The Bay At Midnight Part 9

"I'm not going to light it, though," I said.

"Then why did you take it?" She laughed, pulling the lighter from the dashboard. She held it to her cigarette, inhaling as the tip turned a bright orange.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said, but I did know. I just wanted to be with her. To share something with her. To be like like her. her.

"I get the porch bed tonight," she announced.

"I know," I said. She and I had been taking turns sleeping on the porch when the weather was good. I still had to stuff my bedspread beneath my covers to placate Lucy. I'm sure she knew what I was doing, but it seemed to give her some comfort nevertheless. As long as I did that and left the light on, she was doing better upstairs alone at night.

"What are you burying in the yard?" Isabel asked, turning the car onto Bridge Avenue.

"What do you mean?" I asked, all innocence.

"I saw you bury something by the corner of the house. What was it?"

Darn. If I didn't tell her the truth, she would probably dig in the sand by the corner of the house to satisfy her curiosity and discover my clue box anyway.

"It's my Nancy Drew box," I said.

"Huh?" She gave me that "what are you talking about" look as she blew smoke from her nostrils. She reminded me of a dragon.

"When I find something that might turn out to be a clue in a mystery, I put it in a box Grandpop buried there for me."

"A clue in a mystery? What mystery?"

"Well, I don't know yet," I explained. "Sometimes you can find things and later on, when a mystery happens, you realize the thing you found might be a clue that would help the police solve it."

Isabel laughed. "You're a moron, you know that? You mean you just throw any old thing you find in there, waiting for some deep, dark mystery to occur?"

"Not any old thing," I said, insulted. I thought of the Ping-Pong ball I'd found in the ca.n.a.l. Maybe I was was being indiscriminate, but good clues were hard to find. I did not want her to shoot holes in my theory. Deep down, I knew the wished-for mystery would never happen, but I was having fun pretending it might. Grandpop had understood that. being indiscriminate, but good clues were hard to find. I did not want her to shoot holes in my theory. Deep down, I knew the wished-for mystery would never happen, but I was having fun pretending it might. Grandpop had understood that.

"You act like such a twelve-year-old, you know it?" Isabel's voice was tinged with disgust.

"That happens to be my age," I said, folding my arms across my chest, managing to bend the unlit cigarette in the process. What did she want from me? "When you were twelve you probably did things like that, too," I said, but I didn't really think she had. Isabel had always been the sophisticated older sister. I could never catch up to her. I would probably still be reading Nancy Drew and making up wolves-are-loose-in-our-neighborhood stories when I turned seventeen.

We pulled into the gas station and carried the tires over to the air pump. I tossed my cigarette into a nearby trash can. "It's a secret," I said, watching her fit the air nozzle onto one of the tires.

"What is?" She looked up at me. I could see my twelve-year old self reflected in her sungla.s.ses.

"The Nancy Drew box."

She laughed. "Don't worry, Jules," she said. "I don't know of anyone who would be interested in your so-called clues."

I felt humiliated by her condescension and my throat tightened. I had to swallow hard again and again to keep from crying as we filled the tires in silence. When we got back in the car, "Sealed with a Kiss" was playing on the radio. I thought that was the world's saddest song, and my heart ached as I sang along with it, turning my face toward the window so my sister wouldn't see my tears and have another reason to make fun of me.

Once we were on the road, she reached into her pocketbook and pulled out the red-and-purple giraffe.

"I'm going to stop at the beach," she said, "and I want you to run over to the lifeguard stand and give this to Ned."

"I already gave it to Ned," I said. "What's it doing in your pocketbook?"

"He gave it back to me," she said, as if that explained everything.

I looked at the plastic giraffe. "You think I'm I'm acting immature," I said. "Pa.s.sing a stupid toy back and forth is really dopey." acting immature," I said. "Pa.s.sing a stupid toy back and forth is really dopey."

"It's none of your business."

"It's my business if I'm the one being the messenger," I argued.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed the toy from my hand. "Never mind," she said. "I'll give it to him myself."

I reconsidered, thinking of how I could get a look at Ned up on the lifeguard stand. Maybe he would accidentally touch my fingers when he took the giraffe from me. "I'll do it," I said, reaching toward her for the giraffe.

She handed it to me. "Thank you," she said.

We pulled into the parking lot next to the beach, the tires of the car crunching on the crushed sh.e.l.ls. I hopped out and ran across the sand to the lifeguard stand. It had rained during the night and the sand was damp, flying behind me in clumps as I ran.

I spotted the usual group of teenagers lounging on their blankets around the lifeguard stand. That "Sweet Little Sheila" song was playing on their radios.

"Hey!" Bruno Walker called when I neared them. "Where's Izzy today?"

I didn't want to let him or anyone else in on our planned adventure. "She'll be over later," I said. Pam Durant was lying next to him on her stomach, eyes closed, and I was shocked to see that her bathing-suit top was unhooked, the straps low on her shoulders. It almost looked as though she was wearing nothing at all on top. I could clearly see the side of her breast. I quickly averted my eyes.

I stepped closer to the lifeguard stand and looked up at Ned.

"Hi, Ned," I said.

He lowered his head to look down at me, his eyes invisible behind his sungla.s.ses, and broke into his gorgeous, whitetoothed grin. My legs felt like they were going to give out under me.

I held up the giraffe. "Isabel wanted me to give this to you," I said.

He looked toward the parking lot, spotted our car and waved. He had white zinc oxide on his nose and a cigarette in his hand, and he looked so s.e.xy with it. Women didn't look good with cigarettes, I thought, but a man with a cigarette in his hand was something else again.

I held the giraffe up to him and he reached low for it and maybe one of his fingers touched one of mine, but I could not be sure.

"Thanks, Julie," he said. "You're a neat kid."

"You're welcome." I wasn't ready to leave. "Why are you sending that thing back and forth?" I pointed to the giraffe.

"I don't think you'd understand," he said. He looked out at the water, then stood up, blew his whistle and waved an arm, which meant that some kids were swimming out too far and he wanted them to come in closer where he could see them. Where he could protect them. The muscles in his legs were long and lean and covered with curly gold hair that I wanted to reach up and touch.

"Yes, I would. Honest," I said, once he'd sat down again. I wondered if he would remember where we were in our conversation. He did. He'd been paying good attention.

"Do you have anything that's really special to you?" he asked me, his eyes still on the water.

I had so many things that were special to me, I didn't know where to begin. The clue box, of course. And my collection of Nancy Drew books. I also had a music box my girlfriend, Iris, had given me for my ninth birthday. It was oval shaped, and when you opened it up, a girl rode a bicycle around a little track.

"A music box," I said.

"Ah, okay, then!" He seemed pleased by my answer. "When you get older and you meet someone who's special to you, you'll feel like sharing the music box with that person."

"Oh," I said. I doubted very much I'd be pa.s.sing my music box back and forth between some boy and myself, but I pretended to understand. "So, Isabel is your...uh...your special person, huh?"

"You keep that between us, okay?" he said, and I thought I saw him wink behind the sungla.s.ses. "Your old lady would flip her wig if she knew."

I knew he meant my mother by "old lady," but it was the first time I'd heard anyone use that term.

"I saw Isabel sneak into your boat the other day," I said. The words seemed to have a life of their own; I had not even thought about speaking them.

His smile faded. He took off his sungla.s.ses and looked down at me, blue eyes piercing through me to my heart. "You won't say anything, right?" he asked.

I shook my head. You can trust me with your life You can trust me with your life, I wanted to say to him, but I kept the melodramatics to myself. "I won't say anything," I promised, crossing my heart. I pictured myself inside the confessional booth, the smell of incense in the air. If I withheld information like that from my parents, did that const.i.tute a lie? I wondered.

Ned slipped his sungla.s.ses on again and glanced out at the water to be sure everyone was all right. "How come you and Ethan don't pal around together anymore?" he asked, then smiled at me again. "Don't answer that," he said. "He's a dufus this summer, I know."

I wanted to defend Ethan but found I couldn't. I nodded. "Yeah," I said.

"You tell Izzy I'll see her later, okay?" He looked toward the car and waved again.

"Okay," I said, knowing I'd been dismissed. It had been an incredible conversation, though. We had secrets. We'd talked almost like adults.

I walked back to the car and got in. It smelled of the hot rubber of the tubes.

"What did you talk about for so long?" Isabel sounded suspicious as she turned the key in the ignition.

"About how I saw you get into Ned's boat in the marina." I looked out the car window toward the lifeguard stand, nonchalant as you please.

Isabel didn't speak, and when I looked over at her, I saw that her knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel. "And what did he say?" she asked, her voice tight.

"He asked me not to tell anyone, and I promised I wouldn't."

Her grip on the steering wheel relaxed. "Thank you," she said. Then she held the pack of Marlboros out to me. "Have another cigarette."

My mother, Isabel and I tossed our inner tubes into the ca.n.a.l, then quickly jumped in after them, laughing as we struggled to climb aboard.

"I'm glad no one's taking a picture of this," Isabel said as she struggled to hoist herself onto her oversized tube. Mom and I had already managed to get into position on our tubes, our bottoms, forearms and calves in the cool water.

"Bye!" Mom lifted her arm in a wave to Grandpop, Grandma and Lucy where they stood in our backyard, calling out their wishes for a good trip. The current was swift and our journey was effortless. We used our hands as paddles, staying close to the bulkhead to avoid being run over. Some of the colored fishermen on the other side of the ca.n.a.l waved to us, as did people pa.s.sing by in their boats. We'd rise and fall on the wakes of the yachts and motorboats. It was glorious.

When we reached the bay, we rolled onto our stomachs and began paddling for real, steering ourselves along the coastline toward our little beach. I spotted Grandpop and Lucy waiting for us on the pier, Lucy holding on tight to my grandfather's hand. I was impressed that he'd been able to get her out on the pier at all. I wished that my father had been at the sh.o.r.e so that he too could have floated on the tubes. Maybe, I thought, we could do it again on a weekend when he was with us. But we never did.

Lying in bed that night, I felt as though I was still floating toward the bay. What a great feeling it had been to flow with the current! An idea began to form in my head. If the current had been in the direction of the bay this morning, it would be going in that direction again tonight. What if I quietly took the boat out of our dock and let it float down to the bay? No one would know, because the current would carry me and I wouldn't need to start the motor and wake anyone up. Once I was in the bay, I could start the motor and cruise around for a while. Getting back could be a problem, because I doubted I could stay out there long enough for the current to change direction, but it was only the starting of the engine that would be noisy. Coming back, the boat would just make a gentle putt-putt sound as I pulled into the dock and no one would be any the wiser.

I couldn't believe the sheer elegance of my plan! I would be grounded for life if I was caught, but the risk seemed worth the adventure. As I climbed softly down the creaky stairs, I knew I'd have one more thing to confess on Sat.u.r.day night, but just then, I didn't care.

Our little runabout had no light, so I got the flashlight from the kitchen drawer, along with a mosquito coil and a book of matches, then walked onto the porch. As I started to open the screen door, I suddenly remembered that it was Isabel's turn to sleep on the porch bed and I caught my breath. The half-moon was not very bright, but there was enough light that she could probably see me if she were awake. I peered toward the far end of the porch and saw that she was lying on her side under the covers, facing the opposite direction. I was safe.

Outside, I untethered the runabout, then descended the ladder and slipped into the boat. I used the oars to push out of the dock, cringing at the slos.h.i.+ng sound of the water against the bulkhead. Once in the ca.n.a.l, I had to use the oars to keep the boat going straight-the current kept trying to turn it sideways-and I felt the tiniest bit of panic over not being able to control it. But soon I was sailing easily with the current and within minutes, I was in the open water of the bay, by myself. I could see lights along the sh.o.r.e, though not too many. It was, after all, nearly midnight and most of the houses were dark. The half-moon offered a rippled, shadowy view of the water, and I felt infused with joy and a sense of peace. My plan had been to start the motor once I was in the bay, but now that I was floating comfortably, I didn't feel like disturbing the silence. I was curious to see where the current would take me.

I felt a mosquito bite my shoulder before remembering the coil. I lit it and put it near me in the bottom of the boat, and as I was lifting my head from that task, our little neighborhood beach came into view. It always looked so small and perfect from the water, a smooth, pale crescent of sand. Then I heard laughter, and my eyes were drawn to the platform in the deep water. Two figures were standing on the platform. I stared at them, using the oar to move a little closer. I saw the girl's long dark hair, the boy's broad back, and I covered my mouth with my hand.

It couldn't possibly be Ned and Isabel, I thought. I remembered seeing Isabel asleep on the porch...but I also remembered how I stuffed a bedspread beneath my covers to trick Lucy into thinking I was still in bed. Isabel had apparently tried the same ruse, because now she was most definitely on the platform with Ned Chapman. I nearly forgot to breathe as I watched them. My sister had on one of her two-piece bathing suits. From that distance, I could not tell its color. They were standing up, and I saw them come together. I couldn't tell for sure, but I imagined Ned was kissing her. When he drew away from her, he took her bathing suit top with him and I saw the faint glow of moonlight on Isabel's bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Oh my G.o.d. My hands shook as I bent over to pull the cord to start the motor. I had to yank it three times; my hand seemed out of my control. The motor finally came to life with a metallic roar. I imagined Ned and Isabel looking out to the bay in surprise. Maybe my sister would duck down to cover herself up as I sped away from them, into the night, praying hard that they had not realized I was the person watching them. My hands shook as I bent over to pull the cord to start the motor. I had to yank it three times; my hand seemed out of my control. The motor finally came to life with a metallic roar. I imagined Ned and Isabel looking out to the bay in surprise. Maybe my sister would duck down to cover herself up as I sped away from them, into the night, praying hard that they had not realized I was the person watching them.

I ran a large arc through the bay water and back into the ca.n.a.l. I slowed the motor to a gentle sputter as I carefully steered the runabout into our dock. I cut the motor, tossed the half-spent mosquito coil into the ca.n.a.l, climbed out of the boat and tied it to the dock.

I was still trembling as I opened the screen door to the porch. The fake Isabel had not moved in her porch bed and my arrival did not seem to have awakened anyone. I put the flashlight back in the kitchen and climbed the rickety stairs to the attic. Lucy's breathing was soft and regular. I tiptoed past her bed and into my curtained bedroom. I did not let myself think about what I had witnessed until I was under my covers.

One sentence kept clanging in my brain: Were Isabel and Ned going all the way? I did not even know the term "making love." I knew the basic elements of intercourse, but I did not know exactly how it was done. I let my imagination take me back to that platform, myself in Isabel's place. My b.r.e.a.s.t.s, somehow larger and fuller, were bare, as hers had been. Ned's hands were on them. He took off the rest of my bathing suit, then lay me down on the damp wood of the platform and kissed me tenderly. He took off his own bathing suit, and I spread my legs and invited him in, and somehow he was able to fit his p.e.n.i.s inside me, penetrating that brick wall. That seemed an impossibility to me, but people did it somehow and Ned would know how. He would shoot sperm inside me and tell me he loved me. My body ached to be in Isabel's place on the platform, moonlight on my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, going all the way with my lover.

I sneaked the boat out to the bay several more times that July. I only took it out once in August, and that had been a mistake.

CHAPTER 12.

Lucy.

I was in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Methodist Church in Westfield getting ready for my band to perform at a Coffee with Conscience concert. I stood next to the pillar near the small stage, watching the place fill up. This would be the ZydaChicks last concert of the season, and we always liked to end the year locally, performing for our supporters in Westfield. Proceeds for the Coffee with Conscience concert would go to charity, which was the way we liked to operate. Our music was the feel-good variety, a happy fusion of zydeco, folk, and rhythm and blues, and only three of the five of us were "chicks," a fact that always required me to provide a long explanation somewhere midway through our performance. was in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Methodist Church in Westfield getting ready for my band to perform at a Coffee with Conscience concert. I stood next to the pillar near the small stage, watching the place fill up. This would be the ZydaChicks last concert of the season, and we always liked to end the year locally, performing for our supporters in Westfield. Proceeds for the Coffee with Conscience concert would go to charity, which was the way we liked to operate. Our music was the feel-good variety, a happy fusion of zydeco, folk, and rhythm and blues, and only three of the five of us were "chicks," a fact that always required me to provide a long explanation somewhere midway through our performance.

The scent of coffee was thick in the air as I watched some of my old Westfield neighbors slip into their seats at the round tables. I saw a few of my Plainfield friends walk in, and best of all, several of my ESL students showed up. Three boys, two girls, all Hispanic. The kids spotted me standing next to the pillar and waved, grinning. It touched me to see them there. They looked out of place, a little uncomfortable, but sporting their usual "don't mess with me" bravado. Two of my former lovers were there, as well, and I was glad to see that they took seats at tables on opposite ends of the room. I made a mental note to be careful after the concert. Most of my previous boyfriends knew about each other and were cool about it, but those two had a rather hostile relations.h.i.+p. I would have to greet each of them individually.

Finally, just minutes before we were to go onstage, I spotted Julie and Shannon entering the room. I knew that Julie had picked Shannon up at Glen's and I wondered how that had gone. I'd gotten a ride to the church from one of my band members, and Julie was going to take me home. I was hoping the three of us could stop off someplace for dessert. I wanted to try to facilitate a discussion between mother and daughter. I knew Shannon hadn't told Julie about her pregnancy yet, and she wasn't going to get any skinnier.

Julie looked a bit tense from where I stood, but then I saw her laugh as she exchanged a few words with a woman she must have known. The laughter made her look pretty and ten years younger, and I was relieved to see it.

My gaze dropped to Shannon's midriff. She was doing an excellent job of hiding her pregnancy. She had on a loose white peasant blouse, a gift I'd given her years ago when I'd returned from a trip to Guadalajara. I'd never seen her wear it before, but it was perfect as camouflage. Loose and airy, the blouse drew the eye up to the elaborate embroidery at the neckline. Shannon was not smiling, and I wondered if she ever smiled these days. Her life had taken quite a serious turn. Maybe she smiled when she talked to her twenty-seven-year-old boyfriend, Travis. Or Taylor. Or Tanner. Whatever his name was, I did not trust him.

The house was packed and too warm by the time we took the stage, and I blocked everything but the music from my mind. I can't say that our performance was seamless. Something happened at the end of every season: We tended to get too c.o.c.ky. We didn't practice enough and then we screwed up in the middle of an old song we should have been able to play in our sleep. I doubted that the audience knew or cared, though. They were drinking iced coffee, tapping their toes, and some of our most devoted fans sang along. A lot of people were on their feet and the energy in the room was high. I loved it when an audience responded that way.

Afterward I chatted with my students and some of my friends-neither ex-beau hung around, which was a blessing-and then met Julie and Shannon by the front door.

"Great concert," Julie said. She took my violin case from my hand as though she knew I'd appreciate a break from it.

"You just need a cellist," Shannon teased me. It was her contention that every band on earth could be improved through the addition of a cello.

I gave her a one-armed hug. "How about we get some ice cream?" I said, as we walked outside into the warm night air.

"I need to go straight home," Shannon said, then caught herself. "I mean, straight to Dad's." She'd been living with her father for four days, and I'd been glad that she'd agreed to go out with Julie tonight. Apparently, though, she wanted to make a short evening of it.

"Oh, come on, Shannon," I said, my arm still around her shoulders. "Just for a while."

"I'm expecting an important phone call," she said, giving me a look that told me who the important call was from, just in case I hadn't guessed.