Salt Water

by Charles Simmons

  “I was thinking about us,” Mother said, “you and your father and me. I suppose it’s these feelings you have for Zina that set me thinking. There’ll be Zina Two and Zina Three, and all of a sudden you’ll be gone. I don’t know if you know it, but you’re the main attraction for your father in this house. The reason he and I were awake tonight was that you weren’t here. I worry when you’re alone in town, but your father just plain misses you. I should go upstairs and tell him you’re back.”

  “No, don’t. He’s probably asleep by now.”

  “You know, two people get together and have a kid. There’s never enough time, never enough sleep. Somehow you get through it. Then things get easier. What was impossible becomes possible. You can see a year ahead. At the start you couldn’t see to the weekend. Now you know what’s coming, all too well.”

  “Are you and Father having trouble?”

  “Oh, baby, these are night thoughts, not stuff to lay on my kid.”

  “If something happened, would you marry someone else?”

  “An heir to millions. Now look, you don’t have to sit around here keeping me company. Go to bed.”

  But I did have to. I got a book, and we both stayed up till dawn.

  Next day when I came downstairs, in the early afternoon, Mother was spread out on the oceanside porch. She said Father was at the bay. Then through the kitchen window I saw Zina walking in that direction. I let Blackheart come along, and we followed her. I was careful to keep dunes between us so if she turned around I could drop down. From behind the boathouse I watched her stand at the foot of the dock. Father in the water beside the Angela watched her too. After a while she walked out, stopping once as if to go back. He helped her into the water. I waited for a sign of intimacy, a kiss, a touch. But they stood apart, facing each other. Nothing else was in sight, no people, no boats moving in the bay. The sky was gray, and the seaweed gave off its damp, rotting smell.

  Suddenly he slapped her. She put her hand to her cheek and examined it as if looking for blood. Then the most remark able thing—she kissed the palm of her hand. He turned away from her, and she waded toward shore. Blackheart raced past me and out onto the dock. Bending low and keeping the boathouse behind me, I hurried back to the house. In a little while Father showed up. He looked at me severely and said nothing. This was not the person I knew. Whatever else he did, my father didn’t hit people.

  15

  The Labor Day Party

  THE LABOR DAY party was two days later.

  One of its traditions was Father’s ferry service to and from town. This year we picked up Hillyer and Mr. Walton. We brought the Angela into the marina about noon. It was a brilliantly blue, gusty day. Mr. Walton was dressed for the occasion in Bermuda shorts, Topsiders, a nautical cap. He carried a small duffel bag printed with anchors. As usual, he apologized for his wife, the beautiful Elaine, who couldn’t make it.

  In the open water Father asked him to bless the boat. Mr. Walton leaned over the gunnels to see the Angela’s name. “Dear Lord,” he said, “keep this proud boat, the Angela, shipshape, seaworthy, and snug. As she mounts the waves and embraces the wind, may she always ride high, reach port, and be ever eager to take to the sea once more.” We applauded.

  A strong gust suddenly tipped the Angela far over. Mr. Walton gripped the rail with both hands.

  “Don’t worry, padre,” Father said, “the Lord provides.”

  Mr. Walton held on tight and said, “ ‘And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, “Lord, save me.” And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, “O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?” ’ ”

  “For faith shall make thee buoyant, is that the way it works, padre?”

  “Yes indeed.” But he continued to hang on.

  Father seemed strained and his good humor forced. As we approached the Point he asked Hillyer if he had changed his mind about love.

  “Not yet, sir, but I could see how I might.”

  “You’ve met Miss Right?”

  “Yes, sir, in a way.”

  “I trust she’s a virgin.”

  “Hard to say, sir. I was thinking of Zina.”

  I couldn’t believe Hillyer’s nerve.

  Father looked quickly at me and then at Hillyer. “You think you could care for Zina,” he said.

  “That’s about it, sir.”

  “You find her attractive.”

  “Powerfully attractive. But what would you say about the virgin aspect, sir?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Hillyer.”

  “No, sir, your guess would be better.”

  “Why so?”

  “My experience is with younger females, as you know, sir.”

  “Well, Hillyer, I wouldn’t want to venture an opinion.”

  “Is that because you don’t have one, sir, or because of neighborly reticence?”

  This really got to Father. He knew he was being baited, and he thought I was in on it. I wasn’t. Nor had I told Hillyer about the guesthouse or anything else that had happened.

  As we pulled up to the dock the Cuddihys were landing a dinghy from their boat. Melissa fell in beside me as we walked across the Point. She said Ari had asked her to go steady, did I mind? I said Ari was a very nice guy. And a good poet, she added. He had written her a beautiful poem, did I want to see it? I said it might be difficult for me to read it. I couldn’t have cared less about Melissa and Ari, but out of politeness I tried to look glum.

  Mr. Strangfeld had picked up the two other Point couples, the Kanes and the Rugers, and delivered them to the party. The Chelsea Hotel had arrived and was anchored in the ocean beyond the waves. Henry, Wilder, Jack Packard, and Max Pondoro—Mrs. Mertz’s crowd—and Mrs. Mertz herself were on the ocean porch with Mother; they had just swum in from the boat. There was also a young friend of Henry’s named Sandro. He was very good-looking, but there was something wrong with him. He had no expression, and he struck poses one after the other. Listening he turned his profile, talking he looked you full in the face. No one else seemed to notice this but Father, who saw me watching and gave me his big smile. We had been staying out of one another’s way. This was like old times.

  Mother had asked Zina to take pictures, and now she moved from person to person and group to group. Mr. Strangfeld was always exuberant at the Labor Day parties. He was a big, barrel-chested man, and this year he showed up in a T-shirt that read “Dollar a Kiss.” Sandro went up to him, kissed him on the lips, and pranced away. Mr. Strang-feld wiped his mouth and clenched his fists. I thought he would go after Sandro. Mother must have thought so too, because she rushed up to Mr. Strangfeld and kissed him. This undid Sandro’s kiss, and he relaxed. Zina caught the whole thing. She then approached Father with camera raised. He turned away. She followed him. He turned away. She looked like she had been slapped again.

  Another tradition of the Labor Day party was getting lunch from the bay. The year before, it was mussels. We filled four pails, more than we could eat. Mrs. Yemm got a bad one and was sick. Mother said she deserved it for trying to muscle in on her marriage. Some years we dug for piss clams. Small holes showed up here and there in the wet sand at low tide. When you stepped next to one a stream of water shot up your leg and you knew a steamer was underneath. We served piss clams with melted butter and clam broth. They were the best dish. Then there were spearing, bait fish that swam in schools and tended to stay near shore away from the big fish. We caught them in a dragnet and fried them in boiling oil. I liked them plain, but some people were squeamish about eating the eyes, so before cooking them we rolled them in flour and ate them like pretzel sticks.

  Now, as if to get away from Zina, Father asked Hillyer to go with him for spearing. I usually went. It was almost a ritual. Father was getting away from me too.

  As soon as Father left, Zina came up to me. S
he wanted to take a picture, she said, and suggested we go to the bay porch, where the light was better.

  She looked agitated. “Misha, I must ask you for something. But you mustn’t be cruel to me.”

  “I’m never cruel to you.”

  “You mustn’t be now.” She put her palms together. “You were in the guesthouse Friday night. I saw you from my window when you left. I said something. What was it?”

  “You know what you said.”

  “I was half asleep.”

  “You were wide awake.”

  “Misha, tell me, please!”

  “You said, ‘I’m in here, Peter.’ ”

  “What did that mean?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Tell me what it meant!”

  “You thought it was Father. You were waiting for my father.”

  “Keep your voice down! Misha, I’m going to tell you something very terrible. I’m in love with your father.”

  “I know that. Were you going to sleep with him?”

  “We just wanted to be together.”

  “In your bedroom? In the middle of the night?”

  “I don’t know what we were going to do.”

  “Should we ask him? Let’s ask him.”

  “You’re being cruel, Misha.”

  “You’re not being fair. You’re asking me things, but you won’t tell me anything. Have you slept with him? Tell me that!”

  “That doesn’t matter when you love someone.”

  “It matters to me. I’m sure it matters to him.”

  “Misha, you say you love me.”

  “I don’t say that. I loved you.”

  “All right, loved me. But you know how it feels. I love your father.”

  “You said that. Why are we doing this? What do you want?”

  “I want you to help me. Your father thinks you know about us.”

  “I didn’t tell him.”

  “I told him. I made the terrible mistake of telling him what I said in the guesthouse and that you probably know.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was furious. He said, ‘How could you be so stupid?’ ”

  “And he hit you.”

  “You saw that? Yes, he hit me, and now he won’t speak to me. Will you help me?”

  “Doing what?”

  “I want you to make him think you don’t know.”

  “You want me to say, ‘Father, I don’t know you’re sleeping with Zina’?”

  “No. Listen! He’s not sure, and if you ask him, very seriously, very carefully, Are you having an affair with Zina’s mother?, he’ll think you don’t know.”

  “So you can sleep with him again.”

  Her face, which was always serene, was pinched now, as if in shame. “You could blackmail me. Is that what you want?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You could make me sleep with you. Is that what you want?”

  “That’s not what I want. I wanted you.”

  She studied me for a few seconds, then said, “You know, Misha, you’re half woman… I mean that as a compliment.” She stepped close to embrace me. “You’ll do it? For me?”

  I turned out of her arms and went back to the party.

  She joined her mother and Henry. In a minute Henry came over to me, took me by the elbow, and led me onto the sand. “Misha dear, I apologize. I lied because I wanted to protect you.”

  “It’s all right. I don’t love her anymore.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “My advice is find someone as unlike Zina as possible, and do it immediately.”

  “All right, Henry, thanks.”

  I climbed back onto the porch. It wasn’t over. Mrs. Mertz took me aside. She removed her sunglasses. “Can you take some advice from an old crone?”

  I nodded.

  “Now that you know what’s up, you must keep control of yourself. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I nodded.

  “If you don’t, everyone will lose, including you.”

  “I’ve already lost.”

  “You can’t lose what you never had. But you can lose your father, and he can lose you.”

  “Hasn’t that happened?”

  “Does your mother know anything about this?”

  “She thinks you’re the dangerous woman.”

  “I’m flattered. Let me tell you about dangerous women. Let’s say your father and I had it off and got caught. Your mother might sit for it. But if he gets caught with a twenty-year-old girl, she will not sit for it. Your mother and I are at a tender age. We’re still in business, but we don’t know for how long. A middle-aged woman competing with a middleaged woman is quite different from competing with a girl. Do you want your parents to stay together?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you must master your feelings. Can you do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want to try?”

  “I don’t know that either.”

  “Well, you can only do what you can do, and you can only do what you want to do.”

  “Okay, I’ll try,” I said.

  Father and Hillyer were back with the spearing, which Mother and one of her helpers were preparing in the kitchen. Suddenly from nowhere Blackheart rushed to Sonya, who had been sitting upright on the porch in the midst of the guests. In a kind of consent she lowered her belly to the floor. He covered her behind. It couldn’t have been the real thing because her tail was down. Mr. Strangfeld called out, “Gut gemacht, Schwarzherz!” Everyone was transfixed by Blackheart’s enterprise. When he finally backed off, there were theatrical sighs and cheers. Zina, who stood in front of me and behind Father, touched his hand. He drew it away.

  There were lots of other things to eat besides spearing. Lunch went on all afternoon because there wouldn’t be any supper. Mother always made it clear that these were Labor Day parties. The drinkers started on the wine and liquor. Some of those in bathing suits went swimming in the ocean. Although the sky was still clear and the air warm, a wind off the ocean picked up to a steady fifteen knots. As I stood talking to Mother, I saw Zina was waiting to get me alone again.

  “I have something else to say to you, Misha. You understand that the reason your father is upset is that he loves you and doesn’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Sometimes he looks like he hates me.”

  “He loves you, Misha. What you see in his face are your own feelings. If you do this for me, if you convince him you don’t know, you’ll be helping him, don’t you see?”

  “Why should I help him? Why shouldn’t I help myself? Did you mean it about sleeping with me?”

  She said nothing.

  “Yes or no?”

  “That wasn’t an offer, Misha.”

  “I want to blackmail you. Did you mean it or not?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, let’s do it.”

  “Before you do your part?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t trust me. You want payment first.”

  “Will you do it?”

  “Where?”

  “Upstairs. Now.”

  “Misha, this is not like you. We can’t do it upstairs.”

  “In the boat then.”

  “Wait till tonight.”

  “No. In the boat. Now.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry. And I’m not half woman. Will you do it, yes or no?”

  She waited so long, I thought she would say no. But she said, “Give me five minutes.” She went to the guesthouse.

  After two or three minutes Hillyer came up to me and said, “They’re gone.”

  “Who?”

  “Your old man and Zina.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t think so? Everyone else is here.”

  I took him to the kitchen door. There was Father talking to Mother.

  “Okay, but wher
e is she?”

  “Hillyer, go eat something.”

  I didn’t see Zina go to the boat, but the five minutes were up. Mother called from the kitchen, “Michael, will you help with the drinks?”

  “In a little while, Mother?”

  “No fuss, your father will do it.”

  As I stepped onto the sand Blackheart came rushing around from the ocean side. Wherever I was going he was going.

  The Angela was tipping from side to side. I told Blackheart to stay. He knew when there was no appeal and sat down on the dock, excited, his tail twitching. He seemed to be saying to me, “Now you!” I was ashamed of the thought. I wanted to sleep with Zina, but also the idea occurred to me that maybe I would be undoing what Father had done, the way Mother had undone Sandro’s kiss.

  I opened the cabin door. Zina was lying naked, face up, pressed to one side of the bunk. Her eyes were closed and her hands crossed on her chest like a corpse. I stood there, waiting for her to look at me and say something. But she didn’t move. I got out of my bathing suit and lay down beside her. I put my hand on her. She pushed it away and said, “Let’s just do it.” Her voice was cold and flat. I didn’t care. I raised myself on my hands to get on top of her, but she arranged it so that we did it on our side. She kept her eyes closed all through it. Before it was over I knew I had made a terrible mistake, but the sweetness of it filled me, excluding everything else.

  Afterwards I waited for her to say something, if only my name. But she didn’t. I wanted to tell her I loved her. But instead I said I was sorry. She didn’t even say it was all right. What she said finally was, “You’ll do it now, won’t you?” I said I would.

  A volleyball game started on the beach. Zina joined Mr. Strangfeld’s team. The only sign that we had been together was a quick, pleading look she gave me. Mrs. Mertz caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up signal, as if to strengthen my resolve to master my feelings. Hillyer nodded to me knowingly, like one spy to another. He was still looking for clues.

  Whatever Zina had felt for me I had destroyed. I walked into the ocean and pulled my trunks away from my body so that the salt water would circulate and wash away the mistake.

  At five o’clock heavy clouds blew in from the north. Some people were still swimming. Father waved them out, and when lightning and rain came we all took cover on the porch. I wanted this party to be done and the summer to be done.