On Fire Island by Jane L. Rosen

Author:Jane L. Rosen [Rosen, Jane L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Women, Friendship, Family Life, General
ISBN: 9780593546116
Google: 8YGEEAAAQBAJ
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2023-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

twenty-two

Bang the Drum Slowly

Matty stood in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher at a volume and with a vengeance usually reserved for passive-aggressively punishing a housework-averse spouse. He dumped the silverware into the drawer in one fell swoop, causing a cacophony of clanking. Renee raced down the stairs, alarmed by the commotion. A look of satisfaction crossed his face. He was obviously aware that the drummer was back and angry at his mother for it. I understood, but personally, I was loving the whole May–December romance. It was my favorite plot twist of the summer, and I had many different endings in mind.

Just as it wasn’t an accident that Renee chose Tuck, it wasn’t an accident that Renee became a divorce attorney. Both choices directly resulted from her childhood. Renee’s mother, like Renee, was prom queen, but unlike Renee, was not crowned most likely to succeed. In fact, when Renee won both titles her senior year of high school, her mother went on and on, bragging about the first, with little mention of the second. For Renee it summed up everything that was wrong with her mother. She vowed not to end up like her.

Renee’s mother’s definition of success was to marry well, and that had been her own number one goal in college. After a grand total of six dates with Renee’s dad, she became pregnant. She swore it wasn’t her intention, but she also swore that she was a natural redhead—so there was that. She dropped out of school, married, and had Renee.

By the time Renee was old enough to know what was going on, it became quite clear that her dad was not faithful to her mom. While it was obvious to Renee, her mom seemed oblivious. Her life revolved around her weekly activities: mah-jongg on Mondays, tennis on Tuesdays, a manicure on Wednesdays, volunteering at the Scarsdale Historical Society on Thursdays, and her weekly hair appointment on Fridays. Renee had never seen her mother with wet hair, aside from when she had accompanied her to the beauty salon—where it was washed, coiffed to perfection, and shellacked to last the week. When they visited their summer home on Fire Island, her Pucci kerchief remained in place for the entire ferry ride and most of the weekend. Much like my own mother.

Sometime during Renee’s junior year of high school, she and her mom set out on a college tour. As usual, Renee was beyond prepared. She had mapped out every liberal arts school on the eastern seaboard that matched her criteria, set up interviews at all of her top choices, and created a folder filled with directions, schedules, and which questions to ask at which schools in order to stand out. Just before they got to the parkway, she realized she had left the whole thing at home. Her mom didn’t want to go back, but Renee had insisted. When she ran upstairs to grab the prized folder, she passed by her parents’ open bedroom door and froze. Inside, her father was screwing her mother’s best friend, their neighbor, Judy Skylar, doggy style.

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