Forgive Me

“Hey,” said Nadine.

“Your dad called me,” said Lily. “He thought I might know where to find you.”

Nadine shoved the book back in its place, but Lily sat down heavily on the floor and said, “Nadine Gordimer?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” said Nadine.

“I’m not,” said Lily. “It’s freezing.”

Nadine sighed. “Fucking Gwen,” she said.

“She’s all right,” said Lily.

“Please,” said Nadine. “Have you seen the holiday outfits?”

“She means well,” said Lily.

“I just don’t belong here,” said Nadine. “I never have.”

“I’m here, though,” said Lily.

Nadine put her head on Lily’s shoulder. When Lily reached for her hand, their fingers laced together. They sat in silence, watching Vineyard Sound.

Eight

Nadine spent a sleepless night on Lily’s couch. Dennis, flushed from cans of Budweiser, had sat with his giant hands covering his knees and told Nadine which septic systems in town his company had installed. “And underneath the coffee shop?” he said. “Wait till you hear this, Nadine.”

One baby or another screamed all night long. By morning, Nadine was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. In a bathroom covered with celebrity magazines and plastic bath toys, she combed her hair with her fingers and tried to make a plan. She had to get back to her quiet apartment in Mexico City. Bo burst in and screamed, “Nadine going peep in the potty!”

“I’m going to need some time by myself,” said Nadine. “Okay, honey?”

“Nadine going poop in the potty!” cried Bo, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Without thinking, Nadine tried to push the door closed, but Bo’s fingers were in the way. He looked at his hand, stunned, and then began to wail.

“Oh, shit,” said Nadine. “I’m really sorry, Bo. Can this be a secret?”

Lily came upstairs, carrying a basket of clean laundry. She looked at Nadine quizzically, then put down the laundry and gathered Bo in her arms. Bo sobbed, “Nadine go peep in the potty! Nadine hurt me!”

Nadine stood and pulled up her pants. “Time for me to head on out,” she said.

“Sorry,” said Hank, as Nadine sat on an examining table in a borrowed T-shirt and jeans. “Did I hear you correctly? You want money for a bus ticket?”

“I need to get to Logan,” said Nadine, “and they don’t take credit cards at the bus station.”

Hank crossed his arms and leaned back against a counter lined with glass bottles of tongue depressors and Q-tips.

“Anyone going to meet you at the airport?” he asked.

“Sure, yes. I don’t need to remind you, Hank, but I am an adult.”

“I don’t need to remind you, Nadine, but I don’t have to give you bus fare.”

“Fine,” said Nadine, sliding off the table. She turned and banged her left arm, sending pain shooting to her wrist. Nadine gritted her teeth.

“I have a house on Nantucket,” said Hank. “I’m headed there for the holidays. Why don’t you join me?”

“Thank you,” said Nadine. “That’s nice. I’m fine, though. I just need to get back to Mexico City.” She tried to catch her breath and ignore the dizziness, the dark patches at the edges of her vision.

“I love to cook,” said Hank, “and there’s a bar with good burgers downtown. I can push you there in my wheelbarrow.”

Nadine tried to smile, and shook her head.

“You won’t make it to Mexico City,” said Hank. “Nadine, you’re still on some strong painkillers, and your body has undergone a serious trauma. You’ll pass out at the bus station.”

“I have friends who can help me.” Nadine wasn’t sure this was true, and the room did look fuzzy. Oh hell, she thought. She envisioned the long security line at the airport. She thought about her empty apartment, the meaningless flirtations with the fact checker next door. She wanted so desperately to get back to work, but she couldn’t travel, not like this. She had to sit down, just for a little while.

“Okay,” said Hank. “Thought I’d give it a shot. It’s lonely out there. You take care, Nadine. Have a great holiday.”

“All right,” said Nadine. “All right, fine.”

“Let me help you to the door,” said Hank. “Do you want to take your records, or should we fax them to your doctor in Mexico?”

“I said fine,” said Nadine.

“What?”

“Let’s go,” said Nadine. “I don’t… I said, okay. Let’s go to Nantucket. But I’ll need… I need some clothes.”

“They have clothes on Nantucket,” said Hank.

“I shudder to think,” said Nadine.

“You’re my second-to-last appointment. I was planning on catching the four PM ferry.”

“I’ll be in your lobby,” said Nadine.

The receptionist did not appear to notice as Nadine sat down in an orange plastic chair and paged through the Cape Cod Times. She finished the paper, three old People magazines, and one Travel+Leisure before Hank appeared.

Nine

Sun shone on the water as the ferry moved out of Hyannis Harbor and past expensive gray homes. Next to Nadine and Hank, an old woman petted her dog. The dogs collar was printed with tiny lobsters.

“Look,” said Nadine, “a yacht.” She pointed. It was a lovely boat, its sails bound in blue cloth. “Or I guess you’d call that a sailboat.”

“Definitely a sailboat,” said Hank. “Didn’t you grow up here?”

“Sort of,” said Nadine.