Maine Characters

This section of the novel makes it clear that both half-sisters fear being alone, especially in their romantic relationships with men, and the narrative also implies that their feelings in this matter stem from their respective relationships with Hank. Specifically, Vivian thinks that Hank “never seemed proud” of her, as though he “saw her as a disappointment” (100). She felt emotionally cast out, especially when he lied after she caught him on the phone with Lucy. In her mind, every moment that he didn’t tell her the truth feels like abandonment and a new betrayal of her trust. Now, as Vivian grapples with the complexities of her own love life, she interprets Oscar’s distance and limited attention in a similar way, seeing these details as evidence that Oscar might abandon her as Hank once did. Lucy, for her part, struggles to understand why Hank felt that Vivian deserved more of his time, care, and money. Lucy realizes that he “let Vivian grow up sheltered” but refuses to “dwell on why he didn’t do the same for her” (144). However, this discrepancy makes her fear that she may be unworthy of someone’s full capacity to love, as Hank seemed to love and value her less than Vivian for no apparent reason. Thus, when Caleb and Paige are there to support her, Lucy reassures herself by reflecting that their presence is “proof she still has someone besides Patrick who will care for her when she’s too much of a mess to fend for herself” (94). Because Patrick has become unappreciative of her, she is even more grateful for the friends who keep her from feeling isolated and unlovable.

The women vie for control of Hank’s memory and possessions, as though this will give them a sense of control over their lives, and they do not yet realize that this difficult situation will force them to use their Grief as a Catalyst for Personal Transformation. In these early stages, they both succumb to quick-tempered statements and petty behavior. As Vivian cleans up Hank’s room, “[p]anic rises in [Lucy’s] chest as she sifts through the soft mess” (97), and she is livid that Vivian has parsed Hank’s things alone with the intention of throwing them out. When Vivian tells Lucy that she “can’t fight this forever,” Lucy retorts, “You don’t get to have the final say on everything!” (98). Clearly, Lucy wants to assert some measure of control in how Hank’s possessions are managed because doing so will help her legitimize her claims about her importance to him when he was alive. If she can convince Vivian that she deserves consideration, she may be able to convince herself as well. In this context, Hank’s clothes are symbolic of his memory and his very life; while Vivian is ready to part with them, Lucy has flipped to the other extreme and wants to keep them all. 

The author further extends the novel’s clothing-based metaphors and symbols when Vivian mentally compares her growing suspicions about Hank’s secrets to the unraveling of a garment. Years ago, when she overheard his phone call with Lucy, it “was like the first snag in a sweater. She could’ve sewn it up—confronted him or let it go. Instead, she took note of every single one of Hank’s infractions and watched the wool unravel” (99). This simile shows that her decision to punish him—and systematically ruin their relationship—has been an intentional form of destruction. At the same time, Vivian is burdened by further secrets of her own and is therefore pleased when she “can tell the truth about” something because she cannot “stomach sharing” any more of the things she has been hiding (119-20)—such as her issues with her unequal romantic relationship with her boss, the already-married Oscar. Her worry about her own life and her current family situation indicates that she feels some personal responsibility, shame, and guilt in connection with her father’s death.

By contrast, Lucy constantly tries to prove to others—to Hank, Patrick, and even Caleb—that she is worthy of their time and love. In the final years of her marriage to Patrick, for example, “she felt superfluous, [like] an unwanted distraction” (112). Her inferior status as Hank’s “illegitimate” daughter, with their entire relationship relegated to July of each year, also makes her feel like the lesser child in his world. Likewise, because “[n]obody makes [Lucy] feel as powerless and hopeless as Vivian does” (142), the two half-sisters remain locked in a bitter conflict as each one tries to prove her own value after being made to feel inconsequential by men for so long.