Forgive Me

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t remember it much,” said Nadine. “My life started after I left.”

“Coffee?” said Hank.

“Great.”

Nadine watched his red T-shirt as he walked away. The shirt had an ice cream cone on the back. His jeans were faded, and his hiking boots looked well worn. Hank’s thick black curls needed a trim.

The ferry rocked slowly. Hank returned a few minutes later, balancing a cardboard tray of coffees in one hand. “Cream and sugar?” he said.

“Neither,” said Nadine.

“I figured,” said Hank, handing her a paper cup.

“At what point does a sailboat become a yacht?” said Nadine.

“Hm,” said Hank. “Fifteen feet? Twenty?”

“Oh,” said Nadine. “Well, you learn something every day.”

“Do you?”

Nadine sipped her coffee. “You know,” she said, “I do.”

“I envy you, then.”

“I love my job,” said Nadine.

“Yes,” said Hank, “you’ve said that.”

“Why do you sound as if you don’t believe me?”

“I used to work in an emergency room in Boston,” said Hank. “At first, it was great. You know, it was what I was trained to do. Someone ODs, or comes in with a broken leg, I know how to handle it. At work, I was happy. I guess it was somewhat like you said. I felt alive. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t switch it off. I mean, you walk out the door, you know, you walk outside, but those patients are still… you’re supposed to go on home, have a beer, relax. I’d take the T, twenty minutes, and then my wife would be opening the door, wanting to go see a movie or talk about new paint for the living room… it was strange. It got to me. I felt as if I couldn’t stop, not for a minute. I didn’t like who I turned into. I didn’t like who I was, outside the ER.”

“I could stop,” said Nadine.

“Okay,” said Hank.

A man began to spray bright yellow cleanser on the ferry window, wiping it afterward with a thin blade. He wore a jacket that read STEAMSHIP AUTHORITY. There were two patches on his jacket: an American flag, and his name, JEFF. Jeff was sweaty and had a pimple in the center of his forehead. He sprayed the cleanser and wiped it away.

“Gwen told me your wife, um,” said Nadine.

The old woman began patting her dog and talking to it. “We had a wonderful morning, didn’t we?” she said. “You saw your friend Austin, didn’t you?” The dog, like Hank, did not respond.

“Gwen told me your wife, well, went on a Carnival Cruise ship… this can’t be true…”

“No,” said Hank, “it is true. We went on the cruise together. It was a theme cruise.”

“I don’t want to ask,” said Nadine.

“ ‘Bring Back the Zing,’ “ said Hank, staring at Jeff, who sprayed and wiped.

“Pardon?” said Nadine. “The zing?”

“You heard me,” said Hank. “It was for couples. ‘Bring Back the Zing.’ It was my idea.”

“Oh, Hank,” said Nadine.

“I’d been working around the clock. I knew Maryjane was unhappy. I thought that maybe if I got far enough away, I could shut off. I could… talk about her, pay attention to her.” He rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “I got us tickets on ‘Bring Back the Zing.’ We were supposed to make love from Miami to Bermuda.”

“But Gwen said… and again, this cannot be true–”

“Oh it’s true,” said Hank. “Hercules Kalapoulou.”

“Hercules?”

“You might ask yourself, as I did, why a divorced Greek businessman booked a room on ‘Bring Back the Zing.’ But Maryjane didn’t ask any questions. When the cruise was over, so was our marriage.”

“I don’t know what to say,” said Nadine.

“I went back to the ER for a year, and then decided I wanted a quieter life. A small community. I guess I wanted a home. Falmouth needed a generalist And that’s the story.”

Nadine shook her head. “Wow.”

Hank nodded. “I suppose I can see the humor in it now,” he said, one side of his mouth turning up. He continued to look out the window. Nadine couldn’t tell if he was seeing Jeff or the water beyond Jeff. The glass did not look any clearer.

“I’ve never been on a cruise,” said Nadine.

“So I sold my place in Falmouth after a year,” Hank said, forging ahead. “I rent a condo now. And I bought the house on Nantucket. It has a fireplace. I love it out here.”

“You love Nantucket, too, Mario,” said the woman next to them. She was talking to her dog again. “Don’t you, Mario? Don’t you love Nantucket?”

A man with red hair walked by. There was a comb in his back pocket. “Aren’t you a good boy?” said the woman, scratching her dog’s belly. “Aren’t you a good, good boy?”

“So that’s my saga,” said Hank. “What’s yours?”

“Oh, you know,” said Nadine.

“No,” said Hank. “I don’t.”

“Well,” said Nadine, “what have you heard?”

“Jim Morgan’s daughter,” said Hank, sitting back in his seat. “Difficult as a kid. Crazy in high school. Always looking for trouble. Ran away with a guy who came through town on a Harley-Davidson. Called her dad from Sturgis, wanting money to come home.”

Nadine smiled. She had met Sammy after the Senior Dinner Dance, which had been held on a spring Saturday night under a tent overlooking Old Silver Beach. Tiny white lights twinkled along the edge of the canvas fabric, and the temperature was a perfect seventy-five degrees. The strains of “Wonderful Tonight” played as Nadine’s date, Liam Baker, spun her too fast. Over his shoulder, Nadine saw a girl she barely knew crying by the punch bowl. She saw Lily dancing with Dennis, trying to look happy as Dennis, too drunk, staggered around the parquet floor.

“This is perfect,” whispered Liam in Nadine’s ear. Poor Liam, who thought they would get married and stay on Cape Cod forever. Suddenly Nadine couldn’t bear it: Liam’s overpowering cologne, the crying girl, Lily pretending so fiercely. The sun set, an orange orb, and the gap between the reality of imminent heartbreak all around her and the cheery illusion of a perfect summer night was too wide for Nadine to straddle. She twisted free of Liam’s embrace and ran. She ran until her legs wore out, and then she sat on the back porch of someone’s empty summer house and watched the stars. She fell asleep on a teak lounge chair.