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Cameron
The atmosphere is festive while we eat dinner on the front porch. The wind dies down, but Hattie wears two sweaters, which entertains Shirlene and me quite a bit. After cleaning up, Hattie announces that she is going to put the baby down and go into her room to read for the night. Not too obvious, but the dear woman is trying to give Shirlene and me a chance to talk alone.
“How about some Kohr’s frozen custard?” Shirlene asks.
“Absolutely.”
We both grab sweatshirts because it’s after sunset.
“They’ll have their pumpkin flavor now.” I hold the front-porch screen door open for Shirlene.
“Oh, I love pumpkin anything.”
Aimee’s body walks next to me up the path to the boardwalk, but Shirlene is definitely inside. I nearly say out loud that for Aimee, pumpkin was for pie only, and every other version was blasphemy. But I don’t want to bring up Aimee. Not yet. I’m enjoying the even keel we are experiencing together. It’s almost like we’ve gone back to summer, before Chase and Rain showed up.
Shirlene and I stroll in comfortable silence along the boardwalk. Shops are still open, and people are out enjoying the nice weather. The town will hum along through to Christmas before some places button up for the winter.
“Have you been here at Christmas?” Shirlene asks.
“You were reading my mind.”
Aimee smiles at me—no, it’s Shirlene. I clear my throat. “I was just thinking about the holidays. There’s a big tree set up here.” I point to the bandstand as we get close to Kohr Brothers. “It draws quite a large crowd for the tree lighting, and Santa is up on the boardwalk in a small wooden house.”
“Sounds lovely.”
I take her comment as a good sign. We wait to order our cones. I could easily stay here with Shirlene and Arlene—and Hattie, if she’d like—through the holidays. We could decorate a tree by my grandmother’s fireplace. There’d be presents under it for Arlene. Then I’ll be back to school in the New Year.
“Sir, what flavor?” The woman in the brightly lit stand hands Shirlene her cone.
“Pumpkin and cinnamon swirl in a cone.”
“Yum.” Shirlene will have her cone devoured before I start mine.
“Let’s sit down.” We go to a bench where we can see the beach.
Shirlene shivers. “Could you hold my cone while I slip my sweatshirt on?”
“Is it too cold for ice cream?”
“Never. Look, the moon is coming up over the ocean.” Shirlene points.
Moonlight begins dancing across the waves, shifting the mood. I become keenly aware of Shirlene’s breathing and warmth close to me. I long to touch her. Her, not Aimee. But I can’t ignore that Aimee’s body is next to me.
Shirlene devours the bottom of her cone. Aimee would have nibbled at it forever.
“I wonder if the water is too cold for swimming.” Shirlene watches the surf.
I’m taken back to summer, when Shirlene dove into the sea with complete abandonment in Rain’s body. She was like a joyful dolphin. Aimee preferred pools. The idea of fish and other living things in the water with her gave her the creeps.
“Ready to head back?” Shirlene gets up.
I finish my custard. “Sure.” I look at her face. She isn’t wearing any makeup. Aimee wouldn’t have been caught dead without makeup. I laugh.
Shirlene’s unadorned eyebrows rise.
“Nothing,” I say.
I can’t tell her I’m amused over the irony that Aimee is dead without makeup. Sick. I’m finding humor in the most unfunny things now.
“Do you mind if we go back along the beach? The moonlight is so beautiful.” Shirlene takes off her shoes and sinks her feet into the sand. “Ahh.”
I remain in my sneakers. It’s too chilly for bare feet.
We meander down the deserted beach, watching the waves.
“We have so much we need to talk about.” Shirlene zips up her sweatshirt.
My stomach lurches. “I know.”
“I’ve been working with Aimee’s psychiatrist.”
“Are you depressed?”
She glances over. It’s darker now that we’ve left the lights of the boardwalk, and I can’t quite gauge her expression.
“Just like Rain’s addiction surfaced, so has Aimee’s depression. If one of them was diabetic, I’d be diabetic now.”
“I understand. How’s it going?”
“You know me—I thought I could cut back because I’m older, wiser, possibly tougher, but chemistry has the upper hand. I take her stroke medications without question, so after a conversation with the doctor yesterday, I’m on the same antidepressant dosages.”
“Good. You don’t want to mess with that.”
“I realize it now.”
“How is it talking to Aimee’s psychiatrist?”
“When I have to pretend to be Aimee with her doctors, it’s extremely uncomfortable. My hands sweat from nerves.”
Aimee apologized for her clammy hands on our first date, but I’m not going to mention it to Shirlene.
“It’s so weird that my doctor knows more about me than I do.”
“If you need to ask me anything about Aimee, I’ll tell you what I can.”
We reach the stairs to the boardwalk in front of my house. “Okay. Thanks.”
But she doesn’t ask me anything. At least, not right now. “It’s a relief to be able to be me with Hattie and with you,” she says.
“And Arlene.”
“And Arlene.” She waves good night before going into the house. It’s Shirlene waving, not Aimee.
I stay to enjoy the moonlight on the water.