Back Where He Started

by Jay Quinn

  “Mr. Thayer,” the boy’s mother said, “thank you. I really appreciate this.”

  “Ma’am, you probably won’t believe this, but I’ve raised three kids of my own. Every day ain’t easy, but every day you’ve got with them is a blessing and another chance to get it right.”

  Without a word, Arnold Holscomb offered his hand as well. I shook it firmly and gave him a smile. Tiredly, I knew smiles and forgiveness were free, and if you worked them right, they got easier as the years went by.

  Steve and I watched Eric drive off in the cruiser as the Holscombs returned to their car. Mr. Holscomb was holding the door as Brandon got in, and Steve called out, “Hey kid!”

  The father and his elder son stopped and looked back. “You better watch yourself if you ever come back here. Not everybody who lives down here is as forgiving as this. I’ll beat you and your daddy’s punk ass if you even think about pulling any more shit like this on my beach.”

  Arnold pushed his son in the car, slammed the door, and got himself behind the steering wheel. He had a little bit of a redneck side himself, Arnold Holscomb did. He nearly squalled his tires getting back on the beach road and heading back to wherever he came from.

  Steve laughed. “Well, boyfriend, you got any razor blades? Ain’t no reason why we can’t get started on the glass before we get done with daylight.”

  “No, I probably don’t have any in the whole house. Besides, I’m hongry. Let’s go get something to eat.”

  Steve grinned and gave me a look I liked. “Well get in the truck then, bitch.”

  “Wow! Redneck foreplay,” I said as I walked around to the passenger side of his truck.

  “I tell you what, I always know just what to say, don’t I, Little Bit?”

  I remembered the look on Brandon’s and Arnold Holscomb’s faces and laughed. “Oh hell yeah, Big Man. You’re a magician with the words, awl roight.”

  David was surf casting, but not having that much luck catching anything. I got the feeling that didn’t really matter to him. All he wanted to do was to stand on the sand shirtless and occasionally stride out into the water following his hook and bait when there was a tug on his line. Somehow he could distinguish between the water’s pull and that of a bluefish. I always thought David was a cute-enough fellow—proportioned well from shoulders to hip— but he was getting sunburned, and he wouldn’t be so cute then. I could look at him and tell he was getting fried.

  “Your husband is going to be blistered if you don’t go put some suntan lotion on him,” I told Andrea.

  She rolled her eyes at me, but rose from her lounge chair and pulled her bottle of Hawaiian Tropic from her tote bag. “Fine, Chris. But you just watch.”

  With that, she strode down to him and poured some lotion onto her hand and began to stroke it across his shoulders. David responded by winding his reel and stubbornly walking closer to the water’s edge. Andrea followed him, all the while rubbing the lotion into his red shoulders. When he stopped, knee-high in the water, he leaned back awkwardly to kiss her, and she leaned forward to meet him. Then, he began to walk backward, out of the water, tightening his line and forcing her to retreat. She said something to him I couldn’t hear over the breeze and the surf, and he laughed.

  Shaking her head, she loped back to her lounge chair next to mine and said, “David is a stubborn fool. ‘I don’t burn,’ he says, ‘don’t put that stinky crap all over me.’ He smells like sweat and old bait and he thinks coconut oil stinks? Why do all men stink?”

  Luckily, she couldn’t see my eyes rolling behind my sunglasses. Unperturbed, I said, “They don’t stink, they just smell like men. Would you want a man who smelled like Chanel No. 5? Besides, you women aren’t always delicate flowers your own selves.”

  Andrea dropped her suntan oil into her bag and fished out her watch. “It’s been 30 minutes. Time to turn over, Chris.”

  I lowered the back of my lounge chair and rolled over, resting my cheek against the terry-cloth towel I used to cover the plastic headrest. Andrea knelt on one knee, then stretched and lowered herself onto her stomach. For a moment I saw her breasts sway and swing inside her top. There was no doubt she was becoming fuller somehow. Her belly had a definite curve and firm rounded swing to it as she lay, before she was completely prone. She turned her face toward me, then rested her cheek on her towel and smiled.

  I smiled back, enjoying the moment before I asked, “Andrea, are you pregnant?”

  She met and held my gaze and gave me a sly wink. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me.”

  “Does David know yet?”

  “Shhh, I kinda like the lovemaking routine we set up.”

  I snickered. “So when were you planning on telling us all?”

  Andrea sighed happily. “I found out I was at three months this past week. I think it was just about the time Schooner and Frank were getting married. Sorry little twerp. I didn’t want him to steal my thunder. An ordinary pregnant sister is nothing compared to the brave new world of gay marriage. I swear, he has some kind of psychic sense that lets him know when to upstage me.”

  “Oh Andrea. Nobody could ever upstage you. Do you know how happy I am for you? I love you so much.”

  Andrea smiled sweetly with the half of her face I could see. “Will you rub some lotion on my shoulders, Chris?”

  I stood and found the lotion in her bag, squatted by her chair, and rubbed the lotion into her shoulders and upper back with gentle strokes. Then I put more lotion on her back below the line of her top.

  “When we were little and came here,” she said, “I used to be asleep on my towel and you’d wake me doing that. I’d be drowsy and sleepy, but I felt so safe because I knew you wouldn’t let me get burned. You just let me sleep and never made a big deal of it.”

  I screwed the cap back onto the bottle of lotion and rubbed the residue on my palms on my shoulders before I lay back down and faced her. “I’d never have let anything happen to you. You were my only little girl.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes.

  “Andrea, I’m sorry if you ever think in hindsight that I did anything to harm you,” I said. “Please know I tried my best.”

  Andrea opened her eyes and lifted her head. “What are you talking about Chris?”

  I propped myself on my elbows and looked at her. “At Easter, your father told me you were having trouble getting pregnant and that you figured it was because you’d been on birth control pills since you were 15. He was definitely not pleased with me. He told me the trouble you were having conceiving was partly my fault. I’ve thought about that a lot since then.”

  Andrea raised herself onto her elbows, mirroring my position. “He should never have told you that.”

  “Well, he did. Your father, for some reason, knows you kids are a convenient stick to hit me with these days. Please understand, Andrea—he’ll use anything you tell him to strike at me. It’s just where we are right now, and we’ll probably be here for a while.”

  “I didn’t know you two were as contentious as all that.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you this and then I don’t want to talk about your father anymore. I think part of him is very disappointed that I’m not miserable and broke. I don’t think he really wants to see me that way, believe me. It’s just your father had many, many years to get used to us all being dependent on him. A lot of his self-image is invested in that vision of himself as father and protector. Now we’re all on our own and doing well. It’s got to give him some pause, you know what I mean?”

  Andrea nodded. “I think that’s a very astute observation, Chris. If you were a colleague, I’d give you four gold stars. As it is, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I admire you for handling him and the whole situation the way you have.”

  I dropped my head and rubbed my eyes, which were growing weary of the sun’s sting and the salt breeze. “You know, everyone keeps telling me that. But what else was I going to do, become a complete and total bitch—or worse, fuck up
what’s left of my life as some sort of revenge? That wouldn’t hurt your father. You know that. He’s really good at walking away a winner, no matter what situation he gets himself into.” I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I wish him well, and I wish he’d stay well away from me. Do you feel me, girlfriend?”

  Andrea hung her head and rubbed her temples. “He’s not happy, Chris. He’s gained a lot of weight and he’s drinking like a fish.”

  “It gives me no pleasure to hear that, Andrea. But it’s not any of my business anymore.”

  “Do you really feel that way, Chris?”

  “Yes, I do. Your father made his choices and they’ve not served him well. But that has nothing to do with me. Please, can we talk about something else?”

  Andrea giggled. “Okay, let’s talk about your boy toy.”

  “Oh for God’s sake Andrea. You can’t be serious. You’ve met the man. There’s nothing boy about him.”

  “You’re 10 years older than he is—don’t forget.”

  “Thanks for reminding me, bitch.”

  “I bet he’s a beast in bed,” she said with a gleam in her eyes.

  “Oh, hell no. You aren’t going to get me to go there. I’ll tell you the gory details and you’ll go running back to your father with it. He already never misses an opportunity to tell me I’m redneck white trash as it is. His ego is way too fragile to hear how well I’m taken care of in that regard.”

  “Oh really? I thought we weren’t going to talk about Dad anymore.”

  “We’re not. Let me just put it to you this way: You could take 22 years off my age and you’d be just about in the neighborhood of how Steve makes me feel—in bed or out.”

  “Damn! That good, huh?”

  “You have no idea,” I said, dropping my voice to a low growl.

  “So are you two going to be jetting up to Boston like my little brother and that boyfriend of his?”

  “No way. All that’s all fine, well, and good for other people, but that’s not who we are. Besides, I did that kind of marriage thing already. You should know—you lived it with me.” I paused a moment, feeling the conviction creeping into my voice. “I’m enjoying being right where I am with myself and with Steve. We don’t need any big pronouncements.”

  Andrea grew quiet for a while and I laid my head back down. She watched me for a minute and gave me a smile. I returned it and closed my eyes. The sun was making me sleepy, and I was definitely tired. I was too old to be having sex twice in one night, but while I was getting it, I wasn’t going to say no. All around us the beach was alive with its familiar Sunday morning sounds: kids shrieking, radios playing, gulls’ wheeling cries, and always the march and retreat of the waves. It was a summer lullaby. I wanted to allow it to billow my own thoughts until I fell asleep, happy as a teenager with a date later on, and still heavy and full as a successful matron with kids grown and gone.

  “Mom?”

  I rarely heard that word come from Andrea. I gave up on sleeping and raised back up on my elbows. “What is it, baby girl?”

  “Do you think I’ll be a good mother?”

  I reached across the sandy space between us and put my hand gently on her warm shoulder. She stared off into the distance, toward the row of cottages on the oceanfront. I decided to try to tease her out of her sudden somber mood. “You had an excellent teacher, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?” she replied.

  “Andrea, so much of it comes from instinct and pure love. Only a little bit comes from example. You go with your heart first, instinct second, and if you have any other questions, call me. I think you’ll be an excellent mother. Don’t be afraid.” I glanced back over my shoulder and caught sight of David, standing staunchly in the sun and patiently eyeing a nearly invisible filament line. “You have a good man to help you. David is a prize and a treasure.”

  Andrea looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Do you really think we’ll do all right?”

  I smiled at her. “Oh baby girl, I think you’ll do just fine. So, let’s see. If you’re at three months, and it’s mid July, seventh month of the year, plus six months, that puts you due in mid January, right?”

  “Right around there.”

  “Do they know yet if it’s a boy or girl?”

  “The sonogram wasn’t clear enough. I really don’t care. Neither does David. I just want it to be a nice, healthy, skinny baby who’ll slide right out like a letter through a mail slot.”

  I laughed until I choked.

  “Well, you can laugh. You got all your children after someone else did all the hurting part. I am definitely not looking forward to all that.”

  “You’re right about how I got my kids,” I said. “It’s easy to laugh when you don’t have to carry them around inside for all that time and then give birth to them. You should talk to your sister-in- law. She’ll set your mind at ease.”

  “Susan? Susan’s big as a house and happy as a doodlebug. She’ll give birth to a baby horse and be back at work the next day, if I know her.”

  “Have you talked to her lately?”

  “Oh yeah. She’s fine and Trey’s walking around like the lord of the manor. Have you noticed how patriarchal he’s gotten? It’s amazing. He does everything but call us into his study to kiss his hand, like some kind of Irish Michael Corleone. I want to slap the shit out of him.”

  I laughed again; Andrea on a bitch jag could be hilarious if the sharpness of it wasn’t aimed at you. “Yes, I’ve noticed. But Andrea, he’s been a tremendous help to me. I have to give him the credit he’s due.”

  Andrea sighed, then snorted softly and shook her head. “My whole family is just a damn trip. My daddy is on his second wife and round of kids. My gay mommy has turned into a reborn beach boy with an Italian stud boyfriend. My big brother is more proper than Boston Brahmin. My baby brother is one of the first people in the country to be in a real, legal gay marriage, and me? I’m just big ol’ fat pregnant Andrea, dum-de-dum-de-dum.”

  “Oh come on girl, give me a break. Name me one person you know whose family isn’t as bizarre as ours?”

  Andrea stared off into space for a minute and looked back at me with a grin. “How about David Sedaris?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN,

  FALL

  It was as if someone turned a tap, and the stream of traffic and people slowed to a slender drizzle after the colleges and schools started their fall semester. By the Tuesday after Labor Day, they had dwindled to mere drops. From my office window, I could look across the causeway to the marina beyond and lose count of the long intervals between the cars on the road. What was most striking was the noise: There wasn’t any. Quiet came down over the island once more and it seemed to sigh with relief from the strain it had borne under the crowds all summer. I sighed along with it.

  Schooner and Frank were among the first to leave. Frank got the job with the parks department in Mount Pleasant. No doubt, having a hometown advantage swung the decision in his favor. Schooner didn’t seem at all disappointed. He followed Frank to South Carolina with every bit of optimism in the world that he’d find a job and that until he did, he and Frank could live off Frank’s $23,000-a-year salary. I did and said nothing to dampen his enthusiasm. Love alone was riches enough at that age, and they had plenty of that between them. I kissed my baby good-bye and wished him well, knowing everybody had to start somewhere. I was genuinely happy he was starting his adult life with Frank.

  From Cathy’s office, I heard Carlos wake and start to cry. She’d given birth to a handsome little baby boy on the 10th of September and was back in the office with him on the 13th. I looked at the steady light of her extension on my phone. She was on a call, and Tony had a client in his office. I put the phones on hold and walked down the hall to pick the little fellow up.

  Cathy looked at me gratefully when I came through the door. Little Carlos was kicking and swinging his arms with a tiny baby’s scrunched-up face. I stooped to retrieve Cathy�
��s diaper bag, then picked up the baby and carried him into my area to see if he needed changing. I ran my finger down the inside of the front of his diaper and gave him a good sniff. He was wet but (thankfully) he wasn’t stinky.

  I cooed at him, laid him gently on the table next to the copier, and changed him efficiently without any fuss. Between the disposable diapers and the handy pop-up wipes, it was an easy business. Clean and dry and held close against my shoulder, the baby slowly traded crying for soft whimpers and mewing. He was hungry, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that. Still, he felt good in my arms, all clean-smelling and black-haired. He was a little doll baby, and it had been a long time since I’d held a baby. I just kept him and rocked him while his mama finished her call.

  “You know you don’t have to do that, don’t you Chris?” Cathy asked as she came in and took Carlos. “Don’t get me wrong—I think you’re an absolute angel for doing it—but you don’t have to. We don’t pay you enough to be a nanny.”

  “It’s no big deal, Cathy. I’ve had a lot of practice, but it was awhile ago. It’s good to be around a baby again, you know?”

  Cathy settled into the spare seat in my area and unbuttoned her blouse. She drew a small soft blanket over the baby’s head, covering him and her, preserving her modesty. With one hand under the blanket she helped him find her breast. It had taken some getting used to, but her breast feeding now was so matter-of-fact I hardly noticed anymore. “When is your daughter-in-law due?” she asked.

  “Any day now. Trey tells me she’s ready to go. The doctor says it’s up to the baby at this point. I could get a call any minute.”

  Cathy nodded. “You know, if you want to head up there when he calls, just take off. This one is your first. Tony and I understand completely.”

  I remembered to take the phones off hold and quickly checked for any messages. Luckily, there weren’t any. I gave Cathy a smile. “No, hon. I’m not going to go rushing up to Raleigh when that baby comes. Susan will need her mother a lot worse right then than she’ll need me. I’ll wait until the weekend after the baby comes and head up then. That’ll give Susan and the baby time to get adjusted without another person breathing germs all over them.”