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The night before Lola’s departure with Tommy Gasbarro across the wild American countryside, down the Atlantic coast and toward the southern tip of Florida, Monica and Hannah suggested they get together for a few drinks in downtown Oak Bluffs “for old times’ sake.” Lola hadn’t been able to catch up with them in a few weeks, due to family and work obligations, but the story of Jonathan Taylor Thomas and that long-lost raucous party at the mansion outside of Edgartown had put a fire in her belly to hold her two dearest and oldest friends close.
Monica was a beautiful and curvy blonde, with two teenage boys and a burly contractor husband, whom she had met during college at Penn State. Lola pulled up to Monica’s place first and spotted the two teenage boys out back, kicking a soccer ball lazily back and forth while drinking sodas. Their names were Tyler and Kevin, and they were spitting images of their six-foot-four father—the kind of soon to be men who you always asked to help you move.
Monica appeared in the doorway and yelped. “Lola! You’re here!” She ran out of the house in a little leopard print number that surged over her breasts. She wrapped Lola in a big hug. “Oh, honey, how has it been? How is your sister? Can I get you a drink while we wait for Hannah?”
Lola sat with Monica on the front porch and watched the world go by with a first glass of wine. She told Monica that she had informed her family about the Jonathan Taylor Thomas incident, and Monica burst into gut-wrenching laughter and said, “You didn’t! Tell me you didn’t ruin my reputation like that. I can’t have everyone know you stole Jonathan Taylor Thomas away from me.”
“To be honest, I think he’s had a pretty good life without either of us,” Lola said, chuckling.
“His loss,” Monica said.
As Monica explained a little bit more about the frustrations of being a mother to two teenage boys (monstrously messy, it sounded like), Hannah pulled up in her truck and hopped out. She had gone grey a tiny bit early and allowed it to happen, the lighter strands mixing with her darker ones in a way that looked artistic and interesting, rather than “sad” and “old.” Hannah herself worked in jewelry making and owned a little shop in Edgartown. On the side, she read tourists’ tarot cards, which she reported brought in the most money of all.
“People love knowing their future,” she had explained. “We’re all so anxious about it. I like to give them at least a tiny bit of peace of mind.”
Hannah had a younger child, a girl, age eleven. Unlike Lola and Monica, she’d taken her time before she’d had a kid, traveling a bit across both Europe and Asia. She had learned to make jewelry in Thailand and had decided to bring the skill back. Hannah had always been a little out there in a way that made Lola surprised that she remained on the island after so many years. She had always anticipated Hannah living in a hut on the beach of Bali or hiking through the mountains of Poland.
Still, she was grateful to have her there with them.
Hannah, Monica, and Lola walked toward a craft beer place in Oak Bluffs called Offshore Ale Co. Lola ordered an IPA while Hannah grabbed a wheat beer and Monica went for the red ale. Together, they sat at a table overlooking the street.
“I’m heading out tomorrow,” Lola said, scrunching her nose. “I’m a little bit terrified, to be honest.”
“Our Lola? Afraid of something?” Hannah said scoffing. “No way. I don’t believe it.”
“I’m afraid it’s true,” Lola said, heaving a sigh. “This guy— Tommy Gasbarro. He’s different. When we look at each other, it’s like sparks go off between us.”
Hannah and Monica made eye contact. It seemed like they could communicate without words. Lola remembered when she’d had this with them, as well. She had lost it a bit since she had been away the longest.
“What’s up?” Lola demanded.
“Nothing,” Monica said hurriedly.
“Well. It’s just.” Hannah gave a light shrug. “You talk about him so differently than you’ve ever talked about anyone.”
“You hardly even liked that guy you had a baby with,” Monica pointed out, shifting forward a bit so that her breasts bulged out even more from her leopard print. “When you called me about him you were like, Timothy messed up again. Timothy won’t shower. Timothy, Timothy, Timothy...”
“He was really good at that bass, though,” Lola said with a smile.
“Girl! Anyone can play the bass,” Hanna returned. “You know that.”
“I can’t blame Timothy for everything. I wanted to have the baby. He wanted to keep reading Nietzsche and not doing the dishes. I think it all worked out fine,” Lola said.
Their conversation turned to other things. Hannah talked about her daughter’s new interest in making jewelry; Monica talked about Tyler and Kevin’s new interest in eating every single item in the fridge and still being hungry after.
After their first two beers, Monica suggested they head over to Jaws Bridge to watch an August sunset and swim in the Nantucket Sound. Lola, now accustomed again to Vineyard summers, had her swimsuit packed. Spontaneous swims were a part of the game.
They stopped briefly at Monica’s to change into their suits and pick up a bottle of wine and some plastic cups, then walked the thin beachline toward Jaw’s Bridge, where part of the ‘70s horror flick had been filmed. Together, they splashed into the water, crying out at the streaks of orange and pink above the glittering blue. Lola floated for a while as the waves shifted against her, tilting her back toward the shore. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears.
All she could think about was what might happen next.
Surely, she and Tommy would have to stay at a hotel on the way to Florida.
What would happen there?
Would they share a bed?
Would he kiss her?
And what about on the boat, out there on the open water?
There was sexual tension between them. That was clear.
But did she actually want to get involved with him? After all, he was a loner and seemed to want that life and only that life, forevermore.
Back on the sand, Monica popped open the bottle of wine and poured them each stiff glasses.
“I forgot that when Monica’s our bartender, things get sloshy really fast,” Lola said, snickering.
“The pours have gotten a lot bigger since the boys became teenagers. I can assure you of that,” Monica said.
“But are they really as bad as we were?” Hannah asked. “We were always getting into so much trouble. Lola, your dad, didn’t really care what you did, it seemed like, but my mom nearly killed me when she caught us going through her liquor cabinet. Oh, and all those parties. Remember when we saw Ben Affleck and Gwyneth Paltrow together?”
“A very different time,” Lola admitted. “I always remind people they were together and they have to look it up. They don’t believe me.”
“We had a really unique childhood,” Monica said with a sigh. “I guess our children do, too.”
“And Audrey’s getting into that now,” Lola said. “She’s fallen totally in love with the island. And with my family. It’s enough to make me really guilty that I kept it away from her for so long.”
“Does she want you to date again?” Hannah asked. “My daughter is a little apprehensive about it. She’s still young, but her dad only left two years ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes her a little bit longer.”
“That makes sense. I probably would have flipped if Dad was dating when I was a teenager,” Lola replied. “That said, Audrey really wants me to date. She has a hunch that my editor in Boston has a huge crush on me.”
Monica smirked. “Of course he does. You’re Lola Sheridan.”
“Come on. Whatever,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.
“Seriously, though. What does this guy think of you running off with this sailor? I’m assuming he’s the editor working on the story with you?”
“He approved it, yeah,” Lola said. “He basically told me I could write about whatever I want.”
“Wow,” Hannah said. “Have you considered him as an option at all?”
“Audrey suspects that he would move to the island for me if I wanted him to,” Lola said. “I just don’t know if it’s ever been really right between us, you know? We tried about ten years ago, and it just wasn’t a perfect fit. Which makes me think that you’re pickier when you’re twenty-eight than when you’re thirty-eight? Gosh, I mean, I’m almost thirty-nine. Maybe I should just give in already.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Monica asked.
The women returned to the water several more times, watching as the stars twinkled in from beyond and the last wisps of sunset dulled out. When they finished the bottle of wine, they walked back to Monica’s house and sat out on her porch, chatting amicably with Tyler and Kevin about calculus and soccer practice and next year’s prom, waiting for Audrey to come pick Lola up to bring her home. When Audrey arrived, she ambled up to the house and placed her hands on her hips.
“Haven’t the tables turned?” she said, grinning wildly. “Let’s get you home, Lola Sheridan.”
“You’re the spitting image of your old mom,” Hannah said, dotting a kiss on Audrey’s cheek. “Good to see you again, Aud.”
“You too, Hannah. I have to get this lady back home so she can rest up for her big adventure tomorrow. She thinks she can drink all night and drive all the next day? She’s not nineteen anymore,” Audrey said teasingly.
“You’d be surprised what I can do,” Lola said. She tossed her arm over her daughter’s shoulder and waved to her friends with her other. “I’ll see you girls when I get back from the open seas. I’ll be thirty-nine by then, you know. Thirty-nine years old, with my whole life ahead of me. Er—half of it, anyway.”
Back in the car, Audrey rolled her eyes at her mom and said, “I guess my baby will be just as embarrassed by me in nineteen years, huh?”
“It’s a part of the equation,” Lola said, dropping her head on the car seat headrest and gazing at the stars again. “It’s the circle of life.”