Page 32 of Stony Point Summer
“Feeding Maris?”
“Cooked her up a meal at the diner earlier.”
“You did?” Jason asks. Maris made no mention of that on the beach.
“She had the pork-chop special. And shit, between the two of you—”
“What do you mean,between the two of you?”
“I mean, she’s telling me one thing about your marriage. You tell me another,” Kyle says as he walks to the slider and opens it onto the night. “And I’m tellingyou, bro, I’m being pulled in two different directions. So all this isn’t just tough on you, you know.”
Jason swigs his beer and squints over at Kyle in the low light. The distant sound of waves breaking on the beach comes through the slider now. “You’re saying my problems are hard onyou, too?”
“Hell, yeah.” Kyle sits again and holds his cold beer can to the side of his perspiring face. “When’re you going to quit this back-and-forth dicking around and figure things out? Get back to the beach, for Christ’s sake.”
“I was just at the beach.”
“What? At Stony Point?”
“For a little bit. Talked to Maris, too.”
“Jesus, why didn’t you say that before?”
“I’m saying it now.”
“All right. Wellnowyou can talk to your God damn marriage counselor.” Kyle sits back and crosses his arms across his chest. “Me.”
“It’s okay, Kyle,” Jason tells him. “I got this. I’ll figure things out with my wife.”
“You better. But let me set the record straight, Barlow. It’sMariswho’ll figure things out withyou.” Kyle reaches for his beer and takes a long swallow. “She’s already one step ahead of you, man.”
“You’re the second person to tell me that today. First Trent, now you. What the heck is my wife up to?”
Kyle just shrugs. “You keep fighting for that woman, my friend.” He’s quiet for a second then, when he clasps his hands behind his head and stretches. Breathes that nighttime salt air drifting in through the open windows. “Listen,” he finally says, sitting straight again and leaning across the table with some strange new urgency. “You’ll be at Elsa’s ribbon-cutting tomorrow, right? Grand opening and all.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Kyle lifts his beer can for another sip. “You’re not bullshitting me?”
“Why would I bullshit you?” Just then, Maddy walks past and knocks down one of the crutches leaning on a chair. Picking up the crutch, Jason tells Kyle, “If I’msayingI’ll be there—I’llbethere.”
“All right, all right. Relax, man.” Suddenly, that same crutch slips to the floor again. This time, Kyle reaches for it and props it solid against the chair. “And how’s the leg, anyway?” he asks. “Giving you any grief?”
“Leg’s fine, Doc. This humidity’s a bitch, though, making the stump sweat. But it’s okay. Just finished cleaning off the prosthesis. Upstairs in the tub,” Jason says, hitching his head toward the ceiling. “Got some sand on it at the beach. Some salt water.”
“On the beach? How come? You’ve got to be careful with that equipment of yours. It’s expensive merchandise, no?”
“It is. But I took a walk with Maris. And, you know, things happened. A little talking. A little horsing around. In the water, out of the water.”
“That sounds promising. Because I was really worried about you, Barlow.”
“Worried? Why?”
“Listen, man. News flash. Statistics show that the end of summer isdivorceseason.”
Jason sits back in his chair and throws a skeptical glance at Kyle. “Get outta here.”
“Seriously. It is. And I was afraid you were headed there, too.”
