by Molly Tanzer
“Those people. You’re not one of them, huh?”
Fin had indeed always considered herself a high society outsider, but under Ellie’s angry glare she realized that on every meaningful level she’d been as much a part of Philadelphia’s elite as anyone else. “I mean, I . . .”
“You seem exactly like them.” Ellie was on her feet. Fin cowered before her anger. “You embarrassed me by insisting I take money I didn’t earn, like I’m one of your charity cases,” she said, her cheeks pink. “Well, I’m not one of your families of crippled veterans, okay?”
“No!” Fin shook her head. “I didn’t think you were; I mean, I wasn’t thinking about you in that way, I just . . .” She realized she had assumed Ellie would be needy, which was incredibly, unaccountably rude.
“Just what?”
It seemed manipulative to say the truth, which was she’d just wanted to be kind. She hesitated too long, so Ellie finished her sentence for her.
“Just a big snob, maybe?” Ellie set her glass of tea down carefully. “Thank you ever so much for your hospitality, Mrs. Coulthead,” she said. “I had a delightful time. We simply must do this again, don’t you agree?” And then she stalked off back toward her boat before Fin could think of a thing to say to stop her.
Fin couldn’t believe she’d goofed like that, but as she thought over what she’d said, she also felt some annoyance at Ellie’s attitude. That woman had been hostile from the start—and why? It wasn’t fair at all to say she’d treated Ellie like a “charity case.”
For someone who’d assumed Fin was judging her, she had been extremely judgmental in turn about Fin’s motivations. She didn’t know anything about Fin’s life or her troubles.
Feeling wounded and indignant, Fin marched back up to the house, determined to have a pleasant night. It was possible. She knew the rules of having a good time with Jimmy and his friends—and when she played by them, she usually did enjoy herself. The reason she was in this situation to begin with was that they could all be a lot of fun. It’s just that to keep things fun she had to dedicate herself to saying the right things at the right time, laughing when she was supposed to instead of when she wasn’t, and agreeing with what was being agreed upon.
So, she did that, and hours later she went to bed sleepy and happy, pulling Jimmy in after her. They made love for the first time in weeks, and she fell asleep wondering why she didn’t always just behave as she was supposed to.
At breakfast the next day Fin was pleased when Bobbie and Lily invited her to get ready for the party with them. It was fun—they got into the champagne while putting on makeup and helping to arrange one another’s hair. Bobbie was especially pleasant, cheerful and excited about the evening to come; everything seemed to have come together nicely; the evening would be a triumph for her.
A lot of deliveries—food and drink packed in ice, blocks of ice packed in sawdust, and a lot of sawdust-covered crates large and small—had arrived during the day Friday, so Saturday had a rather festive air about it as people came to hang decorations, mark off a spot away from the pool but close to the house for the musicians, and dig a pit so they could begin to barbecue a whole pig kālua style, for the event was to be a luau. Bobbie had heard that a troupe of Hawaiian ukulele players were in the city as some sort of exhibit. God knew how she’d managed it, but she’d hired them to play, and based the party around their act.
The musicians arrived in a beat-up station wagon an hour or so before the party officially began, dressed only in brightly colored but manly skirts. They were really quite wonderful when they began to tune up; Fin wandered down to watch them. Afterward, one of them produced a marijuana cigarette. They seemed surprised when she was pleased to share it with them, but she’d smoked loco weed before and enjoyed it. As she inhaled, Fin was keenly aware of the eyes a young man named Koa was making at her, but by then people from all over the neighborhood were arriving to ooh and ahh at the tropical paradise Bobbie had engineered for them right here in Amityville, so Fin had to go and socialize.
Fin had finally settled on a yellow Empire waist dress with a hem that just skimmed her knees in layers that looked like petals. As she’d fumbled with the clasp of her jade bead necklace, she’d thought about Ellie’s question about dressing to impress. Who among her acquaintance would notice her ensemble tonight?
Not Jimmy, who had been distant that morning, telling her she looked “nice” when he’d found her in her dressing gown before he ran off to do something for the party at Bobbie’s behest. Fin got the sense he regretted what had happened between them. She didn’t. It had been nice to make love, even if love seemed to have had little to do with the act on either side.
Well . . . if not Jimmy, then perhaps Koa. He had tucked a yellow plumeria blossom behind her ear before going to play while whispering that he’d find her later, maybe, if she liked.
Fin was surprised how high she was. She and the other women had frequently passed “jazz cigarettes” around the office while printing up birth control pamphlets, but that had been a long time ago. That’s why she’d limited herself to two puffs—even so, there was a veil between her and the party as Fin moved through it, sipping a drink made of rum and crushed ice and lemon and pomegranate syrup. It really was quite good, and she doubted it would have been so tasty with moonshine.
She ought to tell Bobbie that; she’d surely appreciate hearing it. Perhaps with a little work they could find a way to live happily together, as they once had . . . Anything seemed possible in the cheerful twilight, with the bending notes of the ukuleles drifting through the warm air and the lights twinkling like fireflies and the delicious smell of roasting pork and sweet potatoes all around her.
The groups of people shifted like clouds, billowing and thinning. The distance Fin had gained from the marijuana seemed to be two-way; Fin moved among them invisibly, but for once it felt fun—a masquerade in plain sight. Since she was just another person at the fancy party, rather than its hostess, women felt free to discuss with her the service and the house’s decorations, and the men were universally eager to preen before her, and sometimes to flirt.
Fin approached the swimming pool just as a man in a cowboy hat lassoed a passing reveler on the opposite side, pulling him into the water. The splash was tremendous, but not as loud as the cheer that went up from the onlookers. Fin squinted—why, that was the actor Fred Stone! And the man beside him, slapping his thigh as he laughed at the man in the water, that was Will Rogers! Fin had no idea how Bobbie knew them, but it was certainly quite glamorous to have them there.
Watching the soaked and sputtering man swim to shore, Fin finally spied her friend. Bobbie was sitting at the edge of the pool, her bare feet dangling in the water, laughing along with a smartly dressed and somewhat damp crowd. Jimmy stood above her, a drink in his hand. He looked relaxed, at his ease—happier than he’d looked in a long time. Duke and Lily were there, too. Her dress had been splashed; Duke was dabbing at it with a handkerchief, but they were both laughing as well. They all looked so natural together; they didn’t seem to be wanting for anything . . . or anyone.
Fin felt a pang. Her absence did not trouble them; it was her presence that did. They enjoyed themselves more without her. Even—no, especially Jimmy. It was obvious, watching him like this, invisible and obscure.
She wondered why he didn’t tell her. It wasn’t money; Jimmy didn’t need her dough—he had his own now. Perhaps it was pride, or misplaced chivalry . . . but it wasn’t chivalrous to leave it up to her to discover. Perhaps he hadn’t realized it himself.
She smelled cigarette smoke, and sensed a presence behind her.
“She’s the star of the show, isn’t she?”
In the light of the tiki torches Edgar’s face was a pink smear. His lips were contorted into an ugly smile.
“I was going to be Dogberry in Much Ado about Nothing,” he said after she didn’t answer. “She convinced me that I oughtn’t stay behind, that we’d have such a nice time this summer t
hat I wouldn’t miss the stage. Too late I found out she just wanted to be the prima donna of a different production.”
“Edgar, you’re drunk.”
He looked down at her. “Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe I’ve just realized I traded a standout role to slouch in the lead’s shadow. Oh well . . . Better than being an extra,” he said, giving her a significant look before melting into the crowd.
Fin wandered away from the pool. It wasn’t that she was angry at Bobbie over what Edgar had said—he had been intoxicated and jealous and looking to start a quarrel. It was the gossipy, petty meanness of what he’d said that dismayed her. They had come here to be happy, and yet she was not happy—neither, apparently, was Edgar, and Duke and Lily were always quarreling. Jimmy too seemed anxious, though less so when she wasn’t haunting him like some ghost from his past.
She had little desire to mingle further with anyone, but she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She didn’t want to go to bed. She checked her watch. It was too late to skip out and attend the poetry reading; that had ended hours ago.
“Hey, you okay?”
It was Koa, the ukulele player. Just behind him, his fellows were crowded around the bar, and partygoers crowded around them. They must be taking a break.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“You sure?”
“Let’s say I’m better now.”
“Me too, as it turns out.”
“Oh?” He really was very handsome, especially when he was grinning like that.
“Would you like to get a drink?” she asked.
“You bet!” said Koa.
The bartender was very busy. Once they reached him he told them he’d run out of rum. There was a little champagne left, and “local stuff.” After a brief deliberation, Fin and Koa decided on the local stuff. Fin asked for one of the “nice bottles,” remembering Ellie had said some had age on them. When the bartender balked at handing over the whole thing, she finally revealed that she was Mrs. Coulthead. Then he was only too happy to release it to her, but Koa seemed a bit more reserved.
“Hey—you okay?” said Fin as they wandered over the lawn. His smile came back a bit at that, but he still seemed uncomfortable. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t know you were the lady of the house,” he said.
“What difference does that make?” asked Fin. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she realized what he was actually concerned about. “Don’t worry about it. If my husband and I can’t be described as estranged yet, we’re well on our way to getting there.”
“Oh! I mean . . . I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Not the first time it’s happened in the history of the world,” said Fin. “The important thing is that if I want to have a drink with a nice ukulele player, or do whatever else with him, I feel perfectly at my leisure to do so.”
“And you do want to have a drink? Or . . . whatever else?”
“The drink sounds nice, but definitely the whatever else.”
They wandered far from the party. Fin showed Koa the archery range she’d set up for herself, tucked away at the edge of the wood; he was more impressed by it than she’d expected him to be and actually asked a few questions about her hobby, further surprising her. She wasn’t used to people being interested in this part of her life. She felt silly showing off her technique at his request, bowless and in a party dress, but he really seemed to take it seriously.
After that, they ventured into the more private darkness of the forest proper. Fin couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so happy. She was about to say so when she stepped in something that squelched under her shoe.
“Ugh,” she said, inspecting the mess. While it wasn’t a dog turd, as she’d feared, it wasn’t much more pleasant than that—she’d stepped in some sort of gooey plant or growth that had apparently burst, coating the sole of her shoe with its juices.
“What is that?” said Koa, his nose wrinkled in distaste.
“I don’t know,” said Fin, handing him the bottle so she could scrape the worst of it off with a handful of leaves. The liquid was viscous and oily, and had a complex but not wholly unpleasant aroma redolent of gasoline and decomposing earth. In the faint starlight that filtered through the wood, the ichor had a shimmery purple sheen to it like motor oil.
“They’re all over the place,” said Koa, pointing out a few more of the bubble-like plants, if indeed they were plants.
“I’ll have the gardener take a look,” said Fin. “But later.” She wasn’t about to let a dirty shoe ruin her night.
They both paid more attention to where they were stepping after that, and as they picked their way over the forest floor, they saw other couples sneaking off into little groves or copses, or sometimes out of them looking disheveled and happy. Eventually, she and Koa found a nice bit of loamy earth at the edge of the forest, free of those disgusting whatever-they-weres. Though secluded from view by a few well-placed shrubs, they could see the bay, and the gentle breeze off the water cooled their bower.
Koa set aside the unopened bottle in the roots of a tree, more interested in kissing her than having a drink. Fin responded eagerly.
He was an ardent and tender lover. His hands, though large, were surprisingly delicate; he got her dress off quickly, without tearing it, and even hung it on a pine branch so it would not wrinkle or get stained.
His own garment made a wonderful blanket after she helped him unwind it from around his waist, surprised by how much cloth there was. He knelt on it, burying his face between her thighs as she leaned back against a tree. She felt a hell of a lot better about not getting to that reading now . . . It surely would not have ended like this.
“How will you take it?” she asked, reaching for her handbag. She didn’t have her Vimule Cap, but it was her habit to always carry a tube of spermicidal jelly with her.
“How about missionary?” he said with a wink.
“Convert me,” she said, “but please do pull out, just to be safe.”
Fin had been cautiously adventurous during her school years, and therefore had enough experience to know that Koa’s technique was a cut above. He was neither too fast nor too slow, and held off withdrawing to finish until she’d kicked the beam herself.
“Thank you,” she said as he rolled down beside her. “That was lovely.”
“My pleasure.”
“I’m very glad of that.”
Koa turned over onto his side and looked at her, chin propped up on his elbow. “Say. Want to run away with me?”
“Run away with you!” She laughed, but when she saw his serious expression, she paused to consider it. “Run away where?”
“Come along on the road with us. I could teach you the hula, and you could dance in a grass skirt while we played.”
“You don’t know how tempting that is,” said Fin. “But I really shouldn’t make any decisions that big while clear-headed.” She grabbed the neglected bottle of booze, flipped open the swing-top, and took a long pull.
It tasted not as she expected, of fire and corn-sweetness and a bit of oak. Instead it was smoky, bitter, greasy on the tongue, with a tang that was both metallic and earthen, like the underside of a rock.
“Gosh,” she spluttered.
“Sounds like good stuff,” said Koa, and took a swig for himself. “Oh!” He coughed. “I see what you mean. Damn.”
“It’s not bad, not exactly . . .” Fin took the bottle back and tipped a bit more down her throat.
“Koa?” Someone was calling from closer to the house. “Hey, Koa! You out there? We need to play another set!”
“Shit.” Koa got quickly to his feet—as did Fin, to free up his garment. As he tucked and folded it around himself, she brushed herself off and shimmied back into her gown. “Sorry, I gotta—”
“Go!” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll think about your offer.”
“Let me know!” He disappeared back into the wood. “Hi, Kamalani! I’m here!”
Fin didn’
t feel like hurrying back. Instead she took another sip of booze and stared out at the water. Out of sight of her house she felt at peace, here with the owls and the insects and the small creatures that scurried through the forest on their various obscure errands.
Long Island was a wonderful place, wild and civilized, cosmopolitan yet provincial. She had been telling Ellie the truth when she praised it; she’d come to really love it—and in spite of her current situation at home.
A sharp scream cut through her reverie. It wasn’t the shriek of a debutante being pushed into the pool, or the shout of a man challenged to wrestle. It was the genuine scream of someone in distress. Fin hesitated for a moment, but then another wail ripped open the night like lightning across a darkened sky. Fin took a step towards the party—
—And the world turned upside down.
At first, she thought she’d just put her shoe in another of those nasty plants, but no, the earth itself was wetter, soggier. It was hot, too—boiling even, breaking apart under her feet in wet bursts of steam. She tried to avoid the rumbling patches of unstable ground as she jumped from solid patch to solid patch, but soon there was not enough ground to do even that. She wondered if she was dreaming, only to realize she couldn’t be—such a thought would cause her to wake up, if she were.
It occurred to her that given how long she’d been walking, she should have gotten back to the party. She looked up, wobbling as her feet sank into the wet earth, and saw she was no longer in the thick of a forest, but in a clearing she was certain was not on their property. Not only was it an unfamiliar shape, but in the center was something—she wasn’t sure what.
Looking at the thing hurt her eyes. It seemed unnatural in some way. She couldn’t quite tell if she was looking at a glistening hole in the earth or something that puffed up above it. Lit by a massive bonfire behind it, it shone purplish black in the firelight. It was repulsive, but that’s not what frightened her most—no, what really terrified her was that she could feel its will. It was so strong, it emanated from the horrible object like an odor, powerful but invisible. It desired, and what it desired was to destroy and remake the world into something different than what it was and always had been.