“It’s still so early,” Alex says. “It feels like ten o’clock.”
“That’s because we were in the sun all day,” Scottie says. She looks over at me and I nod.
I think of Brian’s son. I brought him in from the ocean. I taught him something his father should have taught him: to swim sideways to shore if you’re caught in a current, and never straight ahead. He had to place his hands around my neck while I tugged him to shore. I asked him, “Do you take after your dad?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his breath tickling my ear.
“Later tonight, maybe when you go to bed, tell your mother I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t go through with it. I saw her on the shore, the water rushing over her feet as she waited for me to bring in her boy. When we reached the shore, he slid off my back and I told him how to swim in the current. He couldn’t look me in the eye. His mother ran to him, and when she reached to hug him, her face pained, he evaded her arms and sat down. I think of her thanking me, then rushing the boys back up to the cottage. I sat down to rest and saw Scottie drawing a heart in the sand with a stick. I LOVE…a wave rushed onto the shore and washed away her declaration.
“Who do you love?” I ask her now. “On the beach—you were drawing in the sand.”
“No one,” she says.
Alex makes a hissing sound, meant to sound like someone peeing. “Giraffe boy,” she says.
“Shut up!”
We all laugh and Scottie looks triumphant, perhaps proud of her trick to get close to the boy, or just proud to feel love. Because feeling love does make you feel superior. Until you find out you aren’t loved back.
“That’s not who it is, anyway,” Scottie says. She runs her finger on the table, spelling out somebody’s name, perhaps. The true love.
“I love…you,” I say, throwing it out there. My girls look at me, unsure who’s supposed to receive it. I don’t think they want to know—both of them have never heard me say that before in a serious way. Most of the musicians have left the restaurant, but a few have stayed and are starting to play. We all look relieved. My abrupt love can diffuse.
“Here’s to your father loving you,” Sid says, raising his glass of water.
Alex looks at me and then at Sid. I wonder if she knows that I know Sid’s father is dead. She touches Sid’s other hand, the one that’s not around his raised glass. I raise my glass to Sid’s and give it a solid tap. We lower our glasses. The tourist couple gets up, and the woman takes her purse and the orchid lei. The man counts bills and looks around, holding the check and the bills, then puts everything down on the table. The woman looks back at us and I wave goodbye and she waves and walks toward the door. The man looks down at the table and takes a few bills off the stack, then puts them in his pocket before following his wife.
I look at the musicians. Two men are playing guitars instead of ukuleles. The man with the ukulele sings Gabby Pahinui’s “Hi’ilawe,” matching his guttural voice. The other two play slack key guitar and the sounds fill me like the alcohol—boldness and sadness, grit all sliding into me. Slack key. Ki ho’alu. This means “Loosen the key.” It’s what I’d like to do. Sit back and relax, loosen the key. If only we could stay here and never go home. But we can’t. I have work to do.
I told the older son to tell his mother I was sorry. Now, if he asked, “For what?” I’d say, “For what I’m about to do.”
32
WE WALK ON the road by the bay. Even though Alex made me remember that it’s still early, I’m surprised by the soft light. The blood-orange sun is plunging into the ocean. Scottie is ahead of us, retrieving flowers from people’s yards. Everyone thinks we’re going back to the hotel. Everyone thinks we have failed.
“Make sure she doesn’t pick from people’s trees,” I say to Sid. “And tell her to head to the next beach access.”
He looks at me and then Alex, as if we’re about to plot against him. “Sure.” He jogs to catch Scottie and ruffles her hair when he gets to her. She punches his shoulder, then throws her bouquet into the air. Sid tries to catch as many flowers as he can.
I see Alex looking at him. Her bemused expression makes her seem much older. “That woman today,” I say to her. “The woman with the boys. That was his wife.”
“You’re kidding me.” She stops walking and faces me. “The hottie with the hat?”
“Yes,” I say. “Sure. Hottie?”
“Someone who’s good-looking,” she says. “Hot. How do you know she’s his wife?”
“I saw them both come out of the cottage with their children this morning.” I resume walking.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
I don’t answer.
“I can’t believe he has a family. What are you going to do now?”
I hear a car behind us. We both veer off the road, except Alex goes to one side and I go to the other. When the car passes, she walks back to me.
“I’m going to tell him,” I say.
“When?”
“Right now. That’s what we came here to do. Tell him, right?”
“But what about her?”
I think of her delicate hat devastated by the water. I think of her cold legs.
“You’re just going to show up?” Alex asks. “On the doorstep? Just knock on the door?”
“Yes,” I say. “That’s what I’m going to do.”
Alex has her mouth open, a glint of excitement in her eyes.
“Don’t look like that,” I say. “Don’t look excited. It’s nothing like that. This isn’t fun at all.”
“I didn’t say it was fun. Why would you say that?”
“I see it,” I say. “Your look.”
She doesn’t know the latest plot—the fact that this guy will have inherited more than my wife. He stands to inherit our entire past.
“He may come back with us on the last flight,” I say. “To say his goodbyes. Are you ready for that?”
“No,” she says, looking ahead at her sister, bumping into Sid. Scottie hands him a branch of bougainvillea, and when he’s about to take it, she pulls it away.
“Are you ready?” Alex asks.
“Not really,” I say. I’ll never be ready. Yet at the same time, you always want to reach the end. You can’t fly to a destination and linger in the air. I want to reach the end of this thing, and I feel terrible about it. The true end is her death.
“Will you come with me?” I ask.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you, Alex. You.”
“When you talk to him?”
“No. You can talk to her while I talk to him.”
“What about the flower child?” She points at Scottie, who is tucking a flower behind Sid’s ear.
“She can come, too. You can watch her for me. The three of you can distract the others. I’ll talk to him. I’ll just tell him what’s happening. I’ll just…finish it.”
“Right now?”
“Yes,” I say. “You know that.”
Scottie and Sid turn on the beach access and disappear. I notice Alex has slowed her pace. I wonder if this is all going to backfire. I shouldn’t involve Alex so much. I should have other people in my life to depend on.
“What happened to Sid’s dad?” I ask.
Alex takes a quick glance at me. “What do you mean?”
“I know he died,” I say.
“Oh,” she says. “Yeah.”
I wonder if this is why she likes Sid. Because he has a father who died.
“Car accident,” she says. “He was drunk. So was the other driver. They were both drunk. But the other guy didn’t die. A kid.”
I want to ask if Sid’s okay, or if that’s why he’s here now, if they’re sharing tragedy, or maybe she’s trying to learn what it’s like to have a dead parent. I guess I already know the answers to my questions.
“Is this helping Sid?” I ask. “Being here?”
“I don’t know,” Alex says.
“Is it helping you? Is he helping you by being here?”
“Yes,” she says.
I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. We walk down the beach access, and at the end of it, she takes her shoes off. The sand is dry and deep. I feel my face. I haven’t shaved in four days or so. I bet Brian will be showered and impeccable, his wife and kids, too, and it doesn’t seem right to go into this with him looking better than me. I see Scottie and Sid ahead and call for them to stop. When we catch up, I tell them we’re going to see the woman with the hat and her kids.
“You mean the retard who almost drowned?” Scottie asks. The white fruit drink has dried in the corners of her mouth, and she looks rabid.
“Yes,” I say. “Him.” I realize the boys could have been my daughters’ brothers, and I almost wish it had happened—it would have been the ultimate revenge, sending Brian my furious girls. He would have been absolutely lost.
Alex walks ahead, brushing Sid as she passes him, and he follows her. I know she’s telling him everything. He looks back at me, then puts his hand on top of Alex’s head, a gesture that seems intimate and cold all at once.
I take Scottie’s hand so she doesn’t try to catch up with them. “Did she invite you?” she asks.
“No. I just thought we’d pop in and say hello. I know her husband. I need to talk to him.”
Alex and Sid stop walking and let us join them.
“Good work,” Sid says.
“Right,” I say.
The tide has gone out and the beach is wide, a crooked line running along the sand, marking where the water reached earlier in the day. People have come down to watch the sunset, which is over, but they still sit in beach chairs and drink wine and beer. They peel their shoulders back as though still soaking in the sun. As we walk closer, I feel I’m walking the plank.
I look at Sid, for support, perhaps, but he’s preoccupied. Whenever he’s quiet, I think he’s thinking about his dad, and it scares me to be around him. Part of me is almost angry. This is my time. I have a lot to deal with, and I can’t be bothered by his problems. I also can’t be bothered by pornos, sea urchins, young love, but here we are.
The pier is ahead, and kids are running to the edge of the water, then running back up the slope. Scottie joins them. I wonder what the age is when you can no longer just join the other kids. As we get closer, I see that two of the kids are Brian’s boys. I look higher on the beach to see if their parents are sitting on beach chairs, soaking in the night, but they aren’t.
The moon is behind black clouds, and the bright glow behind the wisps of black make the moon and clouds look like an X-ray. I hear the water rush up onto the sand, sounding like someone shaking a container of broken glass. The kids playing on the sand run toward me, trying to catch a ball. The younger boy pounds the sand with his fist.
“Are your parents up there?” I ask him. He’s surprisingly clean for a kid playing out here. There’s black grime under Scottie’s nails that I keep forgetting to remove.
“Yeah,” he says.
“Are they watching pornos?” Sid asks, coming up behind us.
The boy nods solemnly, the kind of nod that says he has no idea what he’s affirming.
“Scottie, do you want to stay down here?” I call.
“Yeah,” she yells.
“Yes,” I correct.
Four boys rush toward her, gazing behind them at the ball in the sky. I almost yell to her to watch out, but she runs into the group of boys and jumps to catch the ball, which falls somewhere that I can’t see.
“Sid? Will you keep an eye on her?”
Sid looks up at the house. The flower is tucked behind his ear. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll hang here.”
Scottie walks up the beach where the slightly older kids are hanging out. The older brother is explaining the rules to some kind of game. “Wait,” he says to Scottie, thrusting his arm out to stop her. “How old are you?”
“Ten and a half,” I hear her say.
“Okay, you can come in, but no one else!” he warns the others.
Sid walks past them and lights a cigarette. All of the kids look at him, fascinated. I should tell him to put it out, but I don’t care.
The older boy continues his speech. It’s as though he’s sending them out to fight a war.
“Hold fast,” I hear him say. “I’m not responsible for you.”
Jesus. “Hey there, son,” I say to the boy as Alex and I pass. “You okay? You almost drowned today.”
His eyes dart around at his followers. “I’m fine,” he says, and before I can say anything more, he lowers his voice and says, “Let’s begin.”
Alex and I cut through the hedge and walk up to the house.
33
WE WALK SLOWLY. The small cottage looms ahead.
“What should I say?” I ask, immediately regretting it. I need to be the one in control. I need her to think that I know what to say.
“You should tell him that Mom is going to die soon,” she says flatly. “Find a way to get him alone. I’m sure that won’t be hard—he’ll want to get you away from her once he finds out who you are.”
“I’m sorry for involving you, for letting you know this about your mother. It’s selfish of me.”
“I already knew everything about her,” she says. “It’s okay.”
She doesn’t know everything. She doesn’t know about her mother’s campaign for Brian, for their life together. She doesn’t know about Joanie’s fear, or Joanie’s strong love for her. She doesn’t know everything, and neither do I.
Two heads appear in the kitchen window, and then Mrs. Speer backs into the screen door, carrying a platter of hamburger patties outside.
Alex nudges me. I’m afraid to scare her. It’s bizarre that we’re here. “Hi there,” I call. Alex waves.
The screen door slams loudly and Mrs. Speer looks out at the lawn. I can’t tell if she’s happy to see us.
“Hello!” she says. “How are you? I was hoping I’d see you guys again. We rushed away and…Well, here you are.”
We stand at the foot of the porch steps.
“I’m such an idiot,” I say. “I do know your husband. I just put it together. We were walking back to the hotel from Tiki’s, and I saw your boys down on the beach. I thought we’d drop in and say howdy to you. And to Brian.”
Alex looks at me and mouths, “Howdy?”
“Come on up,” Mrs. Speer says. “Actually, I was just telling my husband about meeting you but realized we didn’t exchange names. After all that. I’m Julie.”
“Matt King,” I say. “This is Alex.”
We walk up the steps. Julie seems too cute of a name for her. I say it silently to myself a few times.
“I thought you were mistaken when you said you didn’t know Brian. I figured you must have crossed paths. He’s been so involved.”
“Yes,” I say. “Really involved. I don’t know what I was thinking. My mind was elsewhere.”
“For a while there, it seemed we never saw him. But I guess it’s almost over. Would you like a hamburger?” she asks.
“We just came from dinner,” I say, “but thank you.”
“That’s right. You said that.”
I lean against the porch rail, and Alex stands on the edge of the steps, letting her heels drop. Then she stands on her tiptoes and lets them drop again.
“Are you exercising?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “Sorry.” She walks across the porch and sits on a reclining chair. Julie holds a spatula in her hand, then balances it on the porch railing. I can hear the ocean and the children yelling.
“So, tomorrow, right?” she says. “You’ll know tomorrow.” She looks down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. There’s a conflict of interest. That was stupid of me.”
“It’s okay,” I say.
She laughs and leans against the railing and places her hands on her thighs and lifts her fingers to examine her nails. She’s wearing jean
s and a white T-shirt, and her hair is wet and piled into a bun on top of her head.
“Tomorrow it will be over,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “Thank God.”
We seem to be lodged into a dead calm. Waves crash on the shore, followed by a suction sound. I can see the kids and the orange glow of Sid’s cigarette, but then it disappears.
“Would you like a drink?” Julie asks.
“Sure,” Alex and I say at the same time.
She pushes off the railing and the spatula falls. She gazes down at the dark grass. I move to retrieve it, but she waves for me to stay, and walks down the steps. I hear the screen door opening and see the silhouette of Brian behind the screen. Then he walks out and looks at my daughter and me.
“Hi,” he says, extending his hand. “I’m Brian.”
Julie walks up the steps, blades of wet grass on her white tennis shoes.
“Brian.” I pump his hand vigorously, and when we pull away, he gives his wrist a tiny shake. “We’ve met before,” I say, looking over at Julie. “Matt King. My wife is Joanie; we met you at a shareholders’ meeting, I think it was. This is our daughter Alex.”
His grin wilts. He looks briefly at Alex and does a double take, perhaps seeing her resemblance to his mistress.
“Matt’s the one I was telling you about. He saved Christopher.”
Brian stares at me.
“I was just going to get drinks,” Julie says. “And to wash this off.” She holds up the metal spatula. I can see rust on its underside.
“Good, good,” Brian says. He pats Julie on the back. “Good.” He opens the door for her. You can tell that he never does this, because it takes her a moment to understand what he’s doing.
“Do you need help?” Alex asks.
The screen door closes. “No, no,” she calls.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, I say, “She’s dying. I thought I’d give you a chance to say goodbye.”
His body tenses. The package of whole-wheat buns in his hand looks ridiculous.
“I just came here to tell you. That’s all I came to do.”
“My dad doesn’t want to hurt your family,” Alex says. “We’re just doing what we think she would want, and she wanted you, evidently.” She eyes his face, then the buns he still holds in his hand. “God knows why,” she adds and looks at me. “Why would she want him?”
The Descendants Page 19