That Old Cape Magic

lesbians, and shortly after that he was asleep.

PART TWO
Coastal Maine

(Second Wedding)

8
Bliss
    H ow quickly it had all fallen apart. Even a year later, most of it spent in L.A., the speed of what happened after Kelsey’s wedding took Griffin’s breath away.
    For the first time in what seemed like forever he’d slept through the night and awakened to a sense of profound well-being, his funk, or whatever the hell it was, having finally fled. The morning breeze billowing the chintz curtains smelled of the sea, reminding Griffin of their honeymoon in Truro. Later in the morning they’d drive there, and this, too, made him happy. Joy was usually an early riser, but last night’s sex, together with too much to drink, had made her lazy and content as well. When he touched her bare shoulder she purred like a cat, which might mean she was amenable to a reprise of last night’s intimacy, though it was also possible she was just enjoying the special indulgence of sleeping in after the long, grueling semester. Or remembering that Laura was now engaged. Before Griffin could make up his mind which it was he’d drifted off again.
    It was almost ten-thirty when he felt Joy get out of bed and heard the shower thunk on in the bathroom. The long, languid summer, two and a half glorious months without classroom responsibilities, stretched out before him, all the more real, he supposed,for beginning here on the Cape. Two days ago he’d been hoping he might spend them writing whatever Sid—the poor bastard—had to offer, but that wasn’t going to happen. So be it. After last night’s conversation with his mother, he was thinking again about taking another run at “The Summer of the Brownings.” The little girl’s death, whether or not she was right about that, would give the story some added weight. He’d cut back big-time on the characters based on his parents, unwelcome intruders that they were. Asserting his authorial prerogative, he’d reduce the story to its essence: an innocent summer friendship set against the backdrop of a terrible reality both boys are aware of but can’t quite acknowledge directly. This new strategy would force Peter into the narrative foreground, not a bad idea, either. He might even weave in some harbingers of Vietnam.
    He was busy revising the story in his head when his cell phone commenced buzzing on the nightstand like a fly on its back. He usually turned the damn thing off before going to bed, but last night he’d apparently forgotten.
    “Griff,” said Tommy. “What’s happening today, locusts?”
    “No clue,” Griffin said, though sun was leaking through the chintz curtains. “What’re you doing up so early?”
    “I’ve
been
up,” he said. “Anymore, I pee three times a night, at least. Don’t tell me you’re spared this, because I hate you already.”
    “Why?”
    “Same old reason. The woman you’re married to. All my life I’ve been a good woman shy of true happiness. It’s tragic, really.”
    Neither man said anything for an awkward beat. In the next room the shower thunked off.
    “Anyway, Sid gets planted later this morning.”
    “That’s not wasting any time.”
    “As per Jewish custom. We have Jews out here, remember? Also Negroes and Hispanics. You forget, living there in pale New England.”
    The bathroom door opened, and Joy came out, toweling her hair dry.
Who?
she mouthed. Griffin could tell from her smile that she expected it to be Laura.
    Tommy
, he mouthed back, and she quickly covered up, as if his cell were equipped with a streaming-video camera.
    “There’s going to be a big memorial do in a couple of weeks, though,” Tommy was saying, and he rattled off the names of half a dozen stars and directors, all former Sid clients, who’d already committed to attend. “You think you’ll come?”
    “I don’t see why not. Once I get my grades turned in, I’m a free man.”
    “Why don’t you and Joy come out for a week. Hell, two weeks. We’ll have some laughs.”
    Joy was now bent over the small pad of B and B stationery, scribbling something.
    “I’m working on this thing right now that’s going nowhere,” Tommy continued. “You can read it and tell me what’s wrong. If you’re nice I might even let you fix it. And Joy will hit it off with this woman I’m seeing. It’ll be like old times.”
    Joy tore the page off the tablet and showed it to him:
Don’t commit me
.
    “Sounds like fun,” he said. “Joy’s shaking her head no,