Things Polly had seen, without really seeing: the way Papa touched Dee, the way her parents danced, Ivor teasing Rita with a glass, the things on Papa’s desk that didn’t glitter, objects that were subtler but still strange—a small hammer, a ruler, a collection of eyeglasses, a stone bird’s foot, a ribbon with a lock of dark hair, a quote from Hart Crane that he’d copied out in his European hand: Because it is bitter, and it is my heart.

And one man wading out of the Sound, after two had gone out in a boat. Polly didn’t think he’d asked the people in the kitchen to be quiet when he drove them home. That was their decision.

She peered around the corner—Ned’s light was on, but he was asleep with the cookbook on his chest.

The last version of the story of Asta: Papa sidestepped violence for almost thirty years, but when a man offers his throat to you, you fall back to the habit of revenge. You know how to do it; you know you’re good at it. The men in the boat rowed out over the still water, speaking quietly, knowing incrementally what was about to happen. For Ivor Dewitt, disbelief, because why should he have worried about getting into a boat with an ancient academic? Ivor couldn’t have imagined that this old, old man would row them out of sight, knock him into the water with an oar, and hold him under until he drowned.

Polly typed in Papa’s name, wondering why she’d never done this before, and when she finished reading his obituary, she went to wake Ned. They’d already really known. They just hadn’t understood that the man Papa killed was Jane’s father, Polly’s grandfather.

16. The End of the World, 1968

16

The End of the World, 1968

The afternoon after the party, after finding the dead man on the beach, while the uncles, unimpressed with the body, were off seeking lobster, and the aunts were on a walk, and Dee and Papa were having a nap, the police arrived and Jane sent Polly upstairs to fetch Papa.

Papa and Dee always looked serene when they slept. His arm was under her head, and he opened his eyes before Polly could say anything, and put a finger to his lips, and slid away from his wife carefully, so that she didn’t wake. Dee had not been able to get up that morning.