There were things people didn’t know about me, secrets hidden deep inside. I wasn’t perfect. No one was, at least no one I knew. My destiny it seemed, was mediocrity although I fought it every step of the way. I tried not to compare myself, but it was hard to avoid. After all, I was only human.

The summer of 1980, before starting college, I landed a job as a nanny working for a divorcee. She had rented a house on an island off the coast of Connecticut. The woman was a friend of my mother’s and had two daughters—one was eight, the other ten. The mother had told me during the interview that I would be alone on weekdays and she would come from the city on the weekends. The girls were sweet, especially the younger of the two and I was excited to be in charge.

“You have your license, don’t you?” Mrs. Heim asked. She exuded nervous energy with extreme glamour. Her figure fascinated me since I lacked hourglass curves. My body resembled more a toothpick than a pear. Her full lips were coated in red lipstick some of which had wandered onto her front teeth. It was difficult to picture her at the beach or wearing casual attire.

“Yes,” I said. “I can drive quite well.”  Since I’d attended boarding school, I hadn’t driven much. It seemed okay to stretch the truth because I wanted the job.

“Fantastic,” she said. “I have a Volvo for you to use all summer. You’ll need it to take the girls to camp, pick them up, get groceries and such.” Mrs. Heim pressed her large, black-framed sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “No boys, parties, or anything like that.” She examined her manicure. “I’m sure you understand.” Then her demeanor switched like a tail light blinker. “You’re going to have a lot of fun this summer!”

I took notes during my interview to appear more professional. The word fun written in upper case which I promptly doodled flowers around. Mrs. Heim offered me the job and asked me to start on Friday. We would have the weekend together to review the schedule, and then I’d be on my own.

With a duffle bag full of summer clothes, I caught the train from Long Island to the city to meet Mrs. Heim and her daughters at their apartment on Park Avenue. We would then drive to the ferry which would take us to the island. Since I had never visited Fisher’s Island, I had no idea what to expect. The boat, Mrs. Heim told me, held both cars and people. There were vehicles lined up in three tight rows waiting to board. We stepped out of the Volvo once the operator had directed us onto the ferry. I spotted a multitude of attractive people carrying L.L. Bean canvas totes. The men wore pants Mrs. Heim deemed Nantucket Reds, which were a faded salmon color. Teenaged boys wore backward baseball caps with college logos, the girls in ponytails, wisps of hair haloing around their heads.

The younger daughter, Louise, held my hand as we stood on the upper ferry deck. She looked up at me and smiled. Her dark, wiry hair a bit out of place with the other kids. I reached down and adjusted her hairband. “You’re beautiful you know,” I said. Louise giggled. Agnes, the other daughter, stood close to her mom. She was in the early stages of puberty, awkward, slightly chubby and self-conscious. I made a mental note to treat the kids with kindness and shuddered at the thought of my painful childhood. My heart swelled with pride by the idea of being responsible for two little lives. The ferry pulled away from the dock while seagulls swarmed overhead. Mrs. Heim wrapped an arm around Agnes; her shopping bag placed on the deck. A box from a bakery called, Dumas balanced on top. Several teens congregated on the bow laughing and talking. A sense of smallness overcame me. I was a nobody, a nothing.

Louise wanted to buy candy at the snack bar. On the wall was a map of Fisher’s Island which looked long and narrow. There was a small town on one end with a road cutting through the middle. A golf course, two country clubs, a few marinas and various small lanes leading to coastal homes on both sides.

“Our house is on that end,” Louise said, reaching for the map from her tippy toes. My nerves elevated as I pondered the idea of handling two kids all by myself for a whole summer.

Mrs. Heim barreled into the snack bar area. “We’re almost here.” She noticed me looking at the map. “Fisher’s is a hotspot for the upper crust,” she said. “Most of the homes are mansions. There is a lot of history. You know, old money—Vanderbilt, Whitney, DuPont.” She pulled off her sunglasses and leaned into the map. “Our house is right here.”

I worried I might not fit in on the island and that it would be a long, lonely summer. We piled back into the car as the ferry pulled along the dock. I turned to check the girls in the backseat. Louise smiled, and Agnes gazed out the window. 

“You’re going to love it here,” Mrs. Heim said, perhaps sensing my nerves.

There wasn’t much to see from the road except for driveways and an occasional glimpse of the ocean. It seemed we drove down the entire length of the island when Mrs. Heim veered right onto a bumpy dirt road. “You’ll have to take it slow,” she said. “Full of potholes.” We stayed on the dirt for a while until she pulled into a gravel driveway. The house was yellow with white shutters and a grand wraparound porch. Flower gardens edged the house, and the rest was lawn. A badminton net flapped in the breeze. At the end of the property were dunes topped with tall grass and then, the sea. The air felt thick and salty.

“Let me show you your room.” Louise squealed with excitement as she ran to the front door. I followed with my duffel bag dragging behind. Mrs. Heim drew the shades while I followed Louise upstairs. “Here it is,” she said. Her arms were drawn out to demonstrate the grandiosity of the situation. “And I sleep in here.” Louise stepped into the hallway and pointed to the room next door. “We’re neighbors.”

Mrs. Heim popped in. “You have a separate bathroom.” She ushered past me to the window and heaved it open. “This place gets too stuffy when no one is here.” White shears billowed with the breeze. “Ocean view,” she said.

“It’s lovely,” I replied. “Thank you.” I sat on the queen size bed with a pale blue headboard and floral sheets. It was the fanciest room I had ever slept in, and I felt giddy.

“There’s a boy who comes on Wednesdays to mow, water and tend to the flower beds. He’s very handsome.” Mrs. Heim opened the double closet doors. “Hang your dresses in here and use the bureau for other items.” She stood with her hands on her hips. “I’ll let you get settled. How about we plan on heading out to tour and get dinner around four.” Mrs. Heim glanced at her watch. “That gives you a half hour.” She ushered Louise out of my room. I unzipped my bag and pulled out my wrinkled clothes, relieved I’d listened to my mother and packed a few dresses, just in case. I moved as quickly as possible to unpack and then changed into white jeans and a t-shirt with flip-flops. My sandals snapped as I descended each stair.

“Let me show you around the kitchen and talk about what the girls like to eat.” For the next hour, I was madly writing notes. Louise liked peanut butter, Agnes hated it. Louise claimed to be allergic to salmon, but she wasn’t she didn’t like it. Chicken tenders were a good option for dinner. I was to provide a starch, vegetable, and a protein. She whispered that her oldest was putting on weight and expected me to be careful about having too much junk food in the house. “I buy pastries from Dumas on the weekends as their special treat.” I smiled but inside my heart ached for Agnes because no one wants their mom to think they’re chubby. That afternoon, Mrs. Heim introduced me to the deli owner where she held a charge account. We shopped for groceries at the only store in town and ordered a pizza from the Italian restaurant to bring back to the house. At each place we visited, I saw many attractive young people and my insecurities rose. I felt like an outcast and as though no one noticed me. The pizza helped calm my nerves, and during dinner, Mrs. Heim offered me a beer.

“I’m sure you’ve had a beer before,” she said. “But please don’t drink when I’m not here.”

“Of course not,” I said sipping the cold beverage and easing a burp out without making a sound. Mrs. Heim had a full schedule laid out on five sheets of paper. It outlined in great detail where the girls had to be and when. She even had play dates organized, movies, art classes and an ocean safety course taught by the lifeguard at the beach club called Hay Harbor where Mrs. Heim was a member.

“Feel free to charge whatever you would like at the club.” She sifted through the papers. “Our member number is here,” she said. “The girls have it memorized by heart.”

We spent the next few days driving around, reviewing the schedule and getting to know the island. By Sunday, my head was reeling with information, and I prayed I wouldn’t screw up. The girls and I delivered their mother to the ferry staying to wave as it pulled away. There I stood, a kid on either side of me and a world of responsibility on my shoulders.

The first few days things went pretty well. I got lost twice, was late to camp once because Agnes couldn’t decide what to wear. The second week, I forgot to pick her up at the movies. I careened around the corner to find Agnes sitting on the curb in the dark. The minute she got into the car she burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I feel terrible. Please don’t cry.” We paid a visit to the ice cream shop, and she calmed down. My nerves rattled for a while, and my heart ached.

 With the tight timing of their activities, I flew down our dirt road while the girls bumped up and down in their seats. A trail of dust behind us. After I delivered the kids to camp on my second week watching them, I stopped at the market and purchased something to make for dinner. I decided to roast a chicken figuring I could call my mother and ask her for directions. When I returned from the store, a pickup truck was in the turnaround preventing me from being able to pull my car in. I checked my watch every few minutes out of fear of being late getting the girls or forgetting to pick one of them up. A tan, blonde guy was wheeling a lawnmower down a makeshift ramp attached to the back of his truck. He looked up and waved.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Mark.” He smiled and pulled off his shades exposing piercing blue eyes. “Can I help you with your bags?”

“Thank you,” I said feeling as though I were playing grown up. “I’m Maggie; it’s nice to meet you.” I followed Mark into the house. He seemed to know his way around quite well and headed straight to the kitchen. His arms were toned, the hair bleached from the sun. He pulled a carton of milk from the grocery bag and placed it in the fridge. “So, do you live on the island?” I asked realizing it was a stupid question.

“No, I live in New York City,” he said. “My father is the summer minister at the church in town.” He smiled, twisting the baseball cap so the brim faced the wrong way. “I’ll be a junior at the University of Vermont in the fall.” Mark leaned against the white marble counter and stared at me.

“Oh, cool,” I said. “I’m starting at Boston University.” An awkward moment hung between us. My armpits started to sweat and my face heated.

“Hey, there’s a party tonight. Maybe you could come.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Mrs. Heim leaves the kids alone all the time. You have to wait until they’re asleep.”

I wondered how he knew so much about Mrs. Heim and the house, but I opted not to ask. I figured I wouldn’t receive party invites and failed to ask Mrs. Heim if I could leave the kids. “I don’t know,” I said. “I better not.”

“Come on,” Mark said. “Live a little.” He tapped the grass off of his work boots and onto the kitchen floor. “I’ll swing by around nine to get you.” He strolled out the door. A moment later, the lawnmower fired up, and he was out front pushing the machine in straight lines. His t-shirt was off and tucked into the back of his jeans. I nearly died when I saw his muscles.

My mother didn’t answer the phone, but I left her a message asking for instructions to make a chicken. I put everything away and headed to get the girls. Mark waved as I pulled away. My stomach tingled with excitement. “I met a boy today,” I told the kids as they loaded in the car. “The lawn guy, you know, Mark.”

“Mark and Maggie sitting in a tree, K-i-s-s-i-n-g first comes love then comes marriage.” Louise stopped because she was laughing too hard.

“Very funny,” I said. At the four-way stop, I turned to Agnes who was sitting in the passenger seat. “He invited me to a party tonight, but I wasn’t sure if you guys are allowed to be alone.” Agnes had a mouthful of braces and lots of food caked in the front. I tried to focus on the positives rather than pick on her like my mother did to me.

“Yeah, you can.” Agnes smiled. Her hair stiff with salt. “I’m ten after all.”

The phone was ringing when I opened the front door. Agnes ran to grab it. “It’s your mom,” she yelled.

“Hey, Mom,” I said grabbing a pen and paper. “What if I don’t have herbs of Provence?” The phone was tucked between my chin and shoulder while I perused the spice cabinet. “Nope, nothing says that on the label.” I scratched a few more notes and hung up. The most important thing she said was the liquid runs clear, and the leg should be easy to wiggle. I looked at the ominous chicken and wondered if this was going to be worth the effort. Once the chicken was in the oven, I ushered Agnes into the shower and got Louise in the tub.

“Are you leaving us to go to a party?” she asked while I shampooed her hair.

“Just for like an hour,” I said. “Maybe you shouldn’t tell your mom.” She tipped her head back while I rinsed her hair with the handheld. “I mean she might get mad at me.”

“Okay,” Louise said. “I can keep a secret.” I started smelling smoke and remembered the chicken was in the oven. When I opened the oven door, thick black smoke billowed out and clouded my vision. I must have put it too close to the top because it was both scorched and raw. I hurled the chicken into the trash. “We’re going to get a pizza,” I said. “I suck at cooking.” The girls jumped up and down, but I worried there wouldn’t be enough time for me to shower before my date. My hair smelled of grease and smoke. “Dammit,” I said under my breath. By the time I got the pizza, Mark was waiting in the driveway.

“Hi Mark,” Agnes hopped out of the car with the pizza box. I scrambled to unleash my ponytail and pinch some color into my cheeks. No one had prepared me for how hectic it would be watching two kids. I’d barely had time to shave my legs since arriving and was overwhelmed. Mark eased over to the car as I opened the door. He hugged me right in front of Louise which was embarrassing.

“Hey,” I said edging past him. “I’m like not ready at all. Maybe I should skip it.” Mark followed me into the house. “I mean I need like twenty minutes to change and brush my teeth. You know, stuff like that.”

Mark sat at the kitchen table with the girls while I ran upstairs. “Take all the time you need,” he said. “Nothing gets rolling until later anyway.” He helped himself to pizza and got the girls a glass of milk. I threw on my favorite ripped jeans, mascara and a skimpy tank top. Thankfully, I remembered to spritz on some perfume to mask the burned chicken smell. The fact was, I had no idea where we were going or what the attire was, but I figured if it involved college students it would be casual.

“Can we stay up until you get home?” Louise asked. Her arms wrapped around my waist. “Please.”

“I guess,” I said looking at my watch. “Why don’t you get a blanket and watch TV in the family room with your sister.” I peeled her arms off me. “Keep the door locked. I’ll be back in an hour.” I turned the key in the lock with a heavy feeling.

Mark looked super cute in jeans and a t-shirt. His damp hair marked with comb streaks. “You look nice,” he said leaning in for a kiss. We made out in the driveway until I saw Louise pressed up against the window spying on us. Mark threw his car into gear, and we bounced down the dirt road. “This is an uppity group,” he said. “You know, snobs and prepsters.” We drove for a while down narrow roads until he passed through an open gate. Cars lined the driveway on both sides all the way to the house. Mark squeezed into a spot, and I crawled over to his side because I was unable to open the passenger door. Music blared from the yard. The entryway bustled with people holding beers and mixed drinks in monogrammed plastic cups. Mark led me through the crowd until we located a keg.

“Mark.” Some girl draped her arms around his shoulder. “You made it.” She looked me up and down without so much as a smile. “Who’s this?”

“Maggie,” he said. “She’s working as a summer girl.” I reached my hand out which she ignored.

“Thanks for having me,” I said awkwardly.

“No worries,” the blonde said. “Welcome to paradise.”

Mark led me outside where the crowd had gathered. He pulled something out of his pocket. “Do you smoke?” he asked. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a cigarette.

“Um, no I don’t. I mean I never have.” I watched him light the joint and take a hit. He passed it to me, and I tried to fake it but smoke filled my mouth, and I started hacking.

“Easy tiger.” He laughed. I felt dizzy and out of sorts. Within moments, I lost Mark. It was as if he vanished. Panic struck me – I didn’t know where I was or how to get back to the rental. I wandered around looking for him. He wasn’t outside, so I cruised into the house. A few people bumped me, but no one acknowledged my existence. I found Mark chatting with the same girl who greeted him when we arrived. They were standing at the bottom of the curved staircase. It made me think of Gone with the Wind. I couldn’t imagine this place was someone’s beach house.

“I need to get going,” I said. “Can I use your phone to call a cab?” I wasn’t even sure how to get back.

“What?” Mark said. “No, I’ll take you home. We were talking, you know, catching up.”

“If you’re sure it’s not any trouble,” I said.

“What are you going to turn into a pumpkin or something?” The girl sneered at me then laughed.

Mark took my hand. “Libby, be nice.” She planted a kiss on Mark’s cheek.

“See you soon lover boy.” Her ass wiggled as she walked away. I wondered why Mark was even bothering with me.

“We dated last summer,” Mark said as we strolled to his car. “She’s a train wreck.”

I couldn’t figure out what gave Mark the impression that I wasn’t a train wreck. He kept his hand on my knee during the drive. I was still dizzy from the pot, my tongue dense and dry. Mark followed me into the house and helped with putting the girls to bed. They seemed so comfortable as if they’d known him forever. “They like you,” I said as Mark followed me down the stairs.

“Well, I’ve been doing the lawn for a few seasons. It’s a small island,” Mark said. “You get to know people.” We settled on the sofa in front of the TV. Mark’s rough hands moved up my thigh to the edge of my shirt. I reached over and turned out the lamp. It had been a while since I’d made out with anyone and I’d never had sex. Something told me that was about to change. After all, I didn’t want to start college a virgin. I felt ready.

“Want to go get more comfortable?” Mark asked. My bra was undone, dangling from my breasts. I eased out of the sofa and headed toward the stairs. “Let’s go to Dana’s room, more private.” It seemed odd he knew where Mrs. Heim’s room was and was sacrilegious to have sex in my bosses’ bed but I agreed. The thought of the girls catching us was far worse than breaking an unwritten rule. Mark moved around my body like a painter using gentle brush strokes. “Do you have protection?” he asked.

“I’m a virgin,” I said. He hovered over me, ready to enter the place no man had ventured.

“Really?” he said in disbelief. I guess he forgot that I hadn’t answered the protection question because he entered me and exploded after three pumps. He laid on top of me in a heap. “Maybe you should go get cleaned up, try and get it out just in case.”

After that night, Mark carried condoms. It was a matter of weeks before my period was late but I already knew. There wasn’t a lucky bone in my body, and of course, I’d be the one to get pregnant the first time I ever had sex. My breasts were tender, and I was a raging bitch. Something wasn’t right. When Mrs. Heim left that Sunday, I drove to the drugstore to buy a pregnancy test. “Wait in the car,” I said to the girls. Once inside, I stalled in the aisle until the coast was clear otherwise everyone on the island would know. The stick glared positive, and I sobbed on the floor of my bathroom.

“Well, I’m not ready for a kid,” Mark said when I told him the news. “I know a place in Boston.” It was as if he’d done this before, but I didn’t want to know. I asked Mrs. Heim for a few days off to get some things ready for college. I told her I was meeting my mother in Boston and prayed they didn’t communicate to confirm. Mark made the appointment at the clinic and paid for everything. We stayed with one of his friends from college. The place was a dump with beer cans, stinky shoes, and piles of dirty laundry. I almost threw up when I walked in. That night I couldn’t sleep, and when I did the baby was in my dreams. A peanut shaped human, tiny but with perfect features. “Don’t kill me, mommy. I want to live.” In the morning, we drove to the clinic. Mark parked a few blocks away. As we rounded the corner, picketers leered, some screamed, “Murderer!” One woman grabbed me. “You have options! Follow me. Come into the light.” With my head bowed, I followed Mark into the clinic. They offered me a valium but advised that if I took one, I would be required to stay longer. I opted not to. Maybe it was so I could remember the pain.

Mark wanted to get food before we left Boston. He said there was a famous burger place. My stomach heaved with nausea.

“Sorry about everything,” Mark said in between bites. “I feel terrible.” He reached across the table for my hand. “We can’t harp on the bad stuff. Gotta move on.” My body ached. I couldn’t think about what had happened. I slept for most of the drive back to the ferry. My knees buckled when I tried to stand. Mark helped me board the boat, and I laid my head on his shoulder until we arrived at the dock. Something told me that things between us would never be the same.

I saw Mark two more times that summer when he mowed the lawn. He waved as I gazed out the window.