Chapter 1
Since they retired a few years ago my parents have spent each summer at our house on the beach. This year I converted one of the guest rooms into a studio and joined them for the summer, spending my days painting, studying the water and the sky, working on endless studies of the light on the ocean. It was just me and my parents during the week, but David, my brother, took the train out from the city some weekends.
At the beginning of August my parents were heading to Italy for a couple of weeks to take a trip with some old friends. So on a Friday afternoon I drove them to the airport. David met us at the airport to see them off. "Be good while we're away," my mother said, the same thing she has been saying to us since they first left us alone at home when I was thirteen and David seventeen.
"Do you intend to be good?" I asked David as I drove with him back to the beach.
"There's not very much to get up to out here," he said.
"I'm not so sure of that," I replied. "But I'll probably end up being good anyway. That's how boring I've become."
He smiled at me. "You're just in a bit of a rut. You need some adventure rather than spending each day painting."
"Maybe you can put your clever mind to it for me," I said, returning his smile.
I'd always been in awe at how clever he was. He sailed through high school, college, law school, and was now a lawyer at a big firm in the city. The thing was though -- and he would never admit it -- he had become more conservative in his dress, outlook, everything. But this summer he had met a girl who seemed to be good for him. It was just a summer fling, he said. She was French, working in the city for a couple of months, but he seemed more energized, more alive.
We stopped at the town a few miles from the beach to buy some groceries. Then we sat at a cafe on the boardwalk enjoying each other's company.
"So tell me about the sexy Marie," I said. "How's it going with her."
"It's great," he said. "She's so much fun. It's such a drag she's going back to Europe in a couple of weeks."
"Maybe that's why it's so exciting," I suggested. "Knowing it's going to end soon."
"Sweetie, is that why you get bored with your boyfriends after three months? That's your attention span?"
"No. I get bored with them because I should never have gone out with them in the first place."
"So instead you're not going to go out with anyone?"
"No. I'm going to focus on my painting and forget entirely about boys."
"And at what age are you going to leave this convent of yours?"
"When the world recognizes me for the great artist I am and I earn vast sums of money and can afford whatever toy boys I want."
"Good luck sweetie."
"Thanks bro," I replied. "You've always supported my ambitions." I put my tongue out at him. He returned the gesture.
"I'm so glad we're going to spend the weekend alone at the house," I said. "It'll be wonderful to be able to hang out together without mom and dad around."
"Well, actually," he said, looking a bit embarrassed, "I asked Marie to come out for the weekend. I didn't think you'd mind."
"You rat!" I said. "So you're going to spend the weekend canoodling with your French floozie while I'm moping around trying to ignore the moans coming from your bedroom?"
"Sweetie, I'm not a rat and she's not a floozie. You'll like her. She's very sweet."
"I see you're not denying the moaning," I said.
"I'll keep it down," he said.
"Yeah, right, like when you've been having phone sex with her the other weekends you've been out here."
"You were listening? What did you hear?" he asked anxiously.
"Nothing," I said, lying. I had the room next to him, and the walls were very thin, and I had heard a lot. That's how I knew he was perhaps not really as conservative as he gave the appearance of being.
"I can cancel her if you'd like," he said.
"No. I'm sure we'll have fun," I said, not convinced at all that we would.
I got up from the table. "I want to go to a store just down the street. You'll be good while I'm gone?"
"I'll be good. But hurry back. I'm eager to get to the house."
"Ok. But I need some money. Do you have some?"
He took out his wallet. "I have about $100. How much do you need?"
"I'll take it," I said. "I'll give you the change."
"What are you buying?" he asked.
"A birthday present."
"Who for?"
"For me. From you."
"Ah, yes. Sorry about that. The pressure of work, I forgot . . ."
"Did the pressure of work make you forget to fuck your French sweetheart?"
"I'm sorry sweetie. And I never know what to get you. So cash is the best gift anyway, isn't it."
"Don't try to snivel out of it, you rat." I made a rat face at him, baring my teeth.
"Happy birthday Ricki!" he shouted after me as I walked down the boardwalk to the store.
Half an hour later we were back in the car and driving to the beach. "So what did I get you?" he asked.
"It's on the back seat," I said. He reached around from where he was sitting in the passenger seat and took the bag. He opened it and took out the black bikini I had bought.