They swam out into the deeper water, side by side. She had a strong, clean stroke; he found it difficult to keep up with her. He thought of his father in the hospital, and then put it out of his mind. He put everything out of his mind. There was only the sea now, and the sun overhead, and the girl swimming by his side. The sea glistened everywhere around them; the sun was strong overhead. All that gold, the diamonds, the diamonds. They swam out very deep. When at last they stopped to rest, treading water, they were both out of breath.
“That was marvelous,” she said.
They were very far from the shore.
“We still have to get back,” David said.
“Oh, we will,” she said. “Not yet, though. Let’s rest a bit. Let’s lie on our backs, and float, and drift, and rest.”
They floated free on their backs in the water. They bobbed on the surface, legs akimbo, arms spread. Their hands almost touched.
“If this were Marbella,” she said, “I’d have my top off in a wink.”
He said nothing.
They floated. The sun beat down on them.
“Do I dare here in America?” she asked.
Without waiting for an answer, she righted herself in the water and reached behind her to unclasp the bikini top. She floated on her back beside him again, the black top in one hand, trailing on the water. He did not turn to look at her.
“I hope sharks don’t like English breasts,” she said, and laughed. Her laughter splintered on the sunlit air, drifted. The water murmured around them. They floated.
“Delicious,” she said.
They drifted.
“Here in the sea,” she said, “it could be Spain, couldn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Or anywhere, actually. France, Italy...” Her voice drifted.
They floated.
“Have you ever been to Italy?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
She was silent for a moment.
Then she said, “Are you married, David?”
He hesitated. “Yes,” he said. “Are you?”
“I used to be.”
“Divorced?”
“Yes. Why did you hesitate?” she asked. “Were you about to lie?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Then why did you hesitate?”
“I guess... well, I’m not used to this sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Meeting a young girl...”
“Young? Why, thank you.”
“You are,” he said.
“Twenty-nine,” she said.
“When a man’s fifty, twenty-nine seems...”
“Are you fifty?”
“I’ll be fifty in August.”
“That’s still forty-nine.”
“Well.”
“Well, isn’t it?”
“It feels like fifty.”
“Anyway, do go on, please. About meeting a young girl, please don’t leave out the young part.”
“And... talking this way... sharing an afternoon this way...”
His voice trailed.
“How long have you been married?” she asked.
“Almost twenty-two years.”
“That’s quite a long time.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any children?”
He hesitated again.
“No,” he said.
They floated in the sea, he and Molly. The sun was strong overhead.
“This is the only way to live,” she said.
“Who needs money?” he said.
It was three o’clock in East Hampton. In Connecticut, his son was just getting off the train at the Darien station. Three p.m., his friend later said. That was when Stephen had arrived. His friend was waiting for him in the Jaguar that later killed him.
“We’ve never done it in the ocean,” Molly said. “Do you realize that?”
“Shrivels up in the water,” David said.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
“They’d see us,” David said.
“We’ll charge admission,” Molly said, and laughed.
“Make a fortune,” David said.
All the television newscasters had warned their viewers to keep away from Lower Manhattan today. Biggest celebration in the history of the city. Two hundredth anniversary of American independence. The crush would be unbelievable. They had decided to trust the dire forecasts. At first they thought they might stay in the apartment part of the day, away from the crowd. Mix some drinks, watch the festivities on television. But David’s partner called early in the morning, inviting them out to the Island, one of his famous last-minute invitations. Big fireworks display tonight, he’d promised. Parties all over town. Stephen was packing to leave for Connecticut, to visit with a schoolmate there. He would not be back till late Monday sometime. They had not known he would never be back. They accepted the invitation.
They floated, they drifted.
“Do you know who loves you?” Molly said.
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
“Three guesses. If you guess wrong, I’ll wave my magic wand and turn you into a toad.”
“Sophia Loren,” he said.
“Wrong.”
“Jane Fonda.”
“One more guess.”
“Alice Reardon.”
“Who’s that?”
“Girl I knew in the third grade. Irish girl.”
“I’m your Irish girl,” Molly said.
“My Yiddishe Shiksa.”
“Where’s that thing?” she said, reaching for him.
“Come on, hey!”
“Where’s my magic wand?”
Her hand groped for the front of his swimming trunks. He was aware of the people on the beach. He could hear the murmur of voices hanging on the air, floating, drifting. Somewhere there was the echo of a scratchy phonograph record on a windup machine. A single cloud drifted overhead. He could feel moist sea wind on his face. Laughing, he swam away from her. She swam after him. He splashed water at her. She splashed water back. He wiped his face. Laughing, he was ready to splash her again when he realized she was no longer giving chase. She treaded water some five feet away from him. Her hand broke the surface.
“Interested, baby?” she asked with a lewd wink, and waved her bikini bottom at him.
“Put that back on,” he said.
“Free show, free show!” she yelled to the beach.
“Molly, come on!” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward the beach.
“Race you back,” she said, the bikini bottom still in her hand. She broke into a fast crawl. He swam after her. He caught her. He pulled her to him.
“Put on your pants,” he said.
“Take yours off,” she said.
She moved closer to him in the circle of his arms.
“Let’s fuck in the water,” she said.
He was already hard.
“Save it for later,” he said.
“Promise?”
“Solemn oath.”
“Who loves you?” she said.
“You love me,” he said.
She kissed him.
“You’re supposed to say something in return,” she said.
“I love you, Molly. I love you to death.”
She put on the bikini bottom.
“We’ll do it in the tub later,” she said.
“Let’s go do it in the tub now,” he said.
“Can’t. Big party at four o’clock.”
“How am I supposed to walk out on the beach with this thing?” he asked.
“Your own fault,” she said. “I could have taken care of it in a minute.”
“They’ll arrest me for indecent exposure. I’ll be disbarred.”
“Just let it shrivel, darling,” she said airily, and began swimming back toward the beach.
The round of parties started at four o’clock. At about that time, according to Stephen’s friend, the kids were sitting around drinking beer, smoking a little pot, bullshitting the afternoon away. There was supposed to be a parade in town later in the day. The kids all planned to go to it. And fireworks that night. There would be fireworks all over America tonight.