The History of Great Things by Elizabeth Crane Page B

father’s handouts, your mother’s loans always come due. So the plan is modified. Nina convinces her parents to let you stay with them for the summer, so the revised plan is that you’ll get a waitressing job. You have experience, but one after another of the more upscale restaurants turns you down (you are not big on putting on so much as a decent blouse and slacks for these interviews, figuring that if they like you they like you), and you turn one offer down when it’s suggested that the shorter your skirt, the better the tips. You’re finally hired as a server at one of the diveyer bar/restaurants in town, the kind that smells like beach and stale beer and serves burgers to people without shoes. Good enough. You get to tell me you were right: someone has hired you for who you are, in a T-shirt and a ratty jean skirt. Bonus: you can wear that same costume to work, you don’t even have to pull your hair into a ponytail, and you get a meal before every shift and a free pitcher of beer after you cash out.
    For a few weeks, everything about this is fantastic. That Fire Island has no streets, and no vehicles bigger than a golf cart, makes it ideal, at least to begin with. By day, you lay out at the beach in a slick of baby oil and a string bikini, flirting with the lifeguards; by night you flirt with the bartender and the guy who sits at the door. You and Nina are both single at the same time (or, more accurately, Nina is currently as single as you always are), and she usually meets you in town after you get off work to hang out with friends, find other boys to flirt with, maybe go dancing. You’re not saving a ton of your tips, but your back rent slowly gets paid down. You and Nina fantasize about living there year-round, writing novels about your mothers. You both know that the fantasy is very different from the reality: winters on Fire Island are bitterly cold, transportation on and off the island is limited, but the main thing is that very few people live there all year. The plan is to get boyfriends who would also live there with you to offset the need for other human contact. Nina sets this plan into motion as soon as you discuss it—not that it wasn’t already in motion, at least to the extent that Nina israrely without a boyfriend. You set your eyes on a pair of brothers who already live there year-round. You’ve always liked the younger one, who has curly brown hair and dimples and some amazing dance moves. Really, his amazing dance moves are all that matter, until he asks you to dance one night and tells you you’re a good dancer. This fast-tracks him into being a candidate for The One. Nina hasn’t come out this night; she’s out on a date with the guy who runs the produce market. Back at home you discuss your evenings: her date was a dud (she only went because she doesn’t like to hurt people’s feelings and couldn’t think up an excuse fast enough when he asked); there’s only so much to say about cucumbers, as far as Nina is concerned, but no, there are many different varieties, plus Cucumbers can become all different kinds of pickles , as Nina learned over the course of her two-hour dinner. You, however, are really digging that cute younger brother. You’re both excited about the brother plan, but Nina will have to get to work on the older brother ASAP.
    The next day, you’re on the lunch shift. Lunches are usually kind of slow and you’re always bummed to miss a sunny afternoon at the beach, especially for a crummy haul of tips. Nina’s home on the back deck working on her tan and her novel. You’re not too concerned about her getting ahead on that part of the plan for now; you’re having too much fun. You’ve got plenty of ideas, you’re just storing them up. Right now you’re living life .
    You’re pulling your bike up to the Solomons’ house and cute younger brother is just leaving. He says Oh hey!