She reluctantly turned away from the happy scene and toward Bobby. He stood with his arms crossed, an impatient expression on his face.
“Train wreck,” he said. “Did you see the size of her arms? She could use an hour of two of some triceps pull-downs. Like four times a day for the rest of her life.” He chuckled. “Ready?”
Carmen felt as if she’d been slapped. “She looks beautiful.” The bride and her groom were dancing now, in between the stopped cars. She twirled out, then in, out, then in. Each time she came close, her husband kissed her, so clearly thrilled at his own fortune. “You know, I always thought that you’d grow out of this.”
“Of what?” Bobby shook his curls off his forehead.
“Of being afraid.”
Bobby looked confused. “Listen, if this is about something my sister said—”
“I don’t care, Bobby. It’s not about anything your sister said, or didn’t say. It’s about you. I always thought that you would need some time, you know, to grow up, but I think I just realized that it’s never going to happen, not while I’m sitting around waiting for it. I’m gonna go home.”
“You want to walk back?” Bobby started to turn.
“No, you don’t understand,” Carmen said. “Back to Miami. Without you. This is over. I should have done this years ago. Don’t you see how happy they are?” She pointed to the bride and groom, still hugging their families, their smiles stretching their cheeks. It didn’t matter that the bride’s dress was too tight or hadn’t come from Vera Wang—she was happy. She wanted to be with this man for the rest of her life, and he felt just the same way. They had chosen to make the leap and, having leapt, were delighted to find that the world was even more beautiful than they’d hoped. Carmen knew right then that Bobby was never going to marry her. He was never going to leap, at least not with her at his side.
“You’re breaking up with me?” Bobby asked. She couldn’t tell if he looked confused, relieved, or both. There were lines on his forehead, but the corners of his mouth had begun to twitch into a nervous smile. “Right now?”
“Right now, Bobby. And I think you should take a little time off from Total Body Power, too. I’ll make sure your clients are covered. Take a few weeks to figure out what you’re going to do next, okay? You’re not a personal trainer, not really. And the powders don’t work unless you’re a bodybuilder. There’s just too much bullshit, you know?” With that, Carmen spun around and started walking back up the hill. She would call a taxi from the landline and figure out her flight when she got to the airport. She’d never been to mainland Spain—maybe she’d go there. She didn’t turn around to see if Bobby was walking behind her, because it didn’t matter. She would pack up her clothes and leave the powders in the kitchen. She was done.
Everyone was so excited about Carmen’s premature departure that even Sylvia forgot about Joan. He rang the bell twice before anyone thought to let him in. Sylvia opened the door and said, “Oh! Hi!” and then quickly ushered him into the dining room.
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a little crazy. My brother’s girlfriend just went home.”
Joan slid onto his seat and ran a hand through his hair. “She was too old for him anyway, no?”
“Maybe,” Sylvia said. “But I don’t think that was the problem.”
“So, you liked Blu Nite? It’s a good club, right?” Joan did a little dance, shimmying his shoulders and biting his lower lip.
“It was okay,” Sylvia said, feeling like she was going to be a virgin forever no matter what, and that Joan wouldn’t touch her for a million dollars, because why would he, and that she should just give up. “How about we do irregular past participles?” She opened her workbook. They had only a few more days on the island, and she was starting to feel like it was the end of summer camp. Her pathetic seduction had failed. If it hadn’t happened yet, it wasn’t going to, and so she should just do some work and maybe place out of a few Spanish classes at Brown. She should have packed some makeup, and some high heels, and a whole other personality.
“Okay,” Joan said. He was wearing a pink shirt, and it made his tan skin look like brown sugar covered with honey. “And maybe tomorrow, we have our lesson out? I want to show you the rest of the island, yeah?”
“Okay,” Sylvia said. Her face was on fire instantly, actually burning and painful. She picked up her glass of water and pressed it to one cheek and then the other. “Whatever.”
Jim was still hiding out in the office next door, on the other side of a very thin wall, but Charles didn’t think he could wait any longer. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Lawrence to come out of the bathroom. Lawrence opened the door, his towel slung low around his waist. He absently examined the graying hairs on his chest.
“These are new,” Lawrence said.
“You’re beautiful,” Charles said.
Lawrence raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, my dear. You feeling feverish?”
Charles shook his head, his lower lip stuck out. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? I’m not the one you punched in the face.” Lawrence took off his towel and swung it onto the bed. He opened the drawer with their underwear in it, and took out a clean pair.
“Not that.” Charles loved watching Lawrence get dressed. It was always the same—underwear first, then a shirt, then socks, then pants. He pulled his socks all the way up, even in the summertime, though his spindly calves could never keep them there. Lawrence’s hair was wet and nearly black, and fell neatly along his part—Charles missed having hair, though it was better that Lawrence did, anyway. That way, Charles always had something lovely to look at. “I just wanted to tell you something. I mean, I want to tell you something.”
“Go ahead.” Lawrence still wasn’t paying much attention. He sat down on the bed next to Charles in order to put on his socks.
“Just, you know, in light of all this new information.” Charles stuttered on the word information.
The stuttering made Lawrence pay attention. “Mm-hmm.”
“Before I say anything, I just want to say how much I love you, and how much I want us to have a family together, or not, whatever the universe decides. But I love you, and you’re my husband, my only husband, forever, okay?” Charles shifted in his seat, and pulled Lawrence’s damp towel onto his lap, stroking it like a dog.
“You’re actually scaring me.” Lawrence crossed and uncrossed his legs. “Just spit it out.”
“It was a really long time ago,” Charles said. “Like, a hundred years. You and I were just starting to get serious.”
“Was this before or after we got married?”
“Before, before!”
“Are you about to tell me about that idiot kid, the bohunk art handler from the gallery?”
Charles looked up from the towel, tears in his eyes. He nodded. “I’m so sorry, my love, it was so stupid. I mean, it was the definition of stupid.”