Page 83 of The Beachgoers
And finally, “Make yourself comfortable,” said as she follows him into the kitchen.
Every line sounds so God damn formal. Like Maris is nothing more than a visitor here. She must feel it, too, because she says little in response. There’s noWhat a nice place, orHow fortunate Ted offered his cottage to you, orI’m so happy to finally see your renovation. There are only quiet, brief words in return.
Okay, so they’re off to a rocky start.
Once in Ted’s kitchen, Jason drops his keys on the counter first, then takes his cell phone from his jacket pocket. There’s a charger on the counter, too, and he plugs in his phone before turning to Maris.
Maris—who’s holding back. He sees that. Even though the dog grabbed up a shark squeak toy and merrily prances with it clamped in her jaw, Maris stopped at the gray-swirled marble island. Three pendant lights shine above it. Shine right on the burlap-wrapped happiness jar she brought to the crash site last weekend. Sea pebbles, driftwood sticks and shells are nestled in the sand. Her jotted note is folded in there, too.
“I read the message you wrote for Neil,” Jason tells her. When she only looks at him, he goes on. “I felt the same way you did, that day. What I wouldn’t give to have my brother back, to walk the beach with him.”
Maris nods with a small smile, then turns the jar on the island before looking around. She’s noticing the cream-colored cabinets, some with glass-paned fronts; the stainless-steel farm sink; the planked, hardwood ceiling.
“You’ve never seen Ted’s place before.” Jason bends to throw the squeak toy when Maddy drops it at his feet. “I can give you a tour,” he says as the dog scrambles across the floor.
“No, I’m good.” Maris walks around the kitchen. She glances into the living room, where the dog’s new bed is set up. Where a sweatshirt is tossed on the gray sofa.
When she turns to the kitchen again, Jason sees what she’s seeing. Blueprint tubes leaning near the round table in the nook. His work tablet, sketches and markers beside an unfinished cup of cold coffee on that table. His phone charging station alongside his checkbook and some envelopes on the counter. A denim shirt slung over the back of a barstool at the island. A few dirty dishes in the sink. A half-filled box of powdered doughnuts on the counter.
“Can I get you something?” Jason asks. “A drink, maybe? Wine, or ice water?”
Maris crosses her arms in front of her. She fidgets with the big turquoise stones of her necklace. “Actually, I’m wondering if maybe my coming here was a mistake.”
“What? A mistake?”
She nods. And looks at only him—as if she doesn’t want to see anything else. Like she’s afraid to, maybe. Or has seen enough. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this,” she says.
“This?”
“I thought you’d have a little corner set up with a few things. Easy in, easy to come back home. I was wrong, though. It’s obvious you’ve nicely moved your whole life somewhere else now.”
“It’s not like that.” Quickly, he’s not even sure why, Jason straightens the envelopes on the counter. “I don’t know. These are just the bills you gave me. And some stuff I need here. Anyway, isn’t this why we’re dating? To talk, and… work things out?” he asks. And checks his watch. All as the dog starts pacing. “We were makingtonighta date, too. Remember?”
“I do.” Maris slowly walks to the island and sits on the stool with his shirt hanging on it. When she does, Maddy, chew toy in mouth, squeezes in near her feet.
Damn it, damn it, damn it. Jason feels a mild panic now. They’reoff. They’re not gelling like they did earlier at the bakery. And later at Elsa’s. Dancing. Leaning into each other. Touching. He opens some windows in the kitchen nook. The sound of waves breaking across the street comes in. So does the slow chirp of late-summer crickets.
“The thing is,” Jason says, turning to Maris then, “maybe you’d feel better going out, getting some air. But it’s late, and everything’s closed now. So… how about a walk on the night beach? I hear that’s a popular date.” He ventures closer to the kitchen island and holds out his hand. “What do you say, Maris?”
* * *
At the very least, this is what the dog needs. Maddy runs ahead of them at the water’s edge. She works off her excited energy by barking into the wind, and sloshing in the shallows while snapping at the water.
Okay, maybe Maris needs this walk, too. Maybe she needs to process whatever she saw of his life in Ted’s kitchen. It’s not much, but apparently was enough to get under her skin.
Jason loops his hand in hers as they walk the straightaway of Sea Spray Beach. The landscape here is craggy, the sand gritty. At the far end, a rickety storm fence holds back dune grass. And the whole time, a stiff salty breeze lifts off the water. He’s glad he brought his sweatshirt and drapes it on Maris’ shoulders now as they turn back. “Thanks for doing all this tonight,” he says.
“Doing this?”
“For being my date. Having cookies with me at the bakery. Dancing at the vow renewal. And now, this.”
“Jason,” she whispers as he settles the sweatshirt around her neck. “What are we going to do?”
“Well,” he answers. “I know whatI’mgoing to do.” He steps closer in the darkness, raises his hands and cradles her face. They stand there like that, so close at the edge of the sea. The wind kicks up more; the waves splash onto the sand. That crescent moon is high in the dark sky above. And something about the moment overcomes him so that he closes his eyes for a long second before leaning in and kissing her. As he does, he feels her hands reach around his waist. She kisses him back, too—there’s no mistaking that. But there’s a catch in her breath. So he deepens his kiss, hears her whisper his name, then kisses her once more lightly. “God, I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”
“Me, too,” she tells him while stroking his whiskered face.
Is there a sadness there, when she does? He’s not sure he really wants to know, so instead he takes her hand in his, kisses the back of it and whispers, “Let’s go inside now.”
