I have a great summer. I get a paid internship at a big finance company in New York. I work in the Financial district and live with my aunt and uncle in Bushwick. To people like Andy and Ash, I don't make that much money, but it's at least double what I made working at the pool supply store. I love working in the city. I feel like anything is possible. Like anything could happen. I feel like finally, finally, my real life is about to start.
Andy spends six weeks of summer in Florence, taking a summer class with an Italian artist he admires. He comes back halfway through July and spends the rest of the summer in Montauk with his family, at their beach house. For the last month of the vacation, he invites me to spend the weekends with them.
Over the years, I've got to know the Montgomery's. I've been skiing with them and I've spent the odd weekend at their home in the West Village. I haven't been to the beach house before, but I have a pretty good idea of what to expect, before I get there.
I get called into a meeting and leave work later than I was planning to, so I insist on taking an Uber, so as not to interrupt dinner. Dinner at the Montgomery's shouldn't be interrupted, no matter what. Mrs Montgomery swings open the front door. She looks immaculate. She never looks anything less. She's wearing a white kaftan with an intricate royal blue design on it. Her hair is long and dark and falls in graceful waves over one shoulder. There's not a hair out of place. Her hair wouldn't dare. She is the type of woman who looks a good ten years younger than she is. She looks well preserved, though I can't spot a single sign that she's had any work done. She's a magnificent woman. Andy looks like her. He has her eyes and her nose, and he holds himself the same way she does.
He comes bounding down the stairs when he hears the doorbell. I hear his footsteps and when the door opens, I see him coming down the spiral staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. He's bare foot and he's wearing khaki shorts and a white linen shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. The collar is unbuttoned a button or two more than usual. It hangs open at his neck, giving me a little more of a glimpse of his chest than I need.
"Andyyy." I say.
He puts his hand out to greet me, but I slap it away playfully, opening my arms instead. He smiles and hugs me, softening in my arms for a second. Sometimes he does that. Sometimes, he doesn't.
"West, we're so glad you could make it." Says Mrs Montgomery, offering me her cheek. "Are you sure I can't get Francesca to fix you something to eat?"
"No, thanks, Mrs Montgomery, I ate before I left. I'm sorry I'm late."
"It's no problem at all. Well, why don't you get settled in and then we'll have a digestif?"
We greet his dad. His dad is tall, like him. His hair is silver grey, and he has piercing blue eyes. He's wearing a white shirt and chinos. He wears them well. I'm always a little interested in dad's, given I don't have one myself. Andy's dad raises more questions than answers. He seems to spend most of his time alone. He's seems to be in a world of his own. He's a well-known neurosurgeon. He seems a little stressed, a lot of the time. Mrs Montgomery is the type of woman you'd have to be mentally insane to cross, but I get the feeling Mr Montgomery has crossed her. I get the feeling he's crossed her more than once. Andy's never said anything about it to me. He hardly ever talks about his dad. It's just a feeling I get from the way the whole family treats him.
Andy shows me round. The house looks like something out of a magazine. Lime washed oak flooring throughout, and every inch of fabric in the whole house is white. The curtains, the linen and the sofas, all white. Brilliant, bright white. You'd have to be crazy to drink a glass of red wine in this house.
"Sorry about all this." Andy mutters under his breath, waving in the general direction of the house.
I'm wearing grey pants and a black work shirt and feel very out of place, "Did I miss the memo about a dress code?" I tease.
He shakes his head, looking a little uncomfortable, "'Course not, you're fine."
Still, I feel a little awkward. This house couldn't be more different from my own home. My home is colourful. Nothing matches specifically, but to me, it just all seems to go together. This house is the opposite. Every item in it has been carefully considered. Carefully chosen to give the impression of a relaxed, tranquil seaside abode. Everything about it has been designed to say, "Relax. Take a load off. Put your feet up." You just need to be damned sure your feet are perfectly clean when you do it.
Once I've dropped my bag in my room, we head out on to the back porch. It's dimly lit and swathed in white-washed wicker and candlelit hurricane lamps. Mr Montgomery, Andy and I have a cognac and Mrs Montgomery drinks Scotch. Mrs Montgomery and I make small talk, while Andy and his father listen.
Joss arrives just before we head up to bed. She's wearing a short, tight red dress and her dark hair is wild from the ocean. I guess, she didn't get the memo about wearing white either.
"West," she says, looking disdainfully at her parents, "thank God you're here."
After greeting her, I continue telling everyone about my internship.
"West got a paid internship." Andy interjects.
"That's a big deal, Stanley." Joss says to her father, when he doesn't react as quickly as she deems appropriate.
"Ah," he says, raising his glass to me, "way to go, West. Good for you."
"Are you guys coming to the beach?" Joss asks Andy and me, once we've finished our drinks.
"Uh, nah, it's late. We'll come out tomorrow." Says Andy.
Afterwards, Andy and I head upstairs. He drapes himself over the chaise in the corner of my room. He crosses his legs and leans back. He couldn't look more perfect, if he tried. He's been in the sun. He's more tanned than usual. He has this long, leanness about him that seems more obvious with the tan and all the white around him. He looks like he was made for this place. In fact, the whole space looks as though it was designed around him. As if, it was designed specifically to complement him. He looks entirely at one with the scene.
I tell him about work, and he tells me all about art school.
"How are things with Ash?" He asks. He knows we're on a break.
"The same," I say, "I haven't heard a word from her all summer."
"Have you been seeing anyone else?"
"God no, I'm pretty sure that offer was nothing more than entrapment."
He laughs, "You're not wrong there."
"How about you? Are you seeing anyone?"
