Hilary Thayer Hamann by Anthropology of an American Girl

Author:Anthropology of an American Girl [Girl, Anthropology of an American]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-58836-938-3
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-06-14T05:00:00+00:00

“You waltzed right past me.” It was Rob, bending for a kiss. “I’m playing volleyball.”

“What are you doing here? It’s Tuesday. Don’t you have work?”

“I came out this morning. I told everybody I had jury duty. Come on over.”

I shaded my eyes. There were a lot of people. “I’ll just wait here.”

“Come over.” He gestured with my book as we walked, slapping it twice in his palm. “Good book,” he said. “Brett Ashley, that’s you.” He spread my towel near his, by the net.

“Hey, Rob,” one of the guys called. “Sometime this century.”

“Keep your shorts on,” he barked back, then he put his cap on my head, adjusting it until it was low near the bridge of my sunglasses. “Red Sox,” he said. “Don’t lose it.”

My bike just about fit into the trunk of the Cougar, and Rob threaded his tank top through the metal coupling and tied a knot to hold it in. He had white surgical tape around his wrist. I could not see his tattoo from where I sat because it was on his left bicep and he was driving. It was a lightning bolt through the word Zeus. At the carnival that time, Rob told Laura Lasser that Zeus came down to fertilize the earth. He peered into her blushing face. “You know what I’m talking about, to fertilize, right?”

We dropped the bike at the house and left a note for Rourke to meet us, then we grabbed some pizza and ate it on the hood of the car, watching the mellow defervescence of day. In the waning heat, the village seemed a place of endless possibilities. Everyone waved like they knew us.

“That’s because they do,” Rob said. “Everybody knows you.”

On the way down Old Montauk Highway to Surfside, I was thinking that life is like being born into a prison that is you, and there comes one opportunity to escape, one second when everything coalesces into something like perfect timing, and you dash, or you don’t. Maybe everyone gets a chance to run, but not everyone goes for it. That summer I had the feeling of being on the outside, of having crossed over. I was thinking about that, and about bravery and identities that are original, about my grandparents getting on boats alone and coming to America. I was thinking of opportunities my father never had, and whether my mother had wanted me. If my mother hadn’t wanted me, she must have felt bad about that, over time, through the years. And I was thinking of Rourke, how he could not be possessed, how I loved him for it. I wanted to ask Rob. I had the feeling Rob would have something to say about releasing things you love.

“Today’s my birthday,” he said as I reached for the door handle.

“Oh,” I said, turning back in. “Happy birthday, Rob.” I reached to kiss him, leaning far because he was still at the wheel. It was nice that he wanted to spend it with me.

Surfside was

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