“I'm fine. Busy with the kids. It's great here. All the same faces, old friends. Jenny and Dick have been wonderful, as usual. The kids are back with all their old pals again. Nothing new here.” It was what she loved about it. The sameness and familiarity. It was like burrowing into an old cozy pillow in a favorite nightgown. “How are you?”
“Tired. Working. I haven't taken a minute off since you left. I figured I'd just buckle down and do it. I still won't make it up for the Fourth though.”
“I know, you told me.” Her voice was noncommittal. She was still angry at him over their conversation during the fateful dinner.
“I didn't want you or the kids to be disappointed,” Doug said apologetically.
“We won't be. We're going to the Parkers for their barbecue.”
“Stick to the steaks, they're the only thing Dick doesn't set fire to.” She smiled at the memory, and told him that they had hired a cook this year. “I miss you guys,” he said comfortably. Collectively. But not “I miss you.” She would have liked to hear that, but she didn't tell him she missed him either. The truth was she didn't. And she was still having conflicting feelings about him ever since their discussions before she left Westport. But somehow, she got the impression he'd forgotten all about it. He had never fully understood how deeply he had upset her, or how devastated she had felt when he talked about what he expected of their marriage. Sometimes she felt as though she didn't know who she was now, his friend, his housekeeper, his “reliable companion.” She didn't want to be any of those, she wanted to be his lover. And she realized now that she wasn't. She felt like a hired hand, a slave, a convenience, an object he took for granted. Like a vehicle he had used to transport his children. She felt no more important to him than the station wagon they had used to get there. It was an empty feeling and it put a distance between them she had never felt before.
“I'll call you tomorrow,” he said impersonally. “Good night, India.” She waited for him to say that he loved her, or missed her, but he didn't. And she wondered, as she hung up, if this was how Gail had arrived at the place where she had been for several years now. Feeling used and bored and empty and unloved. So much so that she had to meet other men in hotels in order to feel better. It was a destination India never wanted to arrive at. She would do anything before she started meeting men in motels, or sleeping with other women's husbands. That was not what she had come this far for. But what had she come for, she asked herself as she walked into the darkroom, lost in her own thoughts.
She took out her chemicals and began developing her film as she mused over her conversation with her husband, and then as she looked at the photographs developing in the tubs, she saw him. Paul. Smiling up at her. Laughing with Sam. Ducking his head in the dinghy, against the horizon looking incredibly handsome. It was an endless string of striking portraits of him, and told the tale of a magical afternoon between a man and a boy. It was the portrait of a hero, and she stood for a long time, looking at the pictures, thinking about him, and Serena. He had used such an odd combination of words to describe her. In some ways she sounded terrifying, in others fatally enticing. She could sense easily that he was in love with her, intrigued by her, and he claimed he was happy with her. And yet, everything he said had told India instinctively that she was anything but easy. But what they seemed to share appeared to suggest excitement. It made her wonder once again what she had with Doug. What did it all mean? And more importantly, what were the essential components of a good marriage? She no longer understood them. The ingredients she thought were necessary she'd been told were unimportant, and the things Paul said about Serena, about her being difficult, obstinate, challenging, aggressive at times, seemed to make him love her. As India thought about it, she decided that deciphering relationships and what made them work was momentarily beyond her. She no longer had the answers she had been so sure of not very long ago.
She hung the pictures up to dry, and left her darkroom to check on the children. Sam had fallen asleep, on the couch, watching a video, and the others were playing tag outside the house, in the dark by flashlight, and Jessica and a friend, one of the Boardman boys, were eating cold pizza in the kitchen. Everything seemed to be in order. All was well in her safe little world.
She carried Sam to bed, and managed to undress him without waking him up. He was exhausted after all the fresh air and excitement he'd had on the Sea Star. And as she looked down at him, she thought of Paul and the pictures she'd taken of him.
But then she had an even stranger thought, as she turned off the light and walked slowly back to her bedroom. She wondered suddenly what it would be like to be doing this alone, if she and Doug were no longer married. How different would it be? She did it all now. She cared for the children, she was here alone. She had all the responsibility, she did all the chores, did all the nurturing and worrying and cooking and cleaning. The only thing she didn't do was support them. It was scary thinking of it, but what if Doug left her? If he died? Would her life be so different? Would she feel more alone than she did now, knowing that she was just a tool to him, a convenience? What would happen to her if she lost him? Years before, she had worried about it, when the kids were small and she felt she couldn't live for an hour without him. But that had been when she thought he was in love with her. But now that she realized he wasn't in love, and felt no need to be, what would it really mean now to be without him? She felt guilty for even thinking of it, as though she had waved a magic wand and “disappeared” him. Just thinking about it was a form of treason. But no one knew what she was thinking. She would never have dared put the thoughts into words, not to anyone, not even Gail. And certainly not to Doug.
She lay on her bed for a while, and picked up a book finally, but she found she couldn't read it. All she could hear were her own questions echoing through her head, and there were a thousand of them. And louder than all of them was the one she feared most. What did their marriage mean to her now? Now that she knew what Doug was thinking. It changed everything, like the subtle turn of a dial that changed the music from sweet melody to endless static that hurt one's eardrums. And she could no longer pretend to herself that what she heard was music. It wasn't. Hadn't been for weeks. Maybe longer than that. Maybe it never had been. That was the worst thought. Or had it been something very sweet, and had they lost it? She considered that possibility the most likely. Maybe it happened to everyone in the end. Eventually, you lost the magic …and wound up bitter or angry, or like Gail, trying to empty an ocean of loneliness with a teacup. It seemed hopeless to her.
She gave up on the book eventually, and went out to the deck to check on the children playing tag, and found they had settled down in the living room finally, and were talking quietly with the television on in the background. And all she could do was stand there, staring up at the stars and wondering what would happen to her life now. Probably nothing. She would drive car pools for the next nine years, until Sam was old enough to drive, or maybe three years before that when Jason could drive him and Aimee, and she would be off the hook then. And then what? More laundry, more meals until they left for college, and then waiting for them to come home for vacations. And what would happen to her and Doug then? What would they say to each other? Suddenly, it all sounded so lonely, and so empty. That was all she felt now. Empty. Broken. Cheated. And yet she had to go on, like a piece of machinery, cranking away, producing whatever it was meant to, until it broke down completely. It didn't seem too hopeful, or too appealing. And as she thought of it, she looked out over the ocean, and saw it. The Sea Star, in all her glory, with all the lights lit in the main saloon and the cabins, with red lights twinkling on the mast, as they went for a night sail. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, and it looked like the perfect escape. A kind of magic carpet, to wherever you wanted it to take you. She could see why Paul sailed all over the world. What better way to explore new places? It was like taking your house with you, your own safe little world that went everywhere with you. At the moment, India couldn't imagine anything better, and for just an instant, she would have loved to hide there, and she thought Paul Ward was lucky to have it. The boat looked so lovely as it sailed past her. She was sorry that Sam was asleep and couldn't see it, but at least he'd be back on board in the morning, and she knew how much he was looking forward to it.