Page 64 of Then Came the Fall
“That’s Manhasset Bay. It leads to the Long Island Sound,” I explain, glancing at Matt.
“Oh my gosh, is that a swimming pool?” Brett exclaims. I remember when I was a child, I felt like anyone with a pool had to have been a millionaire.
“Yup. It’s closed for the season, but it’s pretty nice in the summer. The whole complex shares it.”
“Wow.” Her tiny voice trails off.
“Honey, you’re welcome to come visit anytime you want.” The words escape my mouth just as I realize how improbable that wouldactually be. But Matt doesn’t notice. He just walks along beside us, the corners of his mouth turned up.
Once inside the building, we round the corner to my apartment. I unlock the door and open it. The foyer area spills out to an open-concept living space, featuring a small kitchen with a breakfast bar and a nice-sized living room with a slider leading out to a balcony. There’s a dining table with four chairs set up that’s littered with mail and some of my books. Two bedroom doors with a bathroom door and a linen closet are down a small hallway.
“Two bedrooms?” Matt asks.
I nod.
“How come?”
“I don’t know. Office? Guest room? I got a little greedy when I bought this place. After a whole lifetime of being cramped, I just wanted a bit of extra space. Anyway, please sit, guys. Make yourselves at home. Feel free to hang your coats on the hooks by the door. I’ll be right back.”
I disappear down the hallway. When I return, Matt’s standing by the balcony, studying a framed series of photographs on the wall. Brett stands next to him, looking out the balcony door at the view of the water. I set a stack of large books down on the coffee table with a clumsy thud, making Brett jump.
“Sorry, kiddo. Come check these out,” I offer. “Would either of you like something to drink? A snack, maybe?”
Matt and Brett shake their heads no. Brett sinks into the couch next to me, kicking off her sneakers and pulling her feet up underneath her. Matt follows her and sits on the other side of Brett. Directly across from us is my favorite thing about the condo, an electric fireplace with a faux-stone front that looks real, topped by a mantle made of reclaimed old barn wood. I notice Matt checking out the lineup offramed photographs, including an old family photo of me and my parents, one of me and my mom from when I was a baby, and one with my Aunt Lucy. There’s a picture of me and Jess, and then, at the end of the mantle, sits our jar, filled to the brim with beach glass, and a photo of the two of us taken during our first summer as an official couple. It’s one of my favorites, and I can tell from Matt’s expression that he’s touched to see it there.
“Check these out,” I suggest, passing two of the books over to Matt. I place the biggest one on Brett’s lap and open it.
“Sound Hollow memories,” Matt reads. “A scrapbook?” he asks.
I smile, nodding. I spent hours working on these books at the end of each summer. I’d visit the pharmacy, trade in my Kodak disposable cameras for photographs, and spread them out all over my bedroom floor, listening to mix tapes of summer tunes while handcrafting headings and captions to accompany the pictures and mementos before taping them into the pages of the book.
“How come I’ve never seen these before?” Matt wonders.
“They’re big. I never thought to bring them to your house when we were kids. I couldn’t exactly schlep them on the train.”
“Oh, my God. Look how little you were,” he swoons, looking at the cabin picture of my bunk my first year there. In the photo, I’m seated right in the middle of the bench of girls, the runt of the litter, with crooked bangs and a front tooth missing. There are a few other pictures of those early years, including one of Matt and me taken at the farm during our first summer together, albeit with a large group of boys, all swinging from the apple trees like a pack of chimpanzees. There’s an old, laminated grace card tucked between the pages, which slides out onto the couch. Brett picks it up.
“What’s this?” she asks, holding it up.
“Wow. It’s been so long since I’ve seen one of these,” Matt says. He goes on to explain that before meals, all the place settings at every table in the Lodge were set with a grace card on the plate. There were nine graces in total, each one a short verse of no more than eight lines, and the camp director would begin each meal by calling out a grace number that the entire camp would sing together. The fan favorite was grace number six,Johnny Appleseed, which went on longer than the others but was upbeat, replete with clapping and banging on the table. Matt’s face grows animated remembering the detail, and I can tell Brett’s hanging on to every word.
“Wait, look here,” I say, flipping to a different page. “This is your dad during a Halloween themed co-ed,” I laugh. “He was trying to be Batman.” Matt had a black garbage bag tied around his shoulders over an old Batman T-shirt. He was wearing a black mask over his eyes that he made out of a painted paper plate and a rubber band, and he’s giving the camera a big thumbs up.
“What’s a co-ed?” Brett asks.
“It’s like a boy-girl dance,” I explain. “It was a big deal at camp, because the boys and girls lived on opposite sides of a forest, and co-eds were a chance to see each other.”
“And dance?”
“Yup. It was a lot of fun.”
“Daddy doesn’t dance,” Brett comments, smirking at him.
“He used to! He would dance with me at every co-ed.”
“Really?”
“Mm hmm,” I confirm. “And he wasn’t half-bad.”
