Chapters (55)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Cast of Characters
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Part Two
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- A note on the Author
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE SAYING,” I sulked, and then, with greater force, “I don’t understand what you’re saying. I want to go back to New York.” Under my breath I added, “You fake WASP motherfucker.”
I hated the wind and the waves. I hated the sun and the sky. I hated the shoes he had made me wear. They were ugly. They were FUNCTIONAL.
“Calm down,” he said. “Calm down.”
For reasons I don’t understand, I did calm down. I opened my eyes and the sun made me laugh. The waves and the wind and the sky made me happy. I liked his little sister’s dorky deck shoes. Reflected in his perfect chest, my petulance bounced over the side of the boat and under the sea.
After a couple of hours, he tied the boat back onto the dock and we spilled into the shallow water: When we got home, we found a note from his mother saying that she had left for a garage sale. After showering off the sand, we crawled back into his schoolboy bed.
Sebastian smelled of brine and raucous good health. His skin was still warm from the sun. The hairs on his arms and the down on his chest were sunbaked to perfection, channeling the spirits of all the happy cats who had ever stretched on windowsills.
“I love you,” I said again, although I didn’t. I just wanted to think of an excuse to explain why I couldn’t stop smiling. We took the train back to the city and when he went home, he took me with him. It was a week before, nervous as a burglar with bells glued to her shoes, I tiptoed back into my own apartment. Gathering a few outfits, moisturizer, deodorant, and my favorite underwear, I hopped a cab back to Sebastian’s, where I already had my own toothbrush waiting by his sink.
Sebastian held my hand when we went out at night. He woke me up with kisses. He bought me presents with money he had earned from me. He only, once or twice, suggested it was perhaps time for me to go back to work, to call my agent back and hit some auditions. I was proud that I was with a beautiful black man. He was proud that he was with a semistar. The longer we spent together, the more the semi started to disintegrate, chopped first to demi, then quasi and finally pseudo. I was happy that way. He less so.