December 22, 2016 by The Citron Review
by Lisa Hartz
We had a surplus on our account at Belle Haven. So while my parents were away Edward and I were supposed to go for dinner. I think my mother was hoping he would stop being gay if we spent enough time together. If I made an effort. I wore that ivory silk dress with the pearl buttons your mother got you at Vintage Ladies. The Joan & David flats. I wanted to feel like Zelda to his Scott. He wore a narrow, seafoam green tie. Crisp white shirt. He was iced blond. Midsummer. The gray shingled clubhouse smelled of salt, and the floors creaked. Worn forest carpet. Bad maritime art, sea-fogged, on the walls. This was old money, internalized. The waiter served us the bottle of chardonnay without so much as lifting an eyebrow. Edward knew exactly how to do it. How to look the waiter in the eye, just once. Then appear to be absorbed in the view. The little white sailboats used for lessons waiting on the shore.
Lisa Beech Hartz directs the non-profit, Seven Cities Writers Project, which brings writing workshops to underserved communities. She currently guides a workshop for women at a city jail. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Massachusetts Review, Redivider, Blackbird, Mud Season, Thrush and elsewhere. She lives in the Tidewater region of Virginia with her husband and sons.