I showed Susan or Mary the yellowed charcoal drawings that I did in Lewis
H.'s class and the series of drawings of his face that I did while he
painted in his summer studio in Wellfleet.
That summer I was meeting him in the house in Wellfleet while his wife
ate seafood salads in a Boston suburb, under the umbrellas in view of
the Golf course at the Country club, and his children took endless
swimming lessons.
You could see the ocean from the second story bedroom where we made
love more than was necessary. (or so it seems now) He said his wife
didn't like sex. I was only 21, and I believed it.
I remember thinking that later in summer they would all be here. Their
books from the previous summer -- Big Red, Black Beauty -- were
scattered around the living room along with drift wood, scallop shells,
toy guns, and Indian drums made from tin cans and rubber.