The Whore's Child

bodies with moist clay from the cliffs—“it’s primo skin conditioner”—and then let it dry in the sun. “And don’t worry about the name. Some people think it’s a gay beach, but it’s not,” she concluded, as if she felt it her duty to allay their fears on this score at least. “They probably ought to call it something else.”
    â€œPerhaps they could call it Primo Beach,” June said wryly when the girl stepped away.
    While she was in the bathroom changing into the new bathing suit she’d bought on impulse the day before while they were waiting for the ferry, Snow called his old colleague, David Loudener, whom they’d planned to visit in Manhattan on their way back to Ithaca. David was one of very few people who knew the details of what had happened when June suffered her breakdown. In fact, he’d been with Snow when the police had called to say she’d been found at a nearby shopping mall, staring into the empty display window of a vacant store, and together they’d gathered her up and taken her home. Apparently, the only consequence of her brief disappearance was that she’d given her wedding ring to a stranger.
    This was years ago, but “How’s June doing?” was David’s first question, and Snow imagined he heard concern, perhaps even fear, in his old friend’s voice. Snow again was reminded of his suspicion at the time that David blamed him, at least in part, for what had befallen his wife. “You’re going to have to be careful of her,” he’d told Snow after she was released from the hospital, and something in his friend’s voice suggested that he doubted that caring for June was a task he was suited for.
    â€œWe’re both fine,” Snow now said, aware that June was probably able to hear the conversation through the bathroom door. “Anxious to see you and Elaine.” And once again he took down the complicated directions he’d need to follow into Manhattan.
    â€œThis is way too young, isn’t it,” June said when she emerged from the bathroom, modeling the new white swimsuit.
    Snow couldn’t tell whether this was true or if it was his wife’s posture that proclaimed, almost defiantly, her determination to act her age. June was still trim— athletic-looking, in fact—but clearly she was not about to cut herself any slack. In a sunny mood when she’d gone into the bathroom, she now appeared discouraged and uncertain. “You look wonderful,” he assured her. “Come here.”
    She ignored this invitation. “It’s cut too high in the leg,” she said, tracing the line of the suit with her index fingers.
    â€œIt’s the way they’re wearing them,” Snow said, though now that she’d drawn his attention to it, he saw what she meant.
    â€œIt’s the way twenty-year-olds are wearing them,” she said. “Twenty-year-olds with primo bodies.”
    â€œYou look lovely, June,” he said.
    â€œYou’d let me go out in public looking like a fool, wouldn’t you,” she said.
    â€œDear God.”
    â€œAt least I had sense enough to buy this,” she said, slipping a mesh cover-up over the suit.
    As they drove up-island, the devastation of the hurricane became even more pronounced. Obviously, cleanup had been prioritized, and the less populated side of the island was still awaiting attention. Along the winding road, branches and other windblown debris still littered the roadway, though larger downed limbs had been dragged onto the shoulder. The air was thick with yellow bees, which pinged angrily off their windshield.
    But further on the landscape opened up, rewarding them every quarter mile or so with a glimpse of blue ocean, until finally the road climbed and narrowed and there was blue sky and ocean on both sides. June’s spirits seemed to lift as the car climbed the final stretch toward the lighthouse perched on a cliff. Halfway down the boardwalk path to the beach, they stopped so June could pull off the cotton cover-up, and she surrendered a grudging smile. “There,” she said. “Are you happy now?”
    â€œI
was
happy,” he protested. “I
am
happy.”
    â€œFeel that breeze,” she said.
    By the time they got to the beach, Snow realized he was out of shape and allowed June to carry the beach chairs while he shouldered the bag that contained their