Chapter 7

September 17, 2007
Boston, Massachusetts

Julie awoke with a start as the plane bounced on the landing strip, amazed that she had slept through the entire three-hour flight. Around her, passengers unclipped their seat belts and opened the overhead bins, but Julie remained seated, concentrating on details long past, reluctant to let go. Despite her effort, most of her dream slipped away.

Eager now to see Pete and Joan, Julie waited impatiently with the crowd exiting the plane, and then made her way quickly through the airport, boarding the bus to Hertz. As she drove along Route 1 North toward their house in Salem, she thought back to the last time she saw Marc and David. She had gone down to Key West to visit them.

It was a celebration, Julie recalled. They had gone with Susan Dwyer, Marc’s agent, to Mallory Square for the Sunset Party. Later, they had closed up the Hog’s Breath Saloon. Julie focused on their conversation. Marc was getting bombed, she remembered, smiling. He was talkative, exultant…

“I finally did it, didn’t I? I’m so excited! Rave reviews in the Globe and the Herald. Did I tell you I sold several big pieces?”

“Yes! I’m so happy for you, Marc.”

“You know the best part of it? The show was in Boston, right under their noses.”

“Whose noses?” she asked, laughing.

Marc’s demeanor suddenly darkened.

“Dear old Dad and Evil Av.”

Julie was confused.

“Avram? Your brother?”

Susan interrupted.

“C’mon, Marc. He’s not that bad. He makes sure you get your check every month.”

Julie was taken aback by Marc’s reaction; he flared at Susan.

“It’s not from him!”

Susan just sat there, stunned into silence. It was an embarrassing moment.

Marc, drunk as he was, realized he was out of line. He immediately quelled his anger. He waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, the hell with Av,” he said, putting his arm around her. “If we can agree on some stuff, Susan is going to get me a show in New York!”

Julie couldn’t remember talking about Avram again that weekend. Surprisingly, Marc and David had been planning a trip to Castle Cay in the Bahamas. They’d talked about it a lot, but Julie didn’t remember one word of that.

Castle Cay.

Did I deliberately tune that part out?

The mere thought of the place literally stopped her cold. She pulled off the road near a quiet intersection and sat there, nauseous.

A cold, familiar sweat crept across the nape of her neck and she shivered. Why would Marc go to that cursed island? Julie had trained herself to quickly cut off thoughts of Castle Cay when they surfaced. She struggled to bring herself back to the present.

Pete and Joan. They’re waiting for me. Where the hell am I?

She pulled out her cell phone and called the Soldanos. Their house was “ten minutes away”; they told her to “continue on the exit road, north to the river”.

Julie kept the river on her left as directed, driving slowly, squinting at each street sign on the right. The area was heavily wooded, and it was growing dark and difficult to see. She didn’t want to have to turn around on the narrow, two-lane street, which was edged on the left with nothing more than a tiny rock wall and some birch trees above the riverbank.

At last she saw it, an oval sign on her right, rimmed in gold:

Drake Hill

She turned right up a steep grade and immediately saw their house, ablaze with lights. Like the other five houses on the short street, it was nicely landscaped and set among the large, granite boulders of the hill. They were waiting for her outside. She got out of the car and they all hugged each other warmly.

“Look at you two, you’ve hardly changed.” They’re a matched set, Julie thought - not for the first time - about her friends who looked more like a brother and sister. Dark haired and a few inches shorter than she, Pete and Joan were fitness fanatics who walked and biked daily. They were beach-lovers, too, and deeply tanned. Julie could see some craggy lines on Pete’s face and his hair had thinned some, but not a strand was gray. Julie thought he looked great. And as for Joan…she was as pretty as ever.

“Your house is beautiful. I love the way the homes are built around the boulders. We don’t have anything like this in Orlando.”

“Yeah, it’s nice here. We built the place,” said Pete with pride.

“Julie, I made a dinner reservation for eight o’clock,” said Joan. “We’re going to have to leave right away if we want to make it, you know? Pete, why don’t you take her bags inside the house.”

“No problem,” said Julie quickly. “Don’t worry about my bag; we can take it in later. Hop in…I’ll drive. Where’re we going?”

“Pickering Wharf,” said Joan.

•

Pulling into the familiar waterfront area was bittersweet for Julie, who remembered going there with Dan. The three ate in a favorite seafood restaurant, and brought each other up to date on their lives.

Julie talked briefly about Orlando and her business and they laughed when she told them about her cat, Sol, and his independent ways. Pete and Joan beamed with pride as they talked about their boys, Pete, Jr. and Paul.

Julie learned that Soloman Chrysler had grown to three locations, and that Pete was now the GM of the Lynn store. They reminisced about the folks they knew who still worked for the company.

But the tragedy in Key West couldn’t be pushed into the background for long. Joan was the one who finally went where no one wanted to go.

“Was Marc terminal, Julie?”

Julie sighed.

“Yes, he was, in the sense that AIDS isn’t curable. But was death imminent? No it wasn’t, Joan. He looked good when I saw him. He was happy.”

“We went to his show on Newbury Street,” said Joan. “I loved Marc’s paintings… especially the Castle Cay ones, you know?”

Pete interrupted his wife.

“The ol’ man, Milton? He didn’ go, y’know,” he said, fuming. “Can you believe that? He’s one stubborn son-of-a-bitch!”

“Pete,” shushed Joan, her hand on his arm. “Keep your voice down.”

“Sorry. It just gets me mad. Marc never deserved to be treated the way the ol’ man treated him. When Miriam died, Milt and Avram both acted like Marc didn’ exist.”

“Avram did go to the art show, Pete.”

“Did you talk to him?” asked Julie.

“No,” said Pete, “He was with some dame.”

“Maybe Avram’s finally ready to settle down,” said Joan.

“Yeah, right,” said Pete.

On that note, he peeled off a tip for the waitress, and they left for home.

•

The day’s measure of grief and travel had taken their toll. Julie sank into the sofa-bed in the guestroom, pulling the blankets up to her neck against the chilly air. She missed Marc terribly and fell asleep remembering another time….

* * * * *