Page 63 of Seven Summer Weekends

The Ice Palace, named after an F. Scott Fitzgerald story by the same name, was Fire Island’s first disco. It could easily fit a thousand people—a thousand sweaty people, and as Ben and Addison entered, it felt like a thousand and two.

Aside from a recent rebuild following a fire, the club had been the center of nightlife at the gay enclaves of Cherry Grove and the Pines, on the east end of the island, for decades. There was no better place to dance on the island, if not arguably the world. They entered to the tune of Chic’s “Good Times” and immediately hit the dance floor. It was crowded and steamy and, thanks to her mother, Addison knew every word to the seventies classic. As she crooned, “Clams on the half shell and roller skates, roller skates,” moving her hips from side to side to the beat, Ben couldn’t help but laugh. She was like a different person.

They stayed on the dance floor straight through “He’s the Greatest Dancer,” during which Addison continued dancing and singing along like she was the fifth member of Sister Sledge.

She spun around Ben, taunting him with, “Halston, Gucci,Fiorucci” and teasing with, “Do you wanna funk with me?” They joined forces with Barbra Streisand and Donna Summer for the duet “No More Tears (Enough Is Enough),” dancing in slow motion to the ballad-like beginning before pounding it out when the disco beat kicked in. By the time the eight-minute extended version was over, they were both dripping with sweat.

“Air!” Addison shouted over the intro to the next song. They had been dancing for at least an hour.

Ben followed her out to the back deck of the hotel that housed the club, to a double-decker horseshoe of rooms with a pool in the middle. There they cooled off, sipping frozen Rocket Fuels and dipping their feet in the water until the notes of another Donna Summer hit, “I Feel Love,” beckoned them back inside.

They danced and sang the title lyric over and over again until the intensity and absurdity of it all became too real. Ben took Addison’s hand and led her outside, stopping to get their hands stamped on the way out.

The ridiculously spot-on soundtrack of their night continued with the disco classic “Babe, We’re Gonna Love Tonite.” The fading chorus could still be heard in the distance when they reached the beach, where they took the stairs, two at a time, eager to feel the August breeze coming off the ocean.

The beat still resonating in her eardrums, Addison yelled, a little too loudly, “Thank you for taking me here! I love it.”

Beyond the fun factor, the night had cut into the anger she was feeling at her parents. The memories of her mother dancing around the house to those same disco songs diluted her animosity toward her with every note. She wondered for a second if Ben had done that on purpose. She doubted it. She was probably giving him too much credit.

Either way, she felt so appreciative that she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. And though they had been dancing together for over an hour, they had not really touched since briefly holding hands on the water taxi. Her hug seemed to break the seal.

“Come on,” he said, leading her to a shadowed spot on the beach, out of sight from the lit-up houses above.

She was nervous at first, but Ben promised her that no one would know or care.

They made love in the sand, with Addison feeling thankful that she had worn a dress and that the ocean was as loud as it was.

Afterward, she asked, “Should we walk home?”

“We can,” he replied.

“How long is the walk?”

“Around an hour twenty, or a water taxi leaves in…” He wrestled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. “In six minutes!”

“Let’s go!” they said in unison, quickly putting themselves back together and racing to the dock.

They sat on the small open bench at the back of the boat, staring straight ahead at the other passengers, who were packed onto the three small, covered benches inside. The wind blew Addison’s hair all over the place. Her thoughts were following the same trajectory. This was all happening so quickly. They held hands on the way home from the dock to their street and shared a kiss between the two houses.

“I have to go walk Sally,” Ben said.

Still thinking about how quickly things were moving,Addison made the choice to close out the night. She yawned, a big exaggerated yawn.

“I’m so tired. Can I see you in the morning?” she asked tentatively.

“OK. See you in the morning,” he responded, with a quick, sweet peck on herlips.

WeekSeven

Chapter Thirty-one

To say that Addison was feeling things she had never felt before was an understatement. She opened her eyes on Monday morning with what could be best described as a giddy sensation. She couldn’t remember her body ever seeming this light, and her mind this hopeful. She began to question herself—to analyze whether this mood was due to the man or the zen or maybe the clay. She was loving the clay, the feel of it in her hands, the freedom to create and destroy and then start again with no repercussions. But the man—he confused her and challenged her and excited her. Still, she refused to believe this feeling was just about a guy. She vowed to spend the day alone, sculpting and baking and finishing up sorting out the piles she had created of Gicky’s things. Gicky’s gallerist was set to arrive that Saturday, and the white elephant sale was on Sunday.

Yes, she would spend the day alone evaluating the source of her happiness. She heard the rumble of the garbage truck and ran to take her cans to the curb. And there was Ben, doing the same. One look at him destroyed her resolve.

“Want to come over?” she called out to him. Her cheeks flushed. She covered up her excitement by adding, “To taste my scones?”

Sally chose that moment to roll over and play dead, and Addison couldn’t help but take it personally.

---