Part 21 (1/2)

”Hi, there,” Matt says.

She looks up and squints at him. ”h.e.l.lo. Do you know what time it is?” She's about thirty-five, he thinks, but looks about forty-five.

He checks his watch. ”Two-fifteen.”

”What do you think?” she says. ”About two more hours?”

”I don't know,” Matt says. ”Two or three.”

She opens her purse; it's small and white and-lizard? Ellen would know. She withdraws a pack of cigarettes and pulls one out. ”Do you have a light?”

Matt pats his front pockets, although he knows he doesn't. ”Sorry,” he says. ”Would you like-would you like me to get you a drink?”

She laughs. ”No,” she says. ”I'm just fine.” She pulls a lighter from her purse and lights her own cigarette.

”Well, bye,” Matt says. ”See you later.”

THE CHILDREN HAVE divided into three groups. The largest contains most of the boys and two or three girls; they've taken the opportunity to shed their parents and their clothes, and they're running in their swimsuits between the pond and the table up by the house, where the potato chips are. They send two emissaries at a time; as soon as one pair returns to the pond with a paper plate full of chips, the next sets off at a run, so they are almost never without provisions.

The second group is four or five girls who have their swimsuits on under their clothes but don't want to swim in the pond, because it's murky, or in the pool, because all the grown-ups are sitting or standing near it. They sit at the one picnic table, which is shaded by an umbrella, and talk about the counselors they had at camp this summer.

The last group isn't really a group at all: a few toddlers playing in the sandbox Papa Louie built long ago for Lucy, his first grandchild; two serious little boys who found a checkers game in the house and are lying on the living room rug, talking about the best openings; and Elias.

Elias has finally gathered the courage to lean against the swing. He's not quite tall enough to climb on it, but he thinks that sooner or later his dad will come along and lift him up. A while ago a man asked him if he was having fun, and he said yes, but the man didn't seem to care one way or the other-he stood there for a while and then walked away. Elias knows he's supposed to have fun-his mother told him he would have a blast.

Just when he's thinking of her, up walks his uncle Stuart, whom Elias knows she doesn't like-she said once that Stuart was a little devil on his dad's shoulder. Stuart is just as tall as his dad, though: Elias checked.

”Elias, my man,” Stuart says. ”Lunchtime! What do you say to a burger?”

”OK,” Elias says.

Stuart is wearing a s.h.i.+rt just like his dad's-just like Elias's, too, only bigger. It's a special kind of s.h.i.+rt that has to be dry-cleaned. Once Elias saw Stuart sitting at his dad's desk and he thought Stuart was his dad. He stood in the doorway and said, ”Hi, Dad,” and Stuart laughed-with him, his dad said later, not at him. Elias will never make that mistake again.

LOUISA FINDS ELLEN upstairs, in the bunk room. She's got the shades drawn; she's lying on one of the little iron beds.

”Can I bring you anything?” Louisa says. ”Iced tea? A pear?”

Ellen smiles wanly, but she doesn't make the family joke: Oh, are there pears? ”No, thanks,” she says.

Louisa sits on the edge of the bed and pats her daughter's hip. ”I was thinking about what you said on the phone last night, hon. About you and Matt maybe going away for six months or something? I think that's very smart, and Dad and I would be happy to help out. You could go somewhere exotic and wonderful.”

Ellen rolls over so she's facing the wall. ”What would be the point?”

”Well,” Louisa says, ”it might give you something else to think about.”

Now Ellen doesn't say anything.

”You know?” Louisa strokes Ellen's hair, her pretty dark hair.

”I'd kind of like to be alone, Mom,” Ellen says.

Louisa pulls her hand away and stands up. ”OK,” she says. ”I'll be outside if you want me.”

She closes the door behind her, but hesitates before starting down the narrow staircase. Last night Ellen was so open with her-Louisa felt that perhaps she had finally reached a turning point. Today it's as if they never even had that conversation. It's strange to Louisa-strange and sad-that the best talks she's ever had with either of her daughters have all been on the telephone.

LUCY'S OUT ON the raft in the middle of the pond, motioning for Matt to join her. He didn't bring his swimming trunks, but he thinks, Oh, who cares?, and he takes off his shoes and s.h.i.+rt and dives in. The water is warm and green, mucky: he's never understood why everyone swims here when there's a perfectly good pool up by the house.

He pulls himself onto the raft, but suddenly he feels shy; since Ellen lost the baby he and Lucy have taken to doing this, going off and talking, and he feels at once protective of and a little guilty about this new standing with his sister-in-law.

”Hey,” Lucy says. ”How are you?”

”Mezzo,” he says. ”Mezzo-soprano.”

She smiles and scoots over so he can lie next to her. ”Is it burger time yet up there?” she says. ”I felt a hunger pang a while back.”

”Any minute now.”

”Ellen's inside?”

”Upstairs.”

They lie quietly. The sun feels nice on Matt's back; he even likes the thick green smell of the water drying on his skin.

”Hey, did you see Elias up there?” Lucy says. ”In that little Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt?”

”I didn't know they made them that small.”

”They probably don't. Jeremy probably had it made-at considerable expense.” She lowers her voice, although of course no one can hear them. ”I have this horrible feeling that someone made him get a perm. His hair wasn't that curly at Pansy's birthday party.”

”Really?” Matt says. ”You're kidding.”

”I wish.”

”He doesn't really seem like the happiest kid in the world, does he?”

”No,” Lucy says, ”and you know what? I'm not sure Jeremy's the happiest man in the world, either.”

”I'd trade him my mood for his car.”

She laughs. ”What a deal.”

They're quiet again. The stillness of the day, the pond-it feels to Lucy like something breakable.

”She won't sleep with me,” Matt says.

Lucy raises herself onto her elbows and looks at him.

”No,” he says quickly, ”I mean sleep sleep. She's started sleeping in the living room-except I don't think she really does. Last night I swear I heard her wandering around for hours.”

”G.o.d,” Lucy says. ”G.o.d.”