Page 60 of On Fire Island

He was painfully uncomfortable. “What size? I don’t know.”

“Do you want to see a chart, or should I eye it for you?”

“No, it’s not for me. Um, I guess, small.”

“OK, small, we have—”

The phone rang, interrupting his explanation. The campy shopkeeper held up a one-sec finger and answered, “Cherry Grove Sundries... Because I told you, I don’t want to invite him.... ’Cause he’s a bitch, and I don’t want to.”

Ben was rocking back and forth—heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe. I couldn’t decide if it was out of impatience or anxiety. Josie entered the shop, and even though she was standing directly under a 24-carat-gold penis-shaped pool float, its head comically pointingat hers, Ben didn’t notice. She grabbed a bottle of Tylenol, approached the counter, and awkwardly greeted him.

“Hi again,” she said.

“Hey,” he responded.

Quite the conversationalist, my husband.

They couldn’t help but listen as the man at the register continued. “Not her, the one that looks like Bianca Del Rio and does that horrible Dolly Parton imitation.”

They shared a smile, and Josie attempted conversation.

“I know that was weird in there for you. I’m so sorry about your wife.”

I felt oddly thankful when Ben answered like a normal person. “Thank you. I probably shouldn’t have come, but I am trying to get back into ordinary life—and what better place to start than the Grove?”

Josie laughed. “Well, I guess maybe it’s better to take baby steps,” she offered.

“Maybe. I did kind of jump right in the deep end.”

“I think it’s brave you even get up in the morning.”

Finally, a person who says the right thing. Hallelujah!

The man at the register hung up the phone and placed two colorful beach pails filled with condoms down on the counter, sizesmallwritten boldly on each.

“Here you go. Hubba bubba or tutti fruity?”

Ben died, right then and there, and Josie’s mouth hung so low I worried a fly would swoop in. He looked from her shocked face to the blaring sizesmallwritten on the buckets and died a second and third death. The man behind the counter seemed clueless.

“Come on, doll, it’s a simple choice. Do you like a hot pink cock or a purple one?”

Fourth death.

Ben turned to explain to Josie, but only caught the back of her flying out the door. He went after her, catching a glimpse of her heading down the windy boardwalk path to the beach. She was fast, and by the time he reached her, he was out of breath.

He yelled out, “Josie, wait, please!”

She kept walking. He kept following.

“Stop. Please let me explain.”

She stopped and trudged back to him, but not for an explanation.

“You have nothing to explain to me, but I think you should inform your friends that they can stop worrying about you!”

“They’re not for me.”

“Whatever.” She turned and raced in the direction she’d been going.

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