At the Water's Edge Read Online Free Page A

she’s getting at, but when she points her thumb in the direction of the fire, I understand she’s referring to the smell of smoke and ashes that will penetrate the fabric of my blazer.
    “Oh, it’s fine.” I scan the people gathered around the fire, bottles of beers and plastic cups of wine in their hands, for familiar faces. In the pale-orange light of the flames, the only person I recognize is Uncle Pete.
    “Here, take mine.” Kay starts unzipping her hoodie, revealing a powder-blue v-neck t-shirt clinging to her chest. “I’ll take your fancy jacket inside.”
    Our eyes meet and in the instant of hesitation that comes next, as if following a command, I slip out of my blazer and hand it to her.
    While she saunters to the lodge behind the shop, I let the cozy fleece—warmed up by Kay’s body heat—envelop me, and a faint whiff of her scent wafts up into my nostrils. It’s not perfume, but an unexpectedly flowery soap, an unmistakable summer smell that takes me back to way before all of this began.
    Silently, I look around me again, at these strangers with their children, their own stories safely tucked away behind the masks of their—mostly—carefree faces.
    When Kay returns, in a navy sweater with the West Waters logo displayed on her chest, I know the warm glow that spreads through me at the sight of her isn’t only due to the growing fire. But, this moment, too, will pass. This fleeting second of being at peace with things. It always does.
    “Ella Goodman?” From behind me, a beer-drenched voice calls my name. “Is that you?”
    I turn and stare straight into Drew Hester’s pudgy, red-nosed, loose-skinned face. I remember my mother’s glee when she found out I was dating one of the Hester boys. To this day, I’m still not sure if it was because Drew’s father, Bruce, owned half of the land in Northville, or because, even at sixteen—quite some time before I worked up the nerve to tell her—Mom had her suspicions about me.
    “Drew. Wow,” I sputter.
    Kay pushes a bottle of cold beer into my hand and I eagerly accept it, locking my eyes with hers for a moment.
    “What brings you to these parts?” My teenage romance with Drew was short-lived, restricted to a few sloppy kisses and unsuccessful groping sessions behind the town hall.
    “Family.” I say it in the tone I use when one of my students is acting up during a Friday late afternoon class.
    “Hey.” He slants his long body in my direction, his beer breath slamming into my face. “Is it true what I hear? Is that why you dumped me all these years ago?” He narrows his eyes as though he just reached an important conclusion with the few remaining brain cells operating his mind. “Oh, I see.” He looks at me, then turns his head to Kay, and back. “Oh, yes.”
    His bloodshot eyes rest on me. For all the battles I’ve fought with myself, my sexual identity has never been much of an issue. But the way he alludes to Kay’s stuns me into silence nonetheless.
    “That’s enough, big guy.” Kay steps in—literally blocking my body with hers.
    “Didn’t mean to offend.” Drew holds up his hands. “Let’s catch up before you leave, Ella.” With a drunken man’s swagger—ridiculous and wobbly—he turns and disappears into the darkness.
    “Don’t mind him. He doesn’t get out much.” Kay’s voice is soothing and apologetic. “If and when he does,” she shrugs, “well…”
    But I don’t care about Drew and his ignorant questions. I want to ask her, but don’t immediately know how without coming across just as rude as Drew.
    Surely I would have heard about it if Kay were a lesbian like me. After I came out, despite my mother’s urging to keep ‘my news’ quiet—a wish I obeyed not because she wanted it that way, but because I wasn’t exactly keen on becoming the talk of the town either—rumors started cropping up almost immediately. Halted whispers when I went into the butcher’s. Hushed voices at The Attic, not just