Emily gasps, waking up to near-perfect darkness. She pulls in a deep breath. Vague images break apart and recede, slinking back down into the depths of her mind. She’s sweating. Her pocket buzzes. She wrestles off the blankets and reaches into her pocket. She squints at the display.
She mumbles: “Hello?”
“I’m at the door. Are you going to let me in?”
“Sorry.” She looks around. Her bearings come back to her but they take their time. She sits up. “I was sleeping.” Hotel room, bearing the same white walls as a hundred hotel rooms before it. Like it’s a dominant gene passed down through the years. She rubs her eyes with one hand and walks to the door.
“I’ve got food,” says Aaron.
“I know.” Emily smiles, disengaging the safety chain. “I smell it.” She hangs up, tucks the phone back into her pocket. “Come on in.” She pulls the door open. “Turn on some lights.” She sweeps her arms. “Make yourself at home!”
“I got veggie supreme,” he says. “I trust that’s all right?”
“It’s more than all right.” Emily walks to the big window and draws back the curtain, letting smoky light fall into the room. “It’s perfect.”
“Perfect.” He slides the pizza box onto a small table. “That’s a first. How about a bottle of Coke? Is that perfect too?”
“Tonight? Yes.” Emily straightens out the blankets and sits on top of them. “How was your flight?”
“Not bad.” Aaron sets up two plastic cups and fills them with Coke. “It’s a nice enough day for it. Here.” He hands her a cup and some napkins. “Do you want a plate?”
“Mmm…sure.”
He pulls a couple of slices out of the box and puts them on her plate, loosening up the long strings of cheese, looping them over the slices with his fingers. He hands over the plate and takes a seat at the table. He picks up a piece of pizza. He puts his elbows on the table and readies to take a bite. He looks at her. “So how are you?”
“Less tired,” says Emily, between chews. “I got caught up enough.” She swallows. “I had a good nap. I was thinking, actually, that we could go ahead and leave tonight, if you wanted to.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “There’s still time to at least get off the Cape.”
Aaron swallows. “Are you in that much of a hurry?”
Emily pauses. She blushes a little and shakes her head. “No. No, I suppose not.” She pulls a caramelized bit of onion out of its bed of cheese. “I just thought…oh, I don’t know. Saving time? But I guess I don’t need to save time on a vacation.”
“How was your vacation, by the way?” He puts down the slice, wipes grease off his fingers. “Your time on Nantucket?”
“It was nice.”
“I’ve never been,” he says. “What is it like?”
“Well,” she says, smiling and taking a sip of Coke. “It’s like the rest of New England, only more expensive.”
“What did you do?”
“I ate seafood, enjoyed the view from my room, took walks on the beach…you know. The stuff you do at the coast.”
“No swimming?” He breaks off a piece of crust and eats it. “No getting a suntan?”
She shakes her head. “Too cold for that.”
“Time to yourself, then.” He smiles. “It sounds nice.”
“Yeah, it’s nice when you really need it.” She chuckles. “Otherwise it doesn’t take long to get overrated. How are things back at the homestead?”
He swallows a mouthful of pizza. “Steady on.”
She laughs.
“It’s been slow.” He wipes his mouth. “You aren’t missing much.”
“That’s good to know.”
Emily looks at him: plain gray t-shirt, jeans, strong jaw and the kind of eyes that offer shelter from the weather of the world. She watches him eat and waits for his presence to leak out of his skin, slow soak filling up the room and pressing against the waiting dusk”she waits for the space he is occupying to alight on her bones and warm her from the inside. It’s the small things: a glint of light on his watch, his habit of cleaning his chin with every third bite, the slow measured sips of Coke, how the fizzing brown liquid alights on his mouth; all of them move in concert, sneaking up on her, pulling her down into the moment.
“Do you like it?”
“Like what?”
He grins. “The pizza. I picked it up at that place around the corner.” He gestures over his shoulder. “Scottie’s Famous Pizza.”
Emily pulls a mushroom off the crust. “It’s good.”
“Yeah, but is it famous?”
She giggles. “I don’t know about that, but it’s better than…I don’t know, deep fried crap.” She pops the mushroom into her mouth. “I think these are fresh. They don’t taste canned.”
“It’s quite a step-down from lobster.”
“It’s a welcome step-down, believe me.” She pauses. “If I don’t talk much about my vacations, it’s because there’s some part of me that feels bad. I know you guys can’t afford trips to Nantucket. Well, except for Dave.”
He looks at her. “I’m sorry, Emily.”
She wipes her fingers with a napkin. “Why?”
“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to draw attention…never mind.” He wipes his mouth, balls up the napkin, and tosses it into the pizza box. He sighs. “I’m just sorry. Leave it at that.”
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I know it has to be annoying sometimes to hear all about Dave’s weekend jaunts to Las Vegas or my week spent in Nantucket,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “which is the kind of vacation spot only old money can really love.”
Aaron smiles a little. “Really.”
“Yeah.” She carries her plate and wadded-up napkins to the trash. “It’s like…bad pop music, or weird local food. You have to grow up with it.”
“I see.”
Emily chuckles. “Let’s just say that when mom wanted downtime, she was ‘worth it.’ That means places like the Riviera, Aspen, the Hamptons…and Nantucket.” She pours herself some more Coke. “Do you want any more?”
“No, thanks.”
Emily closes the bottle and takes a drink. She sits down on the foot of the bed. “Thanks for the food.”
“No problem. I have to eat, too, you know. So it wasn’t much of a hardship.”
“Oh, so it’s all about convenience.” She grins.
“No.” He chuckles. “Of course not.”
“So what do you feel like doing? I suppose we could hang out here and watch a movie, or we could go out and look for something to do.” She carries his plate to the trash. “We have hours to go before we sleep.”
“We could find a beach and stick our feet in the water,” he says. “So is wading a big thing in the old money set?” His mouth quivers into a grin. “You all sit around your multi-piece place settings and swap stories about all the million dollar beaches you’ve dipped your feet into?”
Emily makes a face at him. She starts to laugh. “No.”
“No?”
“That’s some cold water,” she teases. “I don’t know if those Southern-bred feet of yours can handle the truth.”
“My feet are tougher than they look.”
“Well then. If you want to stick your feet in some Atlantic Ocean, I think we can arrange that.” She glances at the window. “We should go soon, before the sun is all the way down. It’s not far. We can walk, if you want. It’s that close.”
“I’ve been sitting all day and a walk sounds like heaven right about now.”
“Let me put some shoes on.”
They step out together into the cooling light of a lavender sky. Moist air blows in off the water, smelling of pine bark, hot pavement, and French fries.
“I know you’re tired of hearing me say it.” He looks at her. “But I have to ask. Is there something going on? Are you all right? You didn’t sound like you were doing so hot this morning.”
“I appreciate your concern. I really do, even though I keep brushing it off.” A seagull takes wing overhead, filling the sky with its rusted cries. “I’m okay. Yeah, so there’s been stuff going on behind the scenes. I haven’t been talking about it.” She touches his arm. “I know you all know, and I’m sure there are lots of wild theories bouncing around. But…it doesn’t matter.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out through pursed lips. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. I took care of it. So don’t worry about me anymore.”
“When something doesn’t matter, it doesn’t do this to you. It doesn’t leave this kind of a mark. If you want to tell me that it doesn’t matter, then…well, there isn’t much I can do about it, is there? I don’t have to believe you.” He glances at her. “And I don’t.”
Emily watches the storefronts crawl by. “That’s fair.”
“I’ll renew my offer to listen. I mean it. If you want to talk about it, I’m here. It doesn’t expire when we get back home. I’ll renew it…well, pretty much forever.”
“Okay.”
“So. Do Nantucket summer people ever buy each other snow cones?”
Emily laughs. “When they do, they put it in a crystal bowl with a candied flower on top and call it granita.”
Aaron walks up to a blue kiosk that has been painted to look like an igloo. Plastic icicles hang from its awning.
“Do you want one?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“What kind?”
“Piña colada?”
“Okay.”
Emily watches the young guy behind the counter pack shaved ice into paper cones with a spatula. He drizzles one with blue syrup, the other with yellow and clear. Aaron reaches for his wallet, pulls it out of his back pocket, and flips it open. He pays and takes hold of the snow cones. They look absurd in his hands.
“Here,” he says.
She takes it, keeping the napkin wrapped around its base pressed tight. She takes a bite. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Is it good?”
“Yeah. You want a lick?”
They trade.
“Yummy.” His is raspberry-flavored, tart and sweet. “I should’ve gone with the blue.”
He sniffs hers. “It smells like suntan lotion.”
“But it tastes delicious.”
He takes a small bite. “Yes. It does.”
“Hey, we’re almost there. That’s the thing about the Cape. You’re never too far from a beach.”
Cottages run up to the dune grass, many of them with private boardwalks down to the sand. The beach is empty. Emily takes off her sandals and carries them looped over one finger as she licks the dripping remains of her snow cone off the inside of her wrist. Aaron toes off his sneakers, carrying them by the laces. He follows her down to the high tide line. She drops her sandals. She tips the last of the slush into her mouth and crumples up the empty paper cone, stuffing it into her jeans pocket. She bends over and rolls up the legs of her jeans.
“Hey.” She turns her head sideways, looking up at him. “Are you gonna roll em? Cause they’ll get wet if you don’t.”
“Look, Emily,” he says. “I’m bad at this.”
She straightens up. “Bad at what?” She grins. “I mean, this is wading. It’s not exactly rocket science.”
“No, I mean…” He gestures at the beach. “This. This thing. With you.”
Emily goes still. The wind blows her hair against the side of her face. She looks at him, noticing the tension in his body. “I don’t understand. Is there something wrong?”
“I want to be…I’m trying to be…more than just your…your boss. God this is such a bad idea.” He rubs his face. “I’m trying to be more to you and you just keep closing the door on me and that’s okay, you know, I’ll stop trying if that’s what you want.”
“Aren’t we friends? Isn’t this…you coming up here, driving back with me, isn’t that what friends do?” She stands, walks around until she’s in front of him. “I’ve always thought of you that way. Was I wrong to?”
“No, no, of course not.”
“Then what are we talking about?”
He drops onto one knee, folding the denim up past his ankle. “Forget it.”
She folds her arms. “I am not going to forget it.”
He sighs. “You agree that we’re friends. Right?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how we couldn’t be after all we’ve been through together.”
He shifts onto the other knee and gets to work. “I want more.”
The sound of waves fills the silence. She can’t speak.
“It’s not appropriate. It’s not a good idea. I know all that.” He stands and looks at her. “I can’t help it.”
Her voice drops. “Is this what you’re doing here? Is that the whole point? Am I…am I really dumb, or something, for not catching on sooner? Have you been trying all this time? I…I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say to this, Aaron.”
“Look, we can forget about this conversation. It’ll be like it never happened.” He looks into her eyes. “If that’s what you want.”
“How am I supposed to forget something like this?”
“Do you want me to go?” He lowers his voice. “Do you want to be alone for a little while?”
“No!” She starts for the ocean. “Come on. You wanted your feet in the water, now come down here and stuck your feet in this fucking goddamned water.”
“Emily…”
“No. No!” She punctuates the words with sharp hand movements. “You will not ‘Emily’ me. You do not get to ‘Emily’ me.” She stands in the rushing foam. “Now come down here. Come on.”
He looks at her with an expression that is both hesitant and raw. “This is not necessary.”
“It is.” She wipes her eyes. “It is necessary.” She waves her hand, reaching out. “Come here.”
He does, stepping with exaggerated care over the seaweed and down into the water-soft sand, wincing at the cold. He takes her hand. Water rushes up around his ankles. Emily puts her arms around him.
“Don’t.” His voice is almost lost inside the waves. “Not unless you mean it.”
“Shut up, Aaron.” She puts her cheek on his chest and closes her eyes, his warmth and the cold water pulling at her ankles. “Just…shut up.”