Cindy thought of all the plans she and Clint had had for the future. Just being in the house brought them all back. She looked at the photographs hanging on the walls and photos of the two of them together, smiling, laughing, holding hands . None of this seemed real. His clothes were still hanging in the closet, his books were in the bookcases. There were even a few old surfboards in the basement downstairs. It was as if nothing had ever happened, as if time stood still.
She thought of the family they’d been eager to start . She would never bear his children now. She would never have that part of him.
“He’s everywhere,” she said to Ann. “Just look around.”
“Little by little, you’ll have to begin to clear his things out,” Ann replied.
That shocked Cindy. “Never,” she breathed. “I’ll never throw him away.”
“No one’s saying you’re throwing him away. But little by little you’ll need to take his things down, clear out the closets.”
Suddenly Cindy wanted Ann to be gone. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain Cindy was going through. If she could, she never would speak like this.
“Look, I know it’s a terrible thing that happened,” Ann said, “I know you’re still in shock. These awful accidents happen, though. They’re no one’s fault.”
Cindy felt her blood turn cold. “Accident?”
Ann stared at her. “Of course. It was an accident.”
“Says who?” Cindy said.
“What are you talking about? The police in Barbados declared it an accident. Clint fell off the surfboard, it hit him on the head and snapped his neck.”
“No,” Cindy replied, “it didn’t happen like that.”
Ann’s face turned pale. “Yes it did. The bruises on his body are consistent with the report. A sudden riptide came in.”
“There was no riptide that afternoon. The sun was shining. It was a beautiful day.”
“Cindy,” Ann spoke slowly, “Riptides come suddenly and then they’re gone.”
“It was NOT an accident,” Cindy intoned.
Ann stared back, shocked.
“According to who?” Ann said.
“Whose side are you on, Ann?” Cindy said, angry.
“Whose side? What are you talking about?”
“The police just wanted the case closed in the blink of an eye,” Cindy said methodically.
Ann got up from her chair and started walking back and forth slowly. Cindy could tell how agitated her sister felt.
Cindy got up, too, and started pacing beside her sister. “Clint was a top tier surfer,” Cindy continued. “He knew the ocean, he knew the waves. He’d surfed in much rougher waters. There was no reason for him to die.”
Ann stopped and looked Cindy straight in the eye.
“Look,” she said, “I know how tough this is for you. Don’t make it worse than it is. Don’t start imagining all kinds of things.”
“I’m not imagining anything,” Cindy said. “I’ve had plenty of time to think things over and nothing’s gelling for me. It doesn’t make sense.”
Ann began rubbing her hands up and down her sides. It was an old habit of hers. She did it when she was nervous and didn’t know what else to do.
“Cindy, I beg you, don’t go crazy,” she finally said. “I love you and I need you to be okay for me too.”
Cindy’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ll never be okay,” she said, “and I’m not going crazy. It’s something I just know.”
“Let’s leave it at that for now,” Ann said softly. “It’s common to think all kinds of things when someone you love suddenly dies. Your problem is that you’ve been cooped up in here for days. You’re not thinking clearly. You’re not changing, not showering, not even going outside.”
“I don’t want to,” Cindy snapped back. “Let me be.”
“There are more people who want to come visit. You need to let them in. You need to see them.”
“I’m not ready!” Cindy yelled back.
“Well, there are some visitors that you have no choice about.”
Cindy looked at her coldly. “Who?” she finally asked.
“Clint’s family. They called. They’re coming over today, at 3 o’clock.”
“I’m not ready to see them,” Cindy said.
“They didn’t ask,” Ann said.
Cindy’s body clenched.
“Don’t worry,” Ann said, “They have to come. It’s a duty call. But I won’t let anything happen. I’ll be here. It will all be fine.”
If Cindy knew anything about Clint’s family, she knew that a visit from them, even in the best of times, would be anything but fine.
Chapter 4
Cindy dreaded seeing Clint’s family, but knew she had no choice. It’s a duty call, she kept reminding herself. We’re all in the same boat here.
Clint’s family had objected to Cindy from the first day he brought her home. She wasn’t tall enough, smart enough, rich enough for them. She wasn’t slim enough either. His mother told him that Cindy’s body would go to fat after they had a child and probably never recover. Cindy didn’t come from their area either, as she was raised in Wisconsin. Nothing was good enough for them.
Cindy realized that Clint’s mother would find anything she could to break up the relationship. But not only her—for any woman. His mother did all she could to cast every possible doubt. Clint had had two other long-term relationships before her, and Clint had told her that his mother had managed to poison them both.
Cindy had talked to Clint a lot about this . How could they buy this house only a mile away from his family? What would happen after they were married? How would his parents react when they had kids?
But he couldn’t really see any problem, and he made all kinds of excuses for his mother, and told Cindy not to look for the worst . His sister Marge was a different story. Clint’s relationship with Marge had always been rocky, although Marge and her mother were inseparable. Marge lived a few blocks away from her, and Marge couldn’t stand to see Clint and his mother so close .
Marge got married a year ago. The man she married, Ralph—dark, quiet and inscrutable—was a lawyer, from a poor family on the other side of town. He’d put himself through college and law school and was doing well now - well enough to be accepted by the family . But they had always hoped Marge would marry James Torton, a rich kid from the neighborhood. Marge would have married him, too, but he left her suddenly, for someone else. Marge said she would carry the scars from that the rest of her life.
Now Cindy was getting ready for their visit. She knew she should put on something nicer. But she just couldn’t bear to change. With Clint dead, she didn’t feel entitled to wear anything nice. She would just have to greet his family in the lounging pants she’d been wearing, with the same old sweat shirt. She knew that as soon as they came in they would look her over from head to toe, watch her every move. They would scoff at her clothing. And if something were out of order, they’d be talking about it for days. But she didn’t really care.
The family would also check the house to see that everything was exactly where it belonged. They were furious when Clint bought this place without consulting them . They said it didn’t suit him and was too far away, down this long, deserted road. Who in their right mind would buy a clapboard, starter house that looked like a beach home?
Clint didn’t seem to care what they thought of it, and just put his photos everywhere, even the ones they didn’t like. Cindy’s memorabilia were perched in full display on the white, wooden shelves—hand-painted porcelain ducks and birds. Clint’s mother didn’t like them either. What grown woman would display objects like that? And who had designed the living room decor? The couch had tropical, colored cushions on it, and there were plants that were much too large growing everywhere. It was clearly Cindy’s influence, her lack of taste. This was definitely not the life she’d envisioned for her son. His mother had no compunction about telling him so, either . How Cindy landed someone like Clint baffled her mind.
Cindy was uneasy at the thought of seeing the family now. She knew they were devastated and had no idea how to comfort them. Thank God Ann was still here. She would not have been able to face them alone. .