the shoreline, watching. She wore a long sheer white cover-up over her bathing suit. When a wave came in, Drum positioned Curtis’s board and yelled, “GO!” and Curtis paddled like crazy, then got into his crouch, then he stood. He stood! He rode the wave to shore, and Hadley cheered madly. Drum said, “Let’s do it again!”
Margot watched as a few more sets rolled in. She marveled at how Curtis’s body moved just like his father’s. He gritted his teeth in determination; his eyes bulged. He stood time after time after time; he had it down. Drum had taught him, or had been able to coax out Curtis’s natural ability. Hadley clapped and danced; she got the hem of her cover-up wet in the froth of the waves.
Drum came in, and Hadley handed him a towel. He wiped at his face and pointed at Curtis. Curtis was going to try it by himself. This was good, this was great. Margot focused on Drum and Hadley, standing side-by-side on the beach. If Drum turned and saw her, he would realize she was spying on him, but he would think it was for a different reason. He would think she wanted to catch him at something; he would think she had come out here to confirm her worst fears. He would never guess that she was wishing for something to happen; he would never predict her hunger to feel jealous.
Curtis paddled out. Hadley turned to Drum, she raised her face to him, she touched his bare chest with one Concord grape–painted finger. She was thanking him, telling him how miraculous he was, telling him how he had saved the say, telling him how amazing it had been watching Drum out in the water with her son. She drew a line from his heart down his chest then down to his stomach, then down to his…
Drum grabbed Hadley’s hand. This was it! Margot thought. They were going to kiss!
Drum dropped Hadley’s hand, he didn’t exactly shove it away, but it was definitely a gesture of dismissal. He was giving her her hand back, saying, please don’t touch me like that, I’m a married man.
Hadley tried again. Maybe her luck with men was based on pure persistence. She took a step closer to Drum and upturned her face, pursing her lips. One of the straps of her cover-up slipped off her shoulder. There could be no mistaking her intentions. Margot thought,
Take the bait, Drum! This is the woman who taught you to love pistachio ice cream, who encouraged you to make “In the Blood” your own personal anthem.
But Drum stepped away, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe her gall; he walked a few yards away, spread out his towel, and sat down. He pulled his cell phone out of his backpack.
Hadley called something out to him, but he didn’t even bother looking up.
Margot’s heart plummeted. Her eyes filled with tears. And at that second, her phone buzzed. She had a text message from Drum.
I love you,
it said.
I wish you were here.
Margot looked up in alarm, thinking he must have seen her and
that
was why he hadn’t kissed Hadley,
that
was why he’d walked away. But when she checked, Hadley was staring at Drum, and Drum was resting his forearms on his knees, watching Curtis surf. He hadn’t seen Margot. If he had seen her, he would have beckoned her down. He didn’t play games like this.
Suddenly a man came up behind Margot and she nearly jumped out of her shoes. He was a couple years older than she was, and he wore only a pair of orange swim trunks; he was carrying a long board. His bare torso was tanned the deep brown of a tobacco leaf; his hair was black and wavy, with a few strands of gray in the front. He stopped next to Margot when he saw the scene transpiring down on the beach.
He said, “Holy Mother of God, look who we have here.”
Margot didn’t respond. The man sounded like a carnival barker who smoked a hundred cigarettes a day.
He turned to her. He said, “That there is the girl of my dreams.”
Margot nodded. The girl of everyone’s dreams.
She said, “You’re Elvis?”
His eyes lifted in surprise. He held