Elin Hilderbrand - Here's to Us

2016

Deacon Thorpe is thirteen years old and still more a boy than a man when his father, Jack, tells Deacon theyre taking a day trip out of the city, just the two of them.

Deacon is intrigued by the idea of a day trip out of the city. They rarely have money for anything other than minute-to-minute survival. Jack works as a line chef at Sardis in Times Square, and he gets only three days off per month.

Deacon is even more excited about the phrase just the two of us. Jack is the king of Deacons world, primarily because he is rarely available. Deacon anticipates time with Jack the way astronomers anticipate a comet or an eclipse.

Jack wakes Deacon at four in the morning. They leave Deacons mother and his sister, Stephanie, asleep in the apartment. At Jacks instruction, Deacon is wearing his swimming trunks, and Jack is wearing a bright-yellow collared shirt that Deacon has never seen before.

Jack plucks at the shirt with a smile of pride. Bought it specially for today, he says.

For the trip, Jack has rented an Oldsmobile Cutlass. Deacon didnt even realize his father knew how to drive. They live in Stuy Town, and if they need to go somewhere-work, school, the park-they take the subway or the bus.

Now this, Jack says, is one classy vehicle.

His father is suddenly full of surprises.

Deacon naps for much of the drive, waking up only as they cross a bridge that looks as though it has been made from a giant erector set. Elton John is on the radio, singing Dont Go Breaking My Heart. Jack sings along, Oh, honey, if I get restless

Where are we? Deacon asks.

Cape Cod, Jack says. Then he sings, Whoa-ho, I gave you my heart!

Cape Cod. It has a mythical ring to it, like Shangri-La.

Jack turns down the radio and says, I want one perfect day with my son. Thats not too much to ask, is it?

By nine oclock, they are sitting on the top deck of a ferry, drinking coffee. Deacon has never been allowed to drink coffee before; his mother believes it will stunt his growth. Jack doesnt seem to think twice about ordering a cup for Deacon. He says, You may want to add some cream and sugar to that, mellow it a little. But Deacon chooses to take it black, like his father. Some of his Jewish friends at school have had their bar mitzvahs, and thats how Deacon is viewing this day trip-as a rite of passage, in which he will learn some things about becoming a man.

The ferry delivers Deacon and Jack to a place called Nantucket Island. Jack insists they stand at the railing as soon as land comes into view. They pass a stone jetty where seals are sunbathing. Real seals! These are the first wild animals Deacon has seen outside a zoo. The ferry cruises into a harbor filled with sleek, elegant power yachts and sailboats with tall masts and elaborate rigging. Gulls circle overhead. Deacon sees two church steeples, one a white spire, one a gold dome, and clusters of gray-shingled buildings.

Jack says, Today we are going to live the life on Nantucket.

On the wharf, Jack rents another car-an army-drab Willys jeep, which is like nothing Deacon has ever seen in the city. It has no top, no windows, no doors, even. It is basically two seats and a gearshift, four tires and a motor. This is not a classy vehicle-its as far from the Cutlass as you can get-but Jack looks happier than Deacon has ever seen him.

Hop in! Jack says. Ill give you the grand tour.

They drive over cobblestone streets, past a general store called Hardys, which has a charcoal grill and a lawn mower in the plate glass window with a male mannequin wearing a collared shirt just like Jacks, standing between the two. Hell cut the grass first, Deacon thinks, then grill up some burgers outside. Its like a scene from The Brady Bunch.

They pass a pizza parlor, then a restaurant called the Opera House.

Jack points at the restaurant. My old stomping ground, he says. Theres a real British phone booth in the dining room, where I used to kiss my French girlfriend, Claire.

Deacon feels himself redden. He cant imagine Jack Thorpe kissing anyone, not even Deacons mother.

They drive out a long road that twists and turns. They pass gray-shingled cottages draped with roses, they pass fields with horses grazing alongside split-rail fences. To the left, Deacon catches glimpses of the blue harbor. The sun is starting to get very hot, and Deacons stomach rumbles. All he has had to drink so far today is the coffee and theres been nothing in the way of food.

A lighthouse comes into view. Its white with a fat, red stripe in the middle. They pass a wide pond; on the other side of the pond, Deacon can see the ocean. Jack takes a left at a sign that says HOICKS HOLLOW.

Good old Hoicks Hollow Road, Jack says. Used to be my home away from home.

It did? Deacon says.

Funny name for a road, isnt it? Jack says.

Deacon doesnt know how to respond.

Funnier than East Twenty-Eighth Street, anyway, Jack says.

They wind around until they reach a place called the Sankaty Head Beach Club. PRIVATE, the sign says. The air smells deliciously of French fries, and Deacon wants to believe they will eat lunch here, but the word private makes him ill at ease. The Thorpes arent a family that belongs anywhere private. Not at all. Deacon figures that in another thirty seconds or so they will be told they are trespassing and will be asked to leave.

But surprisingly, Jack Thorpe is not only welcomed at the door, he is celebrated-by a heavyset, red-faced man wearing a name tag that says Ray Jay Jr., Manager.

Jack Thorpe! Ray Jay Jr. says. God, youre a sight for sore eyes. How long has it been?

Too long, Jack says. He introduces Deacon to Ray Jay Jr. I told Deacon I just want one perfect day with my son. Thats not too much to ask, is it? How about some lunch, for old times sake?

You got it, Jack, Ray Jay Jr. says. He ushers Jack and Deacon into the club. They pass signs that say LADIES LOCKERS and GENTLEMENS LOCKERS. Through a swinging set of Dutch doors with thick, white paint, they emerge outside. Ray Jay Jr. seats them at a table overlooking the swimming pool, which is an alluring lozenge of deep, turquoise water. Along both sides of the pool are cabanas with chaise longues where beautiful women in bikinis work on their suntans and towheaded children lie on navy and white striped towels. Waiters deliver iced teas with wedges of lemon, beers, and fruity cocktails to the chaise longues. At the far end of the pool is a wooden fence draped with red, white, and blue bunting, probably left over from the bicentennial celebration.

Over the loudspeaker, that song, Dont Go Breaking My Heart, is playing again.

Jack holds an imaginary microphone under his chin as he sings along in falsetto. Then, to Deacon, Jack says, You can go ahead and jump in. Ill order for you.

Deacon understands that this was the reason for the swim trunks; he shucks off his T-shirt. He approaches the edge of the pool. A few kids are splashing around in the shallow end while an older gentleman does freestyle laps. The only other swimming pool Deacon has been to is at the community center on Avenue A, where the water is too warm and stinks of chlorine and is always jam packed with shrieking kids and bullies who dunk Deacon, keeping his head under water long enough for him to panic. By comparison, this pool is cool and serene, like a pool in paradise.

One perfect day with my son.