HANGDOG

     At five she hurried down to the café—he wasn’t there yet—so she ordered Fanta and sat and talked to Dr. John. After a while he began directing his comments to a couple of young women at the neighboring table who were speaking in German, and soon he’d invited them to their table. He was charming; they were charmed. Eventually she got up and left him to his new conquests, wondering what could have happened to Terry.

     She walked along the beach, then went back to the café. He still hadn’t come. Dr. John was gone, and she sat alone waiting for a long time. Finally she headed off down the street that bordered the ocean; if they were coming back from the lighthouse, she would meet them on the way. She was passing the second cove with its little shops displaying baskets of fruits and vegetables when she noticed a yacht anchored a ways off shore. It was close enough so she could hear some of the voices, and, straining her eyes, she even began to recognize some of the revelers. She saw Aaron first, then Victoria, then Terry. Not knowing what to do, she paced back and forth along the shore, started for home once, then came back and, standing on the point, began to holler. Someone on board recognized her and pushed off in a dinghy. When she came on board she found Terry singing drunkenly, Victoria behind him, draping her arms over him possessively.

     “What happened about the dinner?” Seely asked.

     “Oh, Alana thought we should have it tomorrow night instead,” he said, a little shame-faced. “Here, come on over and sing with me,” he added expansively, making room for her on the bench.

     She swallowed and shook her head. He shrugged, again hangdog. The bottle went around and the carousing continued, while she sat, not participating but trying to look unfazed. He would have let her walk all the way to the lighthouse—an hour and a half round trip—she realized, only to find he wasn’t there. And the fact that it was Alana’s preference and not his commitment to her that mattered to him made her even more sober. She remembered him telling her he “adored” Alana, and now began to suspect that if Alana hadn’t been with Aaron, she was the one he would have wooed. “Why do you always have to be so serious?” Susie chided her supercilliously. Which reminded her of Dr. John’s account of how Susie and Gwen’s boyfriend had gone home to have sex together, leaving Gwen behind at a bar—a story she’d taken with a grain of salt at the time.

     Half an hour later it was suddenly decided to go ashore. Everyone piled into two dinghies and a motorboat. Terry sat down next to her in a dinghy, but they’d barely set off when he announced he was going to swim…and, more tumbling than diving, he flopped into the water. He arrived on shore just after the boat and followed her up the slope, towards Jean-Michel’s.

     “Hey,” he reiterated, “I’m sorry about the dinner, but Alana thought we should have it tomorrow night.”

     “Alana?” she said angrily.

     “We could still go out to dinner tonight,” he suggested.

     “No,” she said.

     “Well, I’ll look for you tomorrow,”

     “Don’t bother,” she said evenly. And she walked away from him up the hill.