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The next morning, after a healthy scrubbing of the kitchen and a nice clean-up of the porch, Lola sat at the picnic table with all her notes from the sailing adventure piled out in front of her. Although her memories had colored the experience a bit, she still felt a pang of excitement as she read over them. On one, she had actually forced Tommy to pose so that she could sketch him. He had thrust out one of his arms, bent it, and then bulged out his bicep muscles to make her laugh. Her sketch didn’t do his handsomeness justice.
Throughout the journey, she’d also had time to conduct several interviews with him—about his sailing trips all over the world, about what he loved most about sailing from the Keys to Martha’s Vineyard, about the quality of waves in the Atlantic versus the Pacific. Slowly, as she read through her pages of notes, Lola began to cultivate the story of this mystery man. Her fingers found the keyboard of her computer and began to type.
Thomas Gasbarro comes from a long line of explorers. His father, he says, was so invested in the idea of world-domination, that he almost immediately abandoned his mother, moved on to the next woman, and then the next, in the style of a Roman emperor. This is the sort of humor that Tommy Gasbarro brings. Seated with him on his gorgeous vessel as the waves lap up against the sides, I’m mesmerized with him, with his bravery, with his decision to live outside the bounds of a “normal life.”
Lola studied the words that had just poured from her fingers. Did she actually feel this way about Tommy? Her heart seemed to glow as she wrote of him.
There’s a certain artistry of a sailor in his main environment. It’s a fluidity that one hardly gets to see. There’s a sense of casual urgency, just as, if it had any thought processes, the heart might illustrate, given that it must pump blood to all areas of our body. In this manner, Tommy Gasbarro is the essential heartbeat of the sailboat. He’s able to both tilt the sails and sing an old sea chanty, one he says an old pirate from Cambodia told him. “That pirate had a fascinating story, but so does everyone else in Cambodia. Everyone seems as though they’re running from something. I met several people who were running from the American law. Nobody can really track people down in Cambodia. It’s not clear why.”
As a Martha’s Vineyard girl and Boston College grad, I’ve hardly left New England in my thirty-nine years. His stories sound like reflections of another reality I might have had if I had shifted my course. Still, there’s a sense that, with Tommy Gasbarro by your side, your course has a chance of taking you wherever it wants to go. Tommy lets the wind guide him. It’s something we all should do more often. It’s certainly the most freeing feeling in the world.
Lola grew lost in the writing, so lost that she didn’t hear Christine as she crept in from her shift at the bistro and dropped herself onto the picnic table beside Lola. She poured herself a glass of wine and then tried her best to peek over Lola’s shoulder to read.
“Not yet! It isn’t ready,” Lola cried.
“Ugh. Whatever. I can’t focus on it, anyway,” Christine said. “I’m exhausted from your birthday and waking up so early this morning. Long gone are the days when I could party all night and be a pastry chef in the morning. Hair of the dog it is.” She lifted her glass to salute the apparent thud of her head.
“Ha. I’ll join you,” Lola said. It was just after noon, but it was getting close to the end of summer, and she felt called to drift into another mindset for a moment.
Besides, she needed to hash out everything that had happened between her and Tommy. And she had a hunch that Christine was the one to speak to.
Before she could get started, however, Susan appeared in the screen door. “What are you two doing out here?” she said, creaking it open.
“I didn’t know you were home!” Lola said.
“Sure. I just helped Dad set up his puzzle,” Susan said. “Another one thousand pieces to put together. He also has the pre-game on for baseball. I would say he’s all set up for the day.”
Lola rushed up to fetch another two glasses for herself and Susan.
“Where are Audrey and Amanda?” Christine asked.
“I think they went swimming somewhere with a few locals they met,” Susan offered. “Probably kids of people we went to school with.”
“Did you ask who they were?” Lola asked.
“Sure, but they didn’t know last names,” Susan added.
“I wonder if Audrey will find a local to fall in love with,” Christine said, her voice hushed.
“Don’t get my hopes up,” Lola said. “Oh! I forgot. I haven’t shown you who her baby-daddy is. Here.” She grabbed her phone and flashed up that now-familiar photo of Max Gray.
“Wow. He is super handsome,” Susan breathed.
“He looks like a grade-A asshole,” Christine said. “And I should know. I’ve dated enough of them.”
“Tommy doesn’t seem like a grade-A asshole,” Susan said, arching her brow.
“There it is. You’re sneaking right into the topic you want to know all about,” Lola said. “It’s always been one of your talents, Susan Sheridan. Admit it.”
“I’m a lawyer. Of course, I know that,” Susan said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Come on! Tell us at least one thing about the trip,” Christine pleaded. “He stayed at our place for ages last night. It’s clear that he likes you.”
“I don’t know if that’s true. Or, if it was true, I don’t think it is anymore,” Lola said contemplatively. She then continued to explain what had happened on her birthday, how he’d told that story about the SAT test, how she had freaked out.
“You almost died in a storm on your birthday. I think you acted exactly how you should have,” Susan said, her eyes as big as saucers.
“I mean, that’s the thing. We probably didn’t almost die,” Lola said. “It was just too eerily similar to the thing with Stan. But Tommy took offense to it. And he accused me of only hanging out with him because he’s a part of the past I’m trying to piece together. So, yeah. You could say it was all a disaster. We’re not even speaking right now.”
The sisters all sipped their wine slowly, unsure of what to say next.
“I hate it when I get my hopes up about someone and they let me down,” Christine stated.
“I kind of thought there was something special about him. That’s for sure,” Lola said. “And there is. Really, there is. But I think he’s too much of a loner to ever be with me or with anyone. Even though he’s still on the island, it’s not like he’ll stick around for long. He told me all these stories of sailing the open seas all over the world. He’s a mystery man. He’s like Ernest Hemingway mixed with Captain Balboa. He probably wouldn’t be into, like, sleeping with one woman in the same bed every single night.”
Susan and Christine struggled to give her any advice. Christine mentioned that she seemed to understand the situation much better than they ever could, and also that she was just so sorry about it all. Susan said she had only ever been with two men, basically, and couldn’t fully imagine waging the war of “dating” into her thirties and forties. “Both of you are much braver than me,” she said. “Thank God, Scott wanted me back. What would I do? Join Tinder?”
This brightened Lola’s mood, albeit only slightly. “Tinder is actually fantastic,” she said. “I had a lot of fun in my early thirties with that. Especially once Audrey had sleepovers and friends and even boyfriends, things that kept her busy and out of the house. I met some wild guys. Always fun. Nobody I ever wanted Audrey to meet.”
“I did OKCupid for a while,” Christine admitted, her cheeks reddening.
“And now you’re with your high school enemy,” Susan said, brimming with joy. “Weird how life goes, isn’t it?”
“The weirdest,” Christine said.
Lola’s phone buzzed on the table. She blinked down from her wine haze to see that Colin had sent her an email.
“Ah! I saw the slightest smile out of you,” Susan said, pointing.
“It’s not a big deal,” Lola said. “Just my editor. Colin.”
“The guy who’s in love with you,” Christine said.
“Audrey really can’t shut up about that, can she?” Lola said.
She scanned the email. Colin reported that he was excited to read her newest article about Tommy Gasbarro; that he was glad she’d arrived back to Martha’s Vineyard safely. He also said that he planned to come to Martha’s Vineyard soon for a visit.
“Would you mind showing me around?” he wrote.
“He’s coming to the Vineyard,” Lola said, unsure of how she felt about it.
“Wow. That’s incredible!” Christine said.
“I guess.” Lola’s heart felt heavy from the Tommy experience. Still, she knew that it was better to press forward to try out people the way you might try out sweaters at a retail store. Some of them were scratchy, irritating, or hung wrong; others fit just right.