Page 125 of The Book of Summer

“What’s new?” Cissy takes a sip of her drink, vodka-whatever. “Unfortunately, not much.”

“What about Mr. Mayhew? Anything new with him?”

“Chappy?” Cissy screws up her face. “Not that I know of. Other than the bastard’s probably thrilled that Mike won’t move the house. And neither will anyone else. I’ve tried everyone. Oh, Bessie. I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do.”

Cissy’s eyes begin to water, tugging on Bess’s heart for a second before Bess gets her emotions back in check. She scowls to break free.

“And how would Chappy know the details?” Bess asks. “About the engineers?”

Her mother shrugs.

“It’s a small island,” she says. “And he lives across the road. Good grief, he’s being such an asshole. Chappy, not the engineer. Although Mike’s an asshole, too, seeing as how he won’t do what I ask, no matter how much money I offer.”

“An asshole, huh? So was it angry sex then?”

“Beg pardon?”

“What happened between you and Chappy. This morning. In the dawn’s early light.”

Cissy jolts. She would’ve dropped her highball if she wasn’t holding on to it with such a fierce grip.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re…”

“Can it, Cis. You’ve been catting around with Chappy for the better part of two decades.”

“Wherever you got that ridiculous notion…”

“Evan confirmed it and he always tells the truth.”

Bess thinks of the Book of Summer.

“Okay, not always,” she adds. “Usually. Eventually. Anyway, he’d have no reason to lie about this.”

Cissy nods wearily and sets down her glass, the weight of fifteen years, the weight of ninety-nine, at once heavy upon her. She gazes out toward the horizon as thunder rumbles in the distance. The forecast calls for heavy rains.

“Well, now you know,” Cissy says. “There’s not much else to say.”

“Oh, there’s plenty to say.” Bess walks under the overhang and out of the drizzle. She glances toward the box, half expecting rats and mice to come leaping out. “Like, what the hell, Mom?”

“Bess, be constructive.”

“Fine. Why cheat on Dad? Why maintain such a sham of a marriage?”

“Because of you. And Clay and Lala. Even your dad. Sometimes keeping the family together under one roof is the best option. By the way, I find the word ‘sham’ unnecessarily harsh.”

Bess makes a dramatic show of looking upward at the ceiling above them. She takes several large steps backward, out into the weather, letting her eyes travel the full height of the house.

“Hmmm,” Bess says. “There’s a roof. For now. But I don’t see our family under it. No Dad. No Clay. And definitely no Lala. We are right now at only forty percent.”

She steps back beneath the covering.

“You know very well that ‘under one roof’ is metaphorical,” Cissy says. “And, really, I was referring to your childhood. I did what I needed to and I don’t regret it.” She inhales, taking a shaky, quivery breath down with her. “If it makes you feel any better, Chappy and I are done for good.”

“Of course it doesn’t make me feel better,” Bess says. “Plus you’re not ‘done.’ I’ve heard the two of you are quite prone to the back-and-forth.”

“Not like this. I mean, yes, we’ve, um, severed relations before,” Cis says, starting to tear. “But I’ve instigated it. I’ve been the one to declare ‘enough.’ Never Chappy. That is, until today.”

“Why?” Bess asks as an unexpected surge of protectiveness courses through her. It’s like she wants to go all Cissy Codman on the man and tell him to fuck off. “What’d he say?”