Chapter 28
And so to the Schoolman Suite. The color scheme appears to be a celebration of New England foliage—emerald-green paintwork, orangey-gold wallpaper, red accent walls. And then along come the trademark traveler’s treasures: a tarnished Moroccan lantern strung overhead, a rich Persian rug beneath our feet and a pair of bow-legged coffee tables that look as though they’ve been lifted from the back of an elephant in Siam.
Pamela and Ravenna are sharing the king-size bed at the top of the wrought-iron staircase. Their loft area has a particularly beautiful window in the shape of a fan. Of course it’s dark now, but that’s going to be quite something to wake up to.
“Sleep well,” I say as I leave them to it.
My bedroom is off the living room, through a pair of sliding doors. The walls are of scalloped wood, similar to some of the houses we saw today. It has dusty pink accents, fringed lamps and a floral bedhead that I am more than ready to be propped against. But I feel I should offer it to Charles one more time before I succumb—I personally only lasted an hour on the deck in Newport.
“Honestly, I’d be perfectly happy sleeping on one of the sofas,” I insist as I lean out into the cool air.
Instead of replying, he beckons me over. “I hear Pamela told you?”
Ah. He wants to talk. “She did,” I confirm. “Congratulations?”
“I know this isn’t what you signed up for, a lot of family drama on this trip.”
“Actually I sort of did. I promised Gracie I’d stick it out, come what may.”
He smiles. “She’s a force of nature, that one.”
“Yes she is.”
I’m about to turn back inside when he asks, “Are you close with your father?”
“No,” I say simply. “I never really knew him.”
“Well, I can certainly relate to what he’s missed out on.”
I’m not quite sure what to say in reply. “I think Ravenna is very lucky to have a dad like you, however belatedly. And you two have got plenty of time ahead of you.”
“If she accepts me.”
“I don’t think it’s you she’s going to have the problem with.”
Charles heaves a sigh. “She carries a lot of resentment toward her mother, doesn’t she?”
“She does. But I think there’s hope.”
His eyes meet mine. “Thank you for saying that.”
I feel tears welling as a voice within murmurs, “I wish I had a dad like you.” I take a steadying breath. “Anyway, I should get to bed, early start tomorrow.”
“Of course.”
“Last chance to swap.” I hesitate.
“Honestly, I’m fine. I love camping. And this is more like, what’s the new term?”
“Glamping?” I smile.
“That’s it.”
“Good night.”
“Good night Laurie.”
• • •
Despite all the thoughts swirling in my head, I fall asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow. But within a few hours I’m awake again, parched from our Tea Dance boozing. I desperately need a slug of water and remember there are glasses in the bathroom. Of course at home I can feel my way around in the dark but here I fear that would involve knocking down a series of irreplaceable heirlooms. Using the light from my phone I beam a pathway, but when I push open the mirrored door, I see that someone has beaten me to it.
There on the floor is Ravenna, lit by the jewel-hued moonlight and chugging with silent tears.
“What is it?” I hurry to her side. “What’s the matter?”
She shakes her head, turning her face away from me.
Oh my god—has she found out? Did she overhear something?
“Ravenna . . .” For once my approach is gentle.
“I don’t want to talk about it!” she protests.
I bite my lip. “Is it really so awful?”
She nods her head vigorously. “But you wouldn’t understand.”
I sigh and then settle onto the dusky grape carpet beside her. “Try me.”
She looks back at me, wary but desperate.
“Go on,” I encourage.
“I put on two pounds.”
Is she serious?
“That’s why you’re so upset?” I gawp.
She nods.
“Nobody will even notice!”
“Eon will.”
“I assure you he won’t. He might even like it.”
She scoffs. “He wouldn’t like it. And he would know.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She wipes her tears with the heels of her hands. And then she looks me right in the eye. “He weighed me before I left.”
This stops me in my tracks.
“He weighed you?”
“He was worried that spending so much time around my mother would involve a lot of eating. And he was right. You’ve no idea what I’ve gorged on today,” her voice trembles. “It’s totally gross.”
My jaw is still slack. “He actually got you to stand on the scales?”
“Yes.”
“And that didn’t ring any alarm bells with you?”
“What do you mean?” Her pink eyes peer into me.
“It didn’t strike you as a little creepy? A little controlling?”
“He just wants the best for me.”
“And that ‘best’ comes at a particular weight?”
She sighs impatiently. “There’s not an exact number. He just doesn’t want me to end up like my mother.”
“Meaning?”
“He doesn’t want a fat girlfriend.”
“He said that?” I feel physically sick.
“Yes.”
“He said those words?”
“What’s the big deal? He’s just being honest. I respect that.”
I lean back on the wooden siding of the bath, taking a moment to compose myself. “You know, I had a boyfriend say that to me once. It’s such an ugly sentiment, but he said it so casually, like he was just giving me a friendly tip-off. When in fact it was, of course, a threat.”
“It’s different with Eon. He says he doesn’t want me to change because he loves me just as I am,” she pouts.
I give a little snort. “You can justify his comment all you like, but tell me, how does it make you feel when he says that kind of thing?”
She concedes a shrug. “Well. It’s not exactly reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be. It’s designed to keep you on your toes—to keep you feeling vulnerable, on edge.” I look at her. “Is that how you feel?”
“Well, I do sometimes wonder if I’m wearing the right thing or whether he likes my hair a certain way . . . But doesn’t every woman want to look nice for her man?”
“Of course, but she shouldn’t be afraid that his feelings for her would be altered by how she looks on a particular day.”
“I think it’s different for Eon because he has such a heightened sense of style,” Ravenna explains. “He’s just started working in the fashion industry.”
“Oh jeez.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, in and of itself. It’s just a fantastic excuse for him to run his mouth on how you look every day.”
“The thing is, he’s so perfect. I hate to feel like I’m letting him down.”
Wow. What a brilliant trick he has performed, convincing her that he is perfect and that she is the one with all the flaws.
We sit for a moment in silence.
“So what happened with your boyfriend?” Ravenna asks. “How did you respond, you know, when he said he didn’t want a fat girlfriend?”
“I said, ‘And I don’t want a misogynist boyfriend.’”
“Really?”
“But I didn’t break up with him. Not straightaway. It took a few more weeks, but I knew in that moment that it was done. Because, as much as he didn’t want a fat girlfriend, I knew I could never be with someone who would say such a thing to someone he supposedly loved.”
“So you don’t think it’s love?” She sounds nervous now.
“It’s not. It’s a whole mess of other things. But it’s definitely not love.”
“What’s going on in here?” Pamela is at the door, eyes all scrunchy as they try to adjust.
“Oh! Just some girls’ talk—we didn’t want to wake you so we sneaked in here.” I get to my feet, blocking Ravenna from her view. “Everything all right with you?”
“Yes, yes, I just need a wee.”
I reach behind me and help Ravenna to her feet. “All yours. See you in the morning.”
“Mmmf,” she mumbles.
As the door closes, I look back at Ravenna.
“To be continued?”
She nods.