Betsy Wickwire's Dirty Secret

by Vicki Grant

  That made me think of Carly. Who I hated. Who had done the meanest thing in the world to me.

  Murdoch had nice teeth too.

  Oh my god.

  I wasn’t going to look at his mouth any more. I looked at his legs. They were long and slim and covered in black hair. Just like a spider’s.

  Murdoch the Dock Spider. Murdoch the Dock Spider. Murdoch the Dock Spider.

  I said it over and over in my head, but I could not picture the big, goofy spider with the squeaky voice any more.

  “You missed a part.”

  “No, Dolores, I didn’t miss a part,” Murdoch said. “I haven’t done that yet.”

  She acted like she didn’t even hear him. “I got to get going. Frank friggin’ begged me for a game of cribbage and you know me. I’m a sucker for pathetic old men with poor personal hygiene.”

  “Wait till we’re finished, then Murdoch and I’ll come with you.” I hoped I didn’t sound too desperate.

  “Wait? You crazy? I’ve got a half-hour window before Frank crashes for the night, and, to tell you the truth, I’m beat too.”

  “No. No. Stay. We’re almost finished. Right, Murdoch?”

  “Nah. I’m out of here,” she said. “Finish your masterpiece and then call me tomorrow. Let’s go to the beach or drive down to the Kippered Herring Festival at Blue Rocks. Okay? See ya.”

  Dolores was gone in a second. I told myself at least she wouldn’t be getting suspicious for no reason.

  And there was no reason. Nothing was happening here, despite what it might feel like.

  Murdoch cupped my chin in his hand and began to paint again. I tried not to lean into him. I tried to hold myself up.

  I could smell vanilla ice cream on his breath. It seemed so, I don’t know, pure or something. Murdoch seemed pure.

  That was another thing I shouldn’t be thinking. “Getting tired?” he said. I shook my head.

  “Don’t shake your head,” he said. “I’m almost done.” “Great,” I said. This had to stop. I could feel my chest moving up and down with each breath. I had to stop doing that too.

  He did a few quick strokes on my cheeks. He turned my face from side to side, then his stool squeaked back. “There,” he said. “Wanna look?”

  He held up the mirror. I almost couldn’t see myself any more.

  “Wow. It’s really good,” I said. “But why a cat?” “I don’t know. You kind of remind me of a cat, I guess. The way they’re kind of, like, slinky.” Slinky made me laugh. It was a relief.

  “Graceful, I mean,” he said.

  “Oh.” I sounded like I’d stepped on a pebble. I didn’t feel relieved any more.

  He began putting his paints away and I noticed again how broad his shoulders were. I looked away. The crowd was thinning out. Families were dragging crying kids home. Drunks were staggering off to find some food. It was getting cooler, too, and people were looking up at the sky as if maybe they should get going before it started to rain.

  “Anything I can do? Like wrap something up or wash something off or something?” I said.

  “Oh, uh, you could, like, find a garbage can for that paper towel if you want. Thanks.”

  I wasn’t sure if he needed the help or was just glad to be rid of me for a couple of minutes. He seemed nervous again. I bunched up the paper he’d used to clean his stuff and looked around until I found a bin not totally spilling over with crap.

  When I got back, Murdoch was sitting on the stool with his legs stretched out, trying to get some paint off his shorts. “It’s supposed to come out with water,” he said.

  I couldn’t even look at his legs.

  It had been a while since a guy had touched me. That’s all this was.

  “I better get going,” I said.

  “I’ll drive you,” he said. “You don’t have to.”

  “It’s no problem … I’m going right past your place.” What could I say to that? No thanks, I’m afraid I’ll jump you if we we’re left alone together?

  Chapter 33

  I tried to help Murdoch with his stuff but he shook his head like he could manage and crammed everything into his backpack. I started walking. “No, this way,” he said.

  “Oh. Ha. What do I know?” I was trying really, really hard to find the right tone —something jokey and relaxed and natural—but I missed it by so much it almost made me cry.

  We walked through the remnants of the festival. There were still boats in the harbour and booths with those cheap T-shirts and some teenage couple having a screaming fight and lots of other things that normally I’d be able to talk to Murdoch about, but I couldn’t now.

  “Long day?” I said.

  “Not too bad,” he said. “How about you?”

  “Pretty good.” I held my hand out. “It’s starting to rain.”

  He looked up at the sky. “Yup. Guess we need it.”

  I nodded, although I didn’t really know why we’d need rain and I doubted Murdoch did either.

  All of a sudden, the sky turned dark. We both went, “Oooh,” which was enough for a small laugh. Then there was a flash of lightning. Murdoch counted. “One … two … three … four …” Thunder boomed. Two beats later, the rain hit, big time.

  He grabbed my hand and said, “This way.”

  People were in a panic, racing for cover. Murdoch pointed and laughed. A lady ran by holding a piece of pizza over her head, as if that would keep her dry.

  “The ferry terminal,” he shouted, and we both went for it.

  Everyone seemed to have the same idea. The place was packed with wet, panting people, pulling their T-shirts away from their bodies, wringing the water out of their hair.

  “Oh-oh,” Murdoch said once he’d caught his breath. He touched my dress. I looked down and saw black paint dripping on to the yellow paisley.

  “It should come out,” he said, “but the dark colours always make me a bit nervous.”

  All I could think at first was Dolores is going to be mad at me—then a weird thing happened. I almost relaxed. At least it would only be about the dress.

  “Oh,” I said. “Oh-oh.”

  “Don’t worry,” Murdoch said, “I think I can fix it.” He opened his backpack and looked for something. Then he glanced at the concession stands but they were closed. “Here,” he said, peeling off his T-shirt.

  His arms and chest erupted into goosebumps. He took his shirt and rubbed at the paint dribbling down my neck. He dabbed at the spots on my dress.

  “You all right?” he said. “You’re kind of shivering.” For all he knew, it could just have been because I was cold.

  He put his hand under the collar and scrubbed at the fabric. I wanted him to stop—or at least I tried to make myself believe that.

  “There,” he said. “Your dress’ll be fine.” He stepped back and looked at me.

  I didn’t look at him.

  “Ooh. Your face needs some work, though,” he said.

  “Gee, thanks.” Good. We were just joking around. That was okay.

  “No. No. I didn’t mean that. It’s just … you’ve got black paint all over you. You look like a chimney sweep or a miner or something.” He took my chin and started to wipe my face.

  I said, “I feel like I’m four years old.” But that wasn’t true. This was totally different.

  I could smell the ice cream again and the paint and something else that I wouldn’t be able to identify except as Murdoch. I could feel people looking at us and I knew what they’d be thinking.

  “Your mascara’s running,” an old guy said, and a bunch of people laughed. I turned my head just to sort of get in on the joke —then flicked it straight back.

  Nick and Carly.

  I felt like I’d been jabbed with a needle full of some drug. Everything inside me sped up.

  They were standing by the newspaper box. Nick was looking right at me with my wet hair and my second-hand dress and paint all over my face. Carly was holding his arm, her face turned away from me, into his ches
t. I could practically hear her, whispering to him in that little baby voice, Oh my god. Betsy looks terrible! She’s so skinny. Poor thing. That’s what she’d say. Something like that. Poor thing. As if she were nice. As if she had nothing to do with this. As if she cared.

  I started to shake. I put my hand on Murdoch’s wrist.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Am I rubbing too hard?”

  “No. I, uh, just feel a little dizzy all of a sudden.”

  “Here.” He stopped wiping my face and put his arm around me. “You okay? Want to sit down?”

  Murdoch had his arm around me.

  Two things went through my head.

  Dolores isn’t here to see it. But Nick and Carly are.

  I was still shaking but I smiled and looked up at Murdoch in a way I knew someone watching could misinterpret.

  He looked right at me too for a few seconds, then his neck twitched, he took a breath and said, “Better?”

  I leaned into his side. I knew that could be misinterpreted too and I felt slightly sleazy for doing it, but it seemed only fair. I pushed my hair back. “How do I look?” I said. I’d never spoken to Murdoch in that tone of voice before.

  “Good,” he said. He took his T-shirt and wiped under my left eye. “Perfect.”

  We stood like that until his goosebumps disappeared and the rain petered off. People started streaming out of the terminal. I could feel Nick and Carly moving through the doors, looking at me (us), making sure not to look at me (us).

  I waited until I could see Nick’s blue cap turn right and disappear down the boardwalk before I said, “So. Shall we go?”

  I thought of Dolores and made myself take a step away from Murdoch. That side of my body felt cold and bare. I wanted to go right back, but I said, “Which way’s your car?”

  He pointed to the left.

  We walked there in silence.

  I couldn’t help thinking I’d just gone someplace I wasn’t supposed to go.

  Chapter 34

  I spat out the toothpaste and looked in the mirror. “Nothing happened last night,” I said. I had no reason to feel guilty. I was lonely. He was touching me. He’s a nice guy. Nothing more. I leaned in close and got at my gums like the dentist told me to do. It just looked like something was going on, the way he had his arm around me and everything.

  My heart started going crazy. I tried to ignore it and do something with my hair, but that about-to-cry look on my reflection made me stop. I had to pull myself together.

  It’s just a reaction to seeing Nick again. That’s all this is. A normal reaction to being dumped by a long-term boyfriend. Who wouldn’t be a little thrown off?

  I thought of Nick watching Murdoch, with his broad shoulders and bare chest, leaning down to wipe the paint off my face. Nick says he’s six feet but he really isn’t. Murdoch is six-eight.

  I smiled. Then I realized that was the type of thing I would have told Carly once upon a time, but Carly wasn’t my friend any more. Dolores was. I’d tell her instead. Nick doesn’t just have funny nipples. He pretends he’s taller than he is. Can you imagine how burned he felt when he saw Murdoch with his arm around …?

  My stomach flipped like a dying fish and I had to hold the side of the sink. Was I nuts? Tell Dolores that? It would sound bad even if it didn’t mean anything. Which it didn’t.

  Murdoch was just helping me. He’d put his arm around me, that’s all. He’d wiped the paint off my face and neck and dress and I’d looked up and seen the light blue stripes in his eyes and his dark red lips but he was just helping me. That’s all this was. What else could it be?

  Love.

  It was like someone had just jumped at me with a knife.

  I’m in love with Murdoch.

  “No, I’m not.” I said it out loud.

  Why did you think it, then?

  I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face. I did it again and again but it didn’t change anything. I was in love with Murdoch.

  I looked at myself in the mirror and I thought of Carly. I felt sick. I might have been hurt and lonely before, but at least I’d been better than Carly.

  I slumped onto the toilet, one elbow on the sink, my face in my hand. What was I going to do? Murdoch and Dolores would be here any minute. How could I look at Dolores? I clapped a hand over my belly. How could I look at Murdoch?

  I told myself to stop. I told myself I wasn’t in love with him. I barely knew him. He was too quiet, too geeky, too tall for me.

  But none of it helped. I kept seeing him, a few centimetres away, that look on his face when he tucked the hair behind my ear, the way he held his mouth open just a little when he painted, the delicious smell of vanilla ice cream.

  I slapped my forehead. No. I couldn’t do this. I could not steal my friend’s crush. I wasn’t that type of person. I wasn’t going to let myself be that type of person.

  I sat up straight with my hands on my knees. I saw Murdoch with his arms under Dolores as she kicked and dog-paddled, her neck bent almost at a right angle—and it hit me. Who did I think I was anyway? Why did I even think I could steal Murdoch? He was so sweet to Dolores. There was chemistry between them. Anyone could see that. It was obvious he just thought of me as a friend.

  I took a towel off the rack and wiped up the water I’d splashed all over the sink. I was way neater since I’d started cleaning other people’s houses. I threw the towel in the hamper.

  I’d learned a lot this summer.

  I learned I could be tidy.

  I learned I could be just as bad as Carly.

  I learned a guy wouldn’t necessarily like me.

  I wanted not to be in love with Murdoch, Murdoch not to have noticed how I felt, things to be exactly the way they were before. But I also wanted to be in love with Murdoch, Murdoch to have noticed, things to have been different right from the start.

  How could I make this all right? How could I be a good, kind, decent un-Carly-like person and not hurt Dolores and still get Murdoch?

  It was like a Rubik’s Cube. I’d get three sides right and I’d start to breathe again, then I’d turn it over and find out that the fourth side was a total mess.

  I had to just stop seeing him/them. I had to break away. I’d broken away from Nick and Carly. I could do it again.

  “Betsy! Your friends are here, sweetie.”

  I’d call Paige. She wanted to do something with me. I’d just tell Murdoch and Dolores I had other plans.

  “Betsy!”

  I didn’t know Paige’s number. I had her on speed-dial but I’d killed my phone.

  So what? I’d just lie, tell them I spending the day with her anyway.

  I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to pull the lie off.

  Which lie? The one about Paige? Or the one about Murdoch?

  “We have a number of live crustaceans in the car who are getting very anxious …”

  Dolores was getting impatient. She’d bought lobster for me.

  I looked at the door. I could say I’m sick.

  No. I had to go. I’d go just this once. I’d act normal. I’d find Paige’s number when I got back and make other plans for the rest of the week.

  I put on my bathing suit and an expression I thought I could get away with, and went downstairs.

  Chapter 35

  It wasn’t really what most people would call a beach day. The sky and the water were both the same blah shade of damp Kleenex. I was glad Mom had forced the blankets on us.

  A bunch of kids I sort of recognized from Lockview High were just leaving as we got there. One of the girls, I was pretty sure, was laughing at Dolores’s sunhat. (I heard her say something about a UFO, which wasn’t a bad description of it.)

  “Bush league.” Dolores sneered as the girls left. “It has to be one-ten in the shade to go to the beach? Foggy days are the best. No pesky glare to worry about, no fighting with the crowds—not to mention how much warmer the water feels on days like this.”

  Murdoch was carrying the lobster pot
, the Hibachi, the charcoal, and three folding chairs. He stopped to get a better grip on everything. “That’s just because the air’s so cold.”

  “Yeah, so? What difference does it make why it feels warmer? It feels warmer. That’s the important thing. Geez. You guys. Between the two of you …”

  Between the two of you … I had this sudden, panicky, oh god she knows moment. It was ridiculous—that’s not what Dolores was talking about, she was just saying we were whiners—but everything was like that now. Everything set me off.

  When we’d stopped at the convenience store for drinks on the way there, Dolores said, “You guys are going to have to learn to control yourselves …” and I thought I was going to be sick then too—till I realized she was only saying there were no washrooms at the beach.

  Then she asked what happened after she’d left the night before.

  Murdoch said, “Not much,” then she said, “Not much? I need details!”

  She looked at me just as I was remembering Murdoch taking his shirt off to wipe my face. I paused and fumbled and probably got pretty red too, then started rambling on about getting paint on my dress. Dolores looked mad or suspicious but it turned out she’d just remembered some irritating thing Frank had said, and a second later she was off on this long story about how he cheats at cards and thinks she doesn’t know.

  Murdoch set the stuff down on the sand. Dolores got the barbecue going. I went to fill the pot. I walked into the ocean up to my knees and looked out at the nothing sky. Why couldn’t there be a way for everyone to be happy?

  I dipped the big, metal pot into the water. It weighed a ton and I had to hold my other arm out to the side for balance. I turned to walk back.

  Murdoch was wading toward me. “Here. I’ll take that.”

  My eyes flicked past him to see where Dolores was. She was sitting in her folding chair, kind of smudged out by the fog. I couldn’t tell whether she was watching us or not behind those big sunglasses.

  “No. I can do it. Really.”

  “Let me take it.” He was still coming toward me.

  “Seriously.” I put my head down and kept walking. I sounded like Dolores.