way they kept their finances separate, but it worked for them. Unlike 90 percent of couples out there, she and RJ never fought about money, never fought about a thing.
“I ask her to marry me all the time,” RJ told Caroline. “I think a guy should marry the mother of his children—no offense, Van.”
“None taken,” Van called over his shoulder.
“RJ and I work just the way we are,” Fran said firmly.
“And I saved ten grand on a diamond,” RJ interrupted.
“See? Everyone’s happy.” Fran ruffled his hair. He was her person. Sure, she sometimes wished he took life more seriously, wished he worked as hard as she did to make their life nicer, but if she’d wanted to marry some straight-arrow investment banker she would have done that. Instead, she’d chosen someone who made her laugh.
Six
Bailey
Loudmouth
Caroline Lash was always apologizing to Bailey. In the kitchen she would say, “Sorry, do you know where the forks are?” At the beach she would say, “Sorry, did you want a water?” In Augusta’s backyard she would wave away a bee on Bailey’s arm and say, “Sorry, it was a bee.”
Bailey and Augusta joked about it. “Sorry I got you a present.” “Sorry I saved you from the fire.” “Sorry I gave you a kidney.” Bailey knew what Caroline was really saying. With every little microapology she was really saying “Sorry I stole your boyfriend.”
It was the weekend, and they were on Loudmouth Beach, the part of Crane’s that looked across the water at the Neck. The tide was draining out, leaving an enormous pool between the sandbar and the beach. The sun had warmed the pool for hours and it was like a huge, deep bath, a good ten degrees warmer than the ocean. Fran’s and Augusta’s kids were chasing minnows with buckets. London was wearing goggles and acting as scout while Hale and Charlie dutifully followed his orders, jumping into the water whenever he saw a silver flicker of fish.Everyone had brought coolers of hard seltzer and vodka soda and the guys stood chest-deep in the tide pool drinking out of cozies. RJ had on a big straw lifeguarding hat and sunglasses and looked like a beachy version of Smokey the Bear, and Colin was wearing a long-sleeve rash guard and baseball cap, his neck slathered with whitish zinc. They were the dads, and as Bailey watched them drinking and laughing, she couldn’t help but notice the difference between them and the guys without kids. Vanny was shirtless and his body looked just like it had ten years ago, his stomach flat and his arms and chest muscled. Eben and Max were both slim and fit, wearing shorts that showed their tanned thighs. It was just true that once her friends had kids, they had less time to focus on caring slavishly for their own bodies—less time to go to the gym, less time to run for miles in the early morning hours. But it was more than that, it was the way the parents always had slightly random sunburns because after chasing around their children with sticks and sprays they could barely remember to grease up their own skin, it was the way the parents were always a week or two behind on a haircut or a day late on a shave. Bailey would never say something like that aloud, it sounded rude and judgmental, but she actually thought it was beautiful, that it was a sign of selflessness to have abandoned vanity for the sake of family. Not that she planned to do it herself. Vanity was a character flaw she had no intention of correcting.
Augusta had a bag of fruit, peaches and plums, and she offered them around. She looked adorable in a green one-piece, her strawberry-blond hair in a ponytail, a spray of freckles across her nose. “No thanks, I’m trying to cut back on plums,” RJ said, patting his belly and taking a swig of vodka, and Colin cackled. Caroline took a peach, and out of the corner of her eye Bailey watched her eat it neatly, carefully folding the pit into a paper towel instead of tossing it into the dunes. Caroline was wearing a black bikini and a pair of small, oval sunglasses. Her skinwas starting to tan and her hair was in small clips. Caroline was attractive, Bailey could admit it, but in an entirely different way than Bailey herself. While Bailey and her sisters spent their teenage years getting approached by sketchy men at the mall who said they were “model scouts,” Caroline looked like she should be playing the violin or writing with a fountain pen. She didn’t blow-dry or curl her brown hair, she wore glasses most of the time, but she had nice, delicate features, eyebrows she had clearly never overplucked, and small, perky boobs. Bailey turned to look at Hale and London so she’d stop watching the girl like a creep.
“So, I asked RJ what he thought it would be like if we switched bodies for a day,” said Fran, wading over to where Bailey and Augusta stood watching the kids. Fran’s swimsuit was an old one, slightly stretched out and starting to curl along the straps.
“Oh yeah? Did he give you detailed instructions on his body brushing practice?” Bailey joked.
“Did he worry you’d wax all his chest hair and eyebrows?”
“Ha! No, he said that if he were in my body he’d spend the whole day masturbating,” said Fran, laughing gleefully.