〃You ever up for tennis？〃 Jimmy asked。
〃Not really。〃
〃I can teach you if you like。 It would be fun to play a doubles match one day。 Early； before it's too hot。 You； me； Jenna； and maybe you could find a friend to bring。 We could have a good match。 It's always fun to play doubles；〃
Jimmy said。 Owen noticed the bination of arrogance and nonchalance； as if none of this mattered。 Even this small talk was something to fill some empty space。 Jimmy probably screwed Jenna on a nightly basis。 But he never thought about Owen； or Owen and Jenna。 He probably lived in the moment。
pletely。
〃Saturday should be fun；〃 Jimmy said； wiping the last of the spray from his shoulders as he pushed his feet into the cheapest sneakers that Owen had ever seen。 〃You bringing a date？〃
Owen glanced up。 〃Her birthday？〃
〃Yeah； you know； the whole crowd's ing from the Cape； and then we'll just do tequila shots til dawn。 You got a girl off…island？〃
Owen began to lie； just to fill that emptiness between them。 Yes； he had a girl。 Yes； he was excited about Jenna's birthday party； even though he had not been invited to it。 Yes； he was considering his options as to which colleges he was looking into … Middlebury looked promising； he didn't think he had quite the grades for Harvard； but his uncle had been a Dean at Middlebury； and yes； they could all go skiing in the winter up there in some distant holiday。
The whole time； Jimmy reached into his shaving kit； went over to shave at the mirror； and then applied some kind of lotion to his face。 He finished it off with a spritz of the most obnoxious cologne that Owen had ever smelled。 While they small…talked it； Owen knew； standing there in the diminishing steam of the changing room； he knew。
Owen knew just by standing there with Jimmy in the shimmering mist。
Jimmy had a weakness。
He began spending time； after that； thinking about that weakness。
Thinking about how he could get Jenna back。
3
Owen's shift at the Salty Dog began at three and lasted until eleven； six days a week。 He emerged sweaty and stinking of grease； because half his job was cleaning out the fryers and grease pits at the end of the night； and when he got off shift in early July … it was nearly two a。m。 … he went down to the jetty to stare out at the early morning mist of the Sound； smoke some cigarettes； and chill。
He didn't turn around when he heard the footsteps ing up behind him。
〃Mooncalf。〃
〃Hey Jimmy。〃
〃Got a cig？〃
〃Take one；〃 Owen tossed a cigarette back。
〃Thanks。 I guess you want to be alone。〃
〃Didn't know you smoked。〃
〃I don't。 Not when anyone looks； anyway。〃
〃That's nice。 Anything else you do when no one's looking？〃
〃If I told； you'd know my secrets。〃
〃How's Jenna？〃
〃She's okay。 She fell asleep early。 I just needed to wander a little。 How's the job？〃
〃Good。 You can smell it on me。 You wander late。 It's almost morning。〃
〃In Manhattan； I wander at all hours。 I like this time of night。 I kind of miss work。 I used to work summers in one of my dad's stores。 It was fun sometimes。〃
〃Seems like more fun to run around the island all summer。 Like you two。〃
〃It gets old。 I take that back。 Yeah； it's fun。 I guess you want to be left alone。〃
〃You guessed right；〃 Owen said； cricking his neck to the left a bit。
〃Your neck hurt？〃
〃It gets stiff。 Leaning over a mop half the time。 On my knees cleaning up all kinds of shit。〃
〃Here；〃 Jimmy said； and Owen felt hands at the back of his neck； gently massaging。 〃Better？〃
Owen let him continue。 〃This fog depresses me。〃
〃I think it's peaceful。〃
〃You would。〃
〃Mooncalf； you hate me； don't you？〃
〃Not really。〃
〃How does this feel？〃 Jimmy pressed his thumbs into Owen's shoulders。
〃Oh yeah；〃 Owen said。 〃Right there。〃
4
Before dawn； he had gone to the pond。 He knelt down beside it； and reached down among the algae and slimy rocks until he found it。
He drew the statue up； and set it down on the wet grass。
〃I guess you're just made up；〃 he said aloud。 〃I guess I'm just a screwed up guy who made you up。 Maybe when I was twelve I was warped。 But you're just some cheap souvenir someone lost。 No one believes in gods。〃
But still； the itchy thought touched him somewhere between his eyes and scalp … he could practically feel the fire crawling on him。
But if you're not。
If you're real。
I'll do what needs to be done。
5
Mrs。 M； in her own words：
Here's what I thought of it all： my daughter Jenna had been trouble from the day she was born。 She was pretty and plain at the same time； and I say that as a loving mother。 She inherited her father's face； not much of mine； although I guess she got my eyes。 Lucky her … my least favorite feature since my own mother always told me I had sad eyes。 When Jenna was four years old； she told me that no man was going to do to her what her Daddy did to me。
Definitely wise beyond her years； but just not special enough to handle what life would deliver to her； that's for damn sure。
It was her trust fund。 It made her trouble。
Look； there's something that everyone pussyfoots around but no one ever talks about。 That's money。 Pure and simple。 Money。 When a girl has some； she can be elevated to the status of goddess。 The most ordinary … even homely … creature can bee ravishing with just a portfolio or a trust fund。
That island … in summer … is full of trust fund widows who should by all rights be considered blemishes； but instead are constantly sought out for parties and gatherings and literary events。 For Jenna； there's always been money。 And I've watched it feed her in a way that can't be healthy； but what could I do？
She has access to money。 Lots of money。 Money clothes her。
She was ruined because of it； basically。 She could never learn how to survive。 She could never learn how to rely on herself and her own character to get through a difficult or challenging situation。
She could always buy her way out of things。
This isn't true of me。 I was raised solidly middle…class。 My father had died when I was six； and my mother didn't have too many options； not back then。 In many ways； I feel for Owen because of this。 His life is a lot like mine was as a child。 Yes； there was some inheritance later for me； but when you spend most of your childhood wanting things you never really get over it。
And money bees a prison； too。 When you know what it's like to live without it； and when it's within your grasp； then you know what it's like to not have it。
So； you cling to it。 Pure and simple。 You hang on for dear life。
I suppose people will say things about my marriage to Frank that reflect this； but my marriage is a different kettle of fish。 We've got our way of living； and yes； you can assail it all you want； but it works for us nine times out of ten； and those times when it doesn't quite work； well； we have places to go where he can live his life and I can live mine； and the breather is well…needed。 On both our parts。
I'm not the easiest woman in the world to live with。
And he's no saint。
I sat down with my little girl when she was just learning about sex； and I told her that men have different ways of dealing with love； and usually it's through the one part of their body that seems to cause others the most damage。
〃But it's just his body；〃 I told her。 She cried over all of this。 She cried when she found out her father had another woman。 A mistress。 But you have to cry at first； don't you？ To get all those little fairy tales out of your head about how life gets lived； about how there are a few good men； how some men don't cheat。
And it's not true。 All men cheat； and all women marry cheaters； and to not look at that square in the face is like not looking at the good side of marriage； too。
So she cried off and on for a few years； and I held her sometimes； I was cold to her at times … I knew she needed to work this idea out in her mind。
When she fell in love for the first time； she told me that she was grateful for what she'd had to go through with her father。 〃I don't know why men do what they do；〃 she told me。
〃If you did； you'd have solved the greatest mystery of life；〃 I said to her。
Or something like that。
But for m