In the origin story of their friendship, Kelsey was always the prettier, richer, bolder, brasher, more fabulous one. When they first stepped onto the deck at Showfish, May felt herself shrink, immediately feeling Plain Jane in her simple black shirt-dress and sandals compared to the Hamptons Chic that was on full display. But Kelsey seemed immediately at home, chatting up the hostess and scoring them an A-list table by the deck’s edge, overlooking the marina.
Even in their primo spot, the Jimmy Buffett song that was playing over the speakers as they finished dinner was barely audible beneath the sounds of overly excited, alcohol-fueled summer voices. May had wanted to go to Rowdy Hall in East Hampton, both because it was much chiller than its name would suggest and because it was relatively close to the rental house. Lauren was the one who decided they should find a place near the water, and Kelsey decided she had a craving for lobster, so they had made the trip all the way to Montauk on the east end of the South Fork. At least Lauren had been right about Kelsey’s driving skills. Not a single swerve detected.
Kelsey had just ordered a round of espresso martinis for dessert when her phone buzzed on the table.
She snuck a quick peek. “It’s Nate,” she said. “Bummer. He didn’t get the commercial he was hoping to shoot next week.” Nate was still trying to make a go of it as an actor in New York City, but May’s impression was that he was nowhere close to becoming a success. If she had to guess, Kelsey was probably finding a way to supplement his income. “But that means he’s free to come out on Monday. Speak now, Lauren, or forever hold your peace.”
Lauren smiled and shook her head. “I already told you. I’m good. I kind of like how he acts like a little brother around me, so sweet and respectful. My brothers still treat me like I’m in middle school.”
May had been expecting Lauren and Kelsey to try to convince her to stay longer. She had even packed extra underwear just in case she changed her mind. Now that wouldn’t be an option with another person taking over her room at the house—especially when that person was Nate.
Kelsey made a show of widening her eyes as she scrolled through the message. “He said he’s going to take the early train, so maybe he’ll get a chance to see you before you head home, May. Very…interesting.”
Lauren bumped one knee against May’s, smirking. “Maybe he’s coming to sweep you off your feet,” she said. “One last chance for a ride on some strange before you’re locked down for life.”
“Gross,” Kelsey said. “You did not just call my brother a piece of strange.”
“Technically a stepbrother,” Lauren said. “Come on, you’ve never noticed that Nate is fine?”
“I’m going to jump off this deck into the ocean if you don’t stop talking about him like that,” Kelsey said. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
“So apparently incest jokes are a step too far, even for you. Duly noted. I’ll confess though, I’m surprised, May, that you didn’t get back with Nate after he moved to New York. I really did think the two of you might go the distance.”
“Really?” May asked. “A lawyer and an actor?”
“You weren’t a lawyer when you first dated. You were a brilliant pianist with a big, bright, bookish brain. And Nate loved the theater but wanted to be a successful real estate developer like his dad.”
“Stepdad, as my father has made it all too clear,” Kelsey corrected, her voice suddenly sharp. May knew how wrecked Kelsey was after her father’s divorce from Nate’s mother broke apart the only family she’d really known after her own mother died, but she always seemed reluctant to talk about the details of the split. Yet the children, through their own commitment, remained siblings for all practical purposes.
“Plus you had little Miss Kelsey over here playing matchmaker,” Lauren said. “She told me so many times how perfect it would be if you ended up being her sister-in-law. You and Nate just seemed to make a lot of sense. And did I mention that the man is fine AF?”
May couldn’t argue with that last part. Nate was and apparently always would be the best-looking guy she had ever dated. And it wasn’t only his looks that were a draw. He was smart and funny and confident. Josh was also all those things, but Josh was a nerd like May. Nate was most definitely not a nerd. He was a cool guy. He had what the kids these days called rizz. Serious charisma. The way Kelsey could make men stupid? Nate had that effect on women—at least in May’s experience.
“In theory,” she said, “but it obviously wasn’t meant to be. And it’s definitely not going to happen now. Josh is the one for me. From the first day I met him, we just…clicked.” Her own words surprised her as they came tumbling out. It had been so much bumpier and complicated than that.
“Vomit,” Kelsey said, a sly smile creeping across her face.
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Lauren said, placing a gentle hand on May’s forearm. “But is it okay for us to hate you a little bit for that?”
“Only a little,” May said.
The truth was that it took the lockdown—and multiple lectures from May’s mother—for May to realize she’d be crazy to risk losing a guy as nice as Josh, all because she still wasn’t sure she was ready for such a serious commitment. Josh was solid. He had a good job. He was kind and reliable and loyal. And he adored her. She finally said yes, not just to Josh’s proposal, but to a Fordham law professor’s invitation to apply for a tenure-track faculty position. Apparently they were looking to expand their pool of candidates beyond the usual path that lawyers followed into academia. She went from having a stressful, exciting job and relatively messy relationships to having the rest of her life suddenly all planned at once.
She had no idea why she had poured it on so thick about being certain about Josh from day one. Anything for Lauren to stop talking about how Nate had seemed to be a perfect match for her. Maybe he was and maybe he wasn’t, but she hated even thinking about the way she had been with him.
Kelsey’s eyes widened as the waitress arrived with a tray containing three gigantic martini glasses filled so high that it took an expert hand to place them on the table without spilling. Kelsey held her phone high above the round of drinks to get a photo.
May leaned forward to take an initial sip before daring to lift the glass. She knew the dangerous mix of sweetened caffeine and alcohol would mean rolling into a new level of intoxication, but she didn’t want to be the one to kill the party, and Kelsey had already promised before they ordered a bottle of wine with dinner that they’d take an Uber home.
“Kelsey, I hope you don’t mind, but can you please not tag me in any posts? I don’t need my 1Ls finding pictures of me getting hammered in Montauk with my besties.”
“As if you need to ask me—of all people—to keep a photo private,” Kelsey said.
May found herself straining to hear Kelsey over the sound of their fellow diners. Were they actually getting louder as the night progressed, or had May reached her limit for being out in public?
“I hardly even remember to take pictures anymore,” May said, forcing herself to focus on their conversation rather than drawing inward the way she tended to do at the end of a busy day. “Once I stepped back from social media, I fell out of the habit. Like, what do you even do with a photo if you’re never going to share it?”
Kelsey tucked her phone into her bag. “I still like to have them for my own personal memories. And I meant it about making some kind of scrapbook for all of us—and just us, I promise.”
“I told Josh I wanted to ask all of our friends not to take pictures at the wedding—or at least not to tag us in their posts—but he said he thought it would be rude.”
Lauren’s vicious side-eye made her exasperation clear. “Maybe Josh should let you decide for yourself what you can and want to expect from the friends you choose to share your wedding day with.” Lauren had only met Josh twice, so May didn’t think her distaste for him was personal. Lauren simply didn’t believe in shaping her life around a man’s expectations. She had never said directly that she disapproved of May’s decision to get married, but she didn’t hold her tongue when she thought May was compromising too much of herself in order to please Josh—or anyone else for that matter.
“I told him I thought he was being pretty judgy for shutting me down so quickly, but he said he really didn’t think I even needed to worry anymore. Everything has blown over by now. The guy from the subway didn’t get charged for assault, and I didn’t get charged for filing a false report.” May knew the man’s name, of course—Darren Foster—but rarely used it. She wished it were possible, in fact, never to think about him. If she could undergo a lobotomy to forget that day on the subway platform in its entirety, she’d happily sign the waiver forms. “Now I’m just some boring law professor no one needs to talk about anymore, as long as I don’t write any more viral op-eds.”
“Wish I could say the same thing,” Kelsey muttered.
May cringed inwardly when she realized how self-pitying she had sounded. She had been able to move on from her “incident,” while Kelsey’s situation would never change as long as Luke’s murder remained unsolved. She was wondering how she might apologize when she saw Kelsey searching for the waitress again, her martini nearly gone. This time, she ordered a cosmopolitan. Lauren and May shook their heads, gesturing toward their relatively full glasses. “Don’t listen to them,” Kelsey told the waitress. “Three cosmos. They’re getting drunk and they love it. And no, we’re not driving.”
The waitress stared at May and Lauren, expecting an objection, then left when they did not argue.
Kelsey had always been a bigger partier than May. Even on their Zooms, May had noticed that Kelsey would be making a second drink—a cocktail, not wine—while she and Lauren were still working on their first glass of sauvignon blanc. But what she was doing tonight felt more like self-medication than recreational drinking. May was beginning to wonder if Kelsey was forcing herself to seem fun and carefree, just for their sakes.
When the drinks arrived, Kelsey told them that they at least had to have one sip with her. When they did have an obligatory taste, Kelsey let out a satisfied sigh. “Bless, that tastes exactly like the early aughts,” she said. “And sorry, Lauren, it totally brings back the memory of that night when we thought you just might murder us. You were so pissed. It was honestly terrifying.”
Lauren looked confused for a moment and then placed her face in her hands, laughing. “Oh lord, it was cosmos that night, wasn’t it? Other kids, I’d catch with Bud Light or shots of Jägermeister. No, fifteen-year-old Kelsey Ellis has to host a cocktail party like she’s Carrie Fucking Bradshaw. I was surprised you didn’t have Jimmy Choo stilettos and a Prada handbag for the occasion.”
May hadn’t caught the reference until Lauren connected the dots. It was the first weekend at camp, the summer after ninth grade. Kelsey had managed to smuggle in a handle of vodka and all the fixings for lemon drops and cosmos, complete with a cocktail shaker. There were red Solo cups in lieu of stemmed glassware, but it all felt terribly sophisticated nonetheless. Even though Kelsey had sworn all the girls to secrecy and they were making a point not to be loud, Lauren had managed to bust them anyway. After threatening to call their parents and send them home for the summer, she eventually settled for marching them out to the lake and watching them pour all the alcohol into the water.
“You still owe me a bottle of Grey Goose,” Kelsey said wryly.
“How did you even know to barge into our cabin like that?” May asked. “After all these years, just go ahead and tell us. It had to have been Marnie, wasn’t it?”
The mention of her name—Marnie Mann—felt like a record-scratch moment. Lauren put her drink down, her smile fading. Kelsey coughed and looked down at the table awkwardly.
Their conversations over the past year never touched on Marnie. They almost always focused on the present. Their jobs. May’s wedding plans. Kelsey’s father’s prostate cancer treatment and the trauma it had triggered from her mother’s early death from ovarian cancer. Lauren’s bathroom remodel. Even just the Spelling Bee. That was the Canceled Crew group thread’s entire purpose—a form of steady, daily companionship, proving that life does move on.
Now that they were strolling down memory lane, May had somehow managed to pivot from Kelsey’s lighthearted reference to getting busted for drinking, to the name of the girl whose death had changed everything that final summer at Wildwood.
“I’m sorry.” The words were out of May’s mouth before she even registered them. Josh had told her once that he was tempted to keep a tally of how many times she apologized on a daily basis. “I shouldn’t have mentioned her. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”
Lauren took a small sip of her pink cocktail, a smile returning to her face. “It’s fine, May. To be honest, I really don’t remember how I knew about your fancy little cocktail cabin party. It was such a long time ago.”
May couldn’t tell whether Lauren was telling the truth, and Kelsey quickly changed the subject. “Man, I’m going to miss this,” she said, her eyes closing contentedly as she took another sip of her cosmo.
“Aw, it’s only the first day of the trip,” May said.
“No, I mean booze. Being buzzed is quite delightful.”
“Wait, what?” May said, covering her mouth with one hand. There was only one reason she could imagine Kelsey giving up drinking.
“Are you seriously thinking about doing it?” Lauren asked, leaning forward at the table. “When? I can’t believe you haven’t told us until now.”
“I mean, I’m thirty-seven years old. I thought Luke and I would be raising children together, and that obviously didn’t happen. I’ve been waiting to see if the man I eventually end up with will be on board, but the fact is, I may have to do this on my own. I can’t keep living in limbo.”
May had so many regrets about falling out of touch with Kelsey, but the biggest one of all was that she was not around to support Kelsey when she had to make what she still described as the most difficult decision of her life. At her doctor’s suggestion, she decided to get tested for a mutation in the BRCA1 gene that greatly increases a woman’s chances of both breast cancer and the ovarian cancer that killed Kelsey’s mother. The test came back positive, and Kelsey faced a grueling choice: Do nothing and live with the knowledge that a fatal diagnosis could come at any moment, or do something to save her life, which meant a prophylactic double mastectomy and the removal of her ovaries. She and Luke hadn’t even celebrated their first anniversary yet. Kelsey chose the surgeries, but, before the procedures, had her eggs harvested and fertilized, freezing the embryos to keep all options open for the future. And May hadn’t been around to help her through any of it. She was never going to make that mistake again.
“So when is this all happening?” May asked. “I can come up to Boston to be with you.”
“Oh, there’s no concrete date yet, and I’ll probably change my mind again tomorrow. And then again next week and the week after that. I keep thinking, you know, once the police finally find out what really happened to Luke, my life could be normal again—or sort of normal. I could get married and have a partner for this parenting thing. It’s hard enough to find someone willing to date me once they do a Google search, but I’m going to be a single mother on top of it? Talk about a deal-breaker, ladies.”
Part of May was tempted to warn Kelsey that it was unlikely the police would ever locate Luke’s killer. The fact that Luke’s glove box was found open had led to speculation that the money bag from his cash drop had been stashed there and grabbed after the shooting. There was a brief glimmer of hope for an arrest when the police linked a fingerprint on the car door handle to an ex-convict with a robbery conviction, but it turned out he worked as a valet at a restaurant Luke had gone to two weeks before he was killed. The case had been cold for five years. But May couldn’t offer her professional opinion to Kelsey without admitting that she’d been following the facts of her husband’s case the whole time May had been out of touch with her.
“You don’t need a husband to be happy,” May said.
“Says the bride-to-be planning her wedding to the guy she just clicked with the first time she met him,” Kelsey said with a sad smile. “Anyway, don’t listen to me. I was babbling like a messy Blanche DuBois and ruining all the fun.”
“You never have to apologize for talking about your life to us,” Lauren said.
“That’s a really important decision,” May said. “Of course we want you to tell us.”
“Well, except it’s not a decision. Not yet. One moment, it feels like I should just go ahead and pull the trigger. Fifteen minutes later, it feels completely impossible.” Kelsey abruptly veered into party mode again, brightening up instantaneously. “Looks like they’re closing down here. Let’s forget all this serious stuff and go back to the house, okay?” She began to fumble with her phone, but May already had the address loaded into the Uber app.
She signaled for the bill, but when the waitress appeared with it, she dropped it intentionally in front of Kelsey, who already had a card in the palm of her hand. Even wasted off her ass, Kelsey was still on top of it, just like always.