MAUREEN
The ocean air dries my hair as I walk, sandals in hand, through the sand up to Phillip’s house. I know Clay won’t be there at least, and Phillip said his wife was leaving again. Summer is almost over. It might be my last time with him, and I plan to use it well. I need to use it well. It’s my last chance to make everything right again.
I approach the Bishop house from the back as always, slipping up the dunes to the deck. The curtains are drawn, the way he usually does when we are together. Maybe he’s expecting me. I decide to go around to the front door. Like a normal person, not some mistress to hide. If his wife is still there, I can pretend I’m looking for Clay and no harm done. Just a silly bunny looking for her beau.
I knock and press my ear against the door and hear a woman’s voice, then footsteps heading toward the door. I prepare my wonder eyes—oh, Clay’s not here?—as the person fumbles with the door lock, taking a while, but it’s Phillip who answers, Phillip who eyes me suspiciously. Do I see a hint of nervousness in him?
“Mr. Bishop?” I ask innocently, smiling brightly at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I disturbing you? I’m looking for Clay.”
He breaks into a smile, looks back into the room briefly and opens the door wide. “Come in, quickly,” he says, “before the neighbors see.”
“You’re alone?” The air smells sweet, a scent I recognize from somewhere, but I can’t place it. Had I just interrupted something?
“Yes, I told you Lorelei was leaving this weekend.” He’s slurring, a large goblet of wine in his hand.
“I thought I heard voices.”
“Paranoid, my love?” He leans in and kisses me sloppily. He’s unattractive in his current state, but I have to play my part.
“Just want you all to myself, is all.”
As we move to the kitchen, I still can’t shake the feeling that someone’s here. Phillip fumbles in the refrigerator, and I walk around the island, trying to figure out what’s different. I notice a dirty wine glass in the sink. When he turns around I’m waiting for him. “Throwing a party for yourself?” I ask, holding up the dirty wineglass.
He chuckles. “You know what a snob I am. When I change wines, I change glasses, my dear.”
“Do you also change lipsticks?” It’s clear now, the tray of cheese and crackers on the counter, the crumpled blanket on the couch, the closed-up blinds. Does he think I’m that clueless?
“Oh, Maureen, my lobster.” He turns his palms out. My god, he’s drunk. “You caught me. I had a friend over earlier. She’s an old friend from my high school days, and Lorelei is jealous of her. Hates her, in fact. For some reason, I thought it best not to tell you about it either. I guess it’s just a habit of mine.”
“To lie?” I say coolly. I realize I can’t get mad at him, not yet. I need him. I soften my face. “It’s okay. You can tell me these things.” I step close and cup his cheek.
“What do you see in me, anyway?” he asks. “I’m old and wrinkled and pale compared to Clay. You think that, don’t you?”
“Gosh, no,” I say, kissing him. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“When you’re with me, you think about him. I know it.” He walks into the den, slumping into a chair.
I go over, try to pull him up. “Actually, I want you to go outside with me. On the beach.”
“Oh no, Maureen. I’m much too tired for that.”
“Please? It will cheer you up. I promise. There’s a meteor shower tonight. I want you to watch it with me.” I come close, hold his hand. “I want to share everything with you. This is our last night together. Let’s make it special.”