The Sea Taketh (Alex Singer)

by Teresa Rae

  I clear my throat nervously as I wait for him to pick up. Jen supportively pats my back.

  “Who in their right mind is calling me this early?” a man answers.

  “Is this Colin Wright?” I ask nervously.

  “Yes, who is this?” He yawns.

  “My name is Alex Singer. You gave me your business card in an ice cream parlor in Maine.”

  “Oh!” he exclaims. “Black hair, green eyes?” he asks excitedly.

  “Yes, I have black hair and green eyes.”

  He squeals like a little girl. “Please tell me that you’re going to let me shoot you!” he pleads.

  “I checked out your website, to make sure you’re not some kind of pervert, and it checked out. I just want to know how much you pay per photo shoot.”

  “For your face, I’ll send you a thousand dollars right now, and I’ll give you another thousand just to show up,” he quickly says.

  “Where is this shoot going to be?” I ask.

  “It’s going to be in Maine. I was actually there scouting out different locations when I saw you, but I’ve settled on a beach near Portland. Give me your e-mail, and I’ll send you all the particulars, including a permission form for your parents to sign. As soon as I hear from you, I’ll transfer the money to your account.”

  * * *

  School is kind of a blur. With keeping up with my classes and trying to catch up my required reading for English, I spend all my time with my face in a book. I am even able to avoid Jackson for an entire day.

  When I get home from school, I find the house empty and that Gramps has moved my bed to the living room, behind the couch. It takes up a lot of space, but there is no use in arguing with him. I put down my backpack and get to work. I read on my bed until Gramps gets home. He opens the door and frowns at me.

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” he asks, looking at my jeans and t-shirt. He is wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants, which is kind of freaky because he never dresses that nicely.

  “Do I have to dress up?” I whine as I put down my book. “It’s only Marjory.”

  “And her guests.” He puts a bag on the kitchen table. “We don’t want them to think that I raised you in a barn.”

  “No, but maybe I should wear my raingear because I was raised on a fishing boat,” I tease.

  He doesn’t think I’m funny. “Go put on a dress. I’m leaving in ten minutes,” he says.

  Ten minutes later, I am grudgingly walking behind Gramps across the street to Marjory’s house. I’m wearing an antique, black dress from Peggy and a pair of matching sandals. Because I didn’t really have the time – and I don’t care – my hair is down.

  Marjory opens the door before we knock.

  “Thomas, you and the beauty have arrived!” she says happily. “Come in! Come in!”

  “I’m sorry we’re late, but Alexandra was doing some homework,” Gramps apologizes as we step into the house.

  “Smart beauty!” Marjory pats my cheek. “Come see our men!” She pulls me into the Victorian parlor. The dust and sheets are gone, but it’s just as creepy as it ever. Sven, Henrik, and Christian are having a heated discussion over maps of the coast.

  When he sees me, Christian does it again, he softy blows through his lips so quietly and quickly that most people wouldn’t have noticed. Sven and Henrik put down their maps.

  Hypothesis #9 – There is something up with this blowy thingy.

  “Good evening, Alexandra,” Christian inclines his head slightly. “This must be your grandfather?”

  “It’s Thomas and the Singer beauty!” Marjory lovingly takes Christian’s hand and kisses it. Marjory has always been a bit odd.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Gramps offers his hand. “I’m Thomas Singer, and you’ve met my granddaughter at school.”

  Sven steps forward, and shakes Gramps’ hand. “I’m Sven Pedersen, and these are my cousins, Henrik, and Christian. Do you own the fishing boat, Singers’ Lady?”

  “Yes, that’s my boat,” Gramps answers.

  “We hear you are well respected in these waters,” Henrik says matter-of-factly.

  “Thomas is our good neighbor and friend,” Marjory interjects. She gestures to the door. “We have prepared a wonderful meal. We will eat before it gets cold.”

  She shows us into her formal dining room. It is as large and gaudy as the rest of the house. The massive table is set with fine china, silverware, and crystal goblets. It goes against everything I know about Marjory. This is a woman who will eat a wormy apple without a second thought. It’s a complete oxymoron to know she set the table.

  “What can I help with?” I ask, not wanting to have to talk to the Pedersens. It’s completely out of my comfort zone. I’ve always been uncomfortable with strangers and more a watcher than a talker.

  “Come, come,” Marjory takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen. She dexterously covers china plates with large fillets of pollack. With them she serves lobster and shrimp. It’s strange to see the plates without a fruit or vegetable, but Marjory has always really liked fish.

  “Go down for wine,” she points to a door to her old wine cellar as she heads to the other room with the plates.

  I don’t know a thing about wine but follow her instructions. I descend the rickety stairs into the dark wine cellar. Because there isn’t a light, I fumble around in the dark. An eerie breeze sends chills up my spine. I stagger around until I feel a bottle. I grab it and a couple of its neighbors before running up the stairs as fast as I can move.

  “Good, good!” Marjory exclaims when I hand her the bottles. She washes a thick layer of dust off them and puts them in buckets of ice. I am given a bucket and follow her into the dining room.

  There are only two empty seats when I return. I cringe to see that one is between Sven and Henrik, and the other is between Gramps and Christian. I choose the one next to Gramps.

  Marjory shows Sven a bottle of her wine. He reads the label and nods, taking the bottle from her. He uncorks it and pours a small amount in his glass. He smells it before taking a sip. He then pours a glass for Christian, Henrik, and himself before passing it to Gramps.

  Hypothesis #10 – Sven is the leader of the Pedersens.

  Gramps blinks his eyes once. “Marjory, do you have some water for Alex?” he asks.

  “Oh, we forget that your American drinking laws are so different from our Danish ones,” Henrik says. “We can drink when we’re sixteen.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Gramps says, taking my glass and going to the kitchen. When he returns, it’s full of water.

  Sven tears into his meal. He eats furiously, tasting everything on his plate. Then he takes another drink of wine. “Marjory, you have outdone yourself,” he says as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

  Marjory smiles blissfully at her exchange students. “We are so happy to have you here!” she exclaims. “Eat! Eat!” she instructs Gramps and me.

  I begin with the lobster and find it absolutely delicious. The shrimp and pollack are also wonderful. I’m stuffed long before my plate is empty. When I put down my fork, I find that Christian hasn’t even touched his food. He’s too busy staring at me. It makes me uncomfortable.

  “You have cobwebs in your hair,” he says. He lifts a gloved hand and gently removes them.

  Sven and Henrik angrily cross their arms. Christian sees their reactions and picks up his fork. He finally begins to eat his meal.

  “Marjory this is a wonderful meal,” Gramps says, breaking the silence.

  She smiles and pours him more wine.

  “No, it’s too expensive,” he tries to object.

  “We think wine is for drinking, not storing,” she answers as she fills his glass.

  He takes a sip and puts the goblet back on the table. “What do your fathers do?” he asks the Pedersens.

  “My father is a civil servant,” Christian answers as he cuts his fillet.

  “Like an IRS agent?”

  “Yes, very similar,” Henrik
interjects.

  “And our fathers are in law enforcement,” Sven adds, gesturing to him and Henrik.

  “Why did you come to Maine when you could be sitting on a beach in Australia?” says Gramps.

  Henrik gives Christian a dirty look. “We came here for an education.”

  “Have the Singers been in the village long?” Christian asks Gramps, changing the subject.

  “Many generations,” he answers. “All of us, fishermen.” Gramps takes another drink of wine.

  “Gramps, we forgot to serve the berries we brought for dessert.” I stand up. “Marjory, I’ll go get them.”

  I go into the kitchen and search for the bag we brought with us. I’m looking through the seafood filled fridge when I hear the kitchen door shut.

  “Marjory, where did you put Gramps’ bag?” I ask.

  “I think she put it on the counter behind the door,” Christian answers.

  I look up from the fridge and find him holding out the bag.

  “Thanks,” I say as I take it from him, avoiding eye contact. I just want to eat dessert so I can get the evening over with. “Do you know where she keeps her dessert plates?”

  “I haven’t got a clue where she keeps any of her dishes.” It’s not so much the answer that surprises me, but the way he says it; like it’s such a trivial matter that he can’t be bothered. It is completely irritating.

  “You’ve been here almost a week and you don’t know where she keeps the dishes?” I raise an eyebrow. “You sound like a very bad houseguest.”

  He laughs dismissively. “Yes, I suppose I am, but we’ve been busy.”

  “Yeah, school’s keeping me busy, too,” I say, trying to remember what Gramps said about being a good neighbor, but I’m annoyed. How can you live with a little, old lady and not help around the house? I begin to angrily rummage through Marjory’s cupboards.

  “I’ve noticed. Is this the reason you ignore me?” he asks. He is far too confident and far too smooth.

  “No, I ignore you because I’m going away to college next year, so I have no interest in dating anyone.” I search through more cupboards.

  “Is this why you ignore Jackson Powers?”

  “I ignore Jackson Powers because he is an arrogant, self-centered jerk. Oh, here they are.” I finally find the dessert plates. I gratefully start dishing up the fresh raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. Christian continues to stare at me.

  “Do you have a problem?” I glare at him. His blue eyes are breathtaking, but he’s so annoyingly overconfident.

  He smiles but doesn’t answer.

  I frown at him before saying, “Make yourself useful. You can take some fruit to your cousins, so I can go home and get back to my homework.”

  “No,” he jumps up on the counter and laughs. “I like occupying your time.”

  “You should go introduce yourself to Jackson,” I snap. “You have a lot in common.”

  “No, you said he was an arrogant, self-centered jerk when you talked about him. You didn’t have any complaints about me.” He smiles again.

  “I was trying to be polite! Is everyone in Denmark this annoying?”

  I angrily pick up two plates of fruit and go into the dining room. I put them in front of Gramps and Marjory and return to the kitchen. Christian is picking the raspberries out of the bowl.

  “I do like the flavor of raspberries,” he muses as he stains his white gloves.

  “So does everyone else. Don’t be greedy!” I take the bowl away from him and hand him his plate. He chuckles with delight.

  “I think it would be a good idea for you to carpool with us to school,” he says like it’s a law or something. “Jenifer drives out of her way each day to pick you up, and we live just across the street.”

  “I’m not riding to school with you.” I pick up two more plates of berries and take them into the dining room to Sven and Henrik. They both scowl at me with their arms crossed. I ignore them as I go back into the kitchen.

  “And why won’t you ride to school with me?” Christian asks with amusement.

  “Because I don’t want to lead you on, and your cousins would rather hit me with the car than let me ride in it.” I pick up my berries.

  “It doesn’t matter what they think, it’s my car.” He jumps off the counter and towers above me. He is undeniably a beautiful physical specimen, but his arrogance is insufferable.

  “That’s nice. It’s not going to happen.” I go into the parlor with my dessert.

  “Thomas, I just thought of a wonderful idea,” Christian says as he follows me. “Instead of making Jenifer drive across town, Alexandra could carpool with us.”

  “We think it is a wonderful idea.” Marjory claps her hands.

  “I have swim practice in the mornings,” I quickly say. “I have to be there an hour early.”

  “Sven, Henrik, wasn’t I just saying this morning that we need to spend more time in the library?” Christian quickly says as he raises his eyebrows to his cousins.

  They frown but nod.

  “Then it’s settled.” Christian retakes his seat next to me.

  “But I like riding with Jen,” I try to argue, sliding my chair away from him.

  “It would save the Marshes a lot of money on gasoline,” Gramps says.

  “If money is an issue, I’ll just walk to school,” I say. I don’t want Christian to feel any ownership of me.

  “No, you won’t. You will ride with the Pedersens, and that’s the end of it,” Gramps puts his foot down.

  Christian smiles victoriously.

  I know I’ve lost the argument. I fill my mouth with berries, chomping away. I can’t wait for the evening to end.

  When the torture is finally over, I stomp my feet all the way home.

  “I know you’re not happy,” Gramps says. “But maybe Jackson will leave you alone if you spend time with the Pedersens.”

  “I don’t want Christian to get the wrong idea,” I reply.

  “I would rather he get the wrong idea than Jackson. Christian and his cousins seem like nice guys, and Marjory thinks the world of them. We both know that she doesn’t give her good opinion lightly.”

  “I don’t like it!”

  “And I do. I’ll call Maggie and let her know that Jen doesn’t need to pick you up anymore.”

  Gramps is true to his word. Next morning, I find him gone, having left me a note to remind me that the Pedersens are picking me up. I grab my backpack and head into the morning.

  “There you are,” Christian meets me outside the door. Although the sun isn’t up, he’s wearing sunglasses. Even so, he looks like some kind of Norse god with his blond hair and thick shoulders.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I answer, averting my eyes.

  He just laughs with amusement as he opens the back door of the convertible. I get in and put on my seatbelt. Sven and Henrik nod grimly behind more sunglasses. As soon as Christian gets in, Sven guns it.

  “Is Jackson a good swimmer?” Christian asks as we ride.

  “He might be if his head wasn’t so big,” I answer.

  All three surprise me with a laugh.

  “And do you like swimmers?” he questions.

  “I told you that I don’t like anyone.” I cross my arms.

  He changes the subject, “Have you always liked water?”

  I turn and glower at him. “What is this, twenty-questions? We both know that the only reason I’m in this car is because Gramps insists that I ride with you. You have a whole school of girls who kiss the ground you walk on. Go find a group of them to date and leave me alone!”

  I turn my head forward to keep from looking at him. Henrik and Sven brows are furrowed behind their sunglasses. It’s apparent that I’m on the Pedersens’ hit list.

  I watch the village as we drive. More than one villager takes a double take to see me with the Pedersens. Just being in the car gives them plenty to gossip about. I sigh and wish for in
visibility. It really is the best superpower.

  Only a few cars are in the parking lot when we arrive at the school. Sven parks close to the main door. I grab my swim bag and head for the school. Christian catches pace with me.

  “I don’t need an escort,” I tell him.

  “I know, I just enjoy your unpleasant company,” he says with a smile as he opens the door for me.

  Jackson is waiting for me outside the girls’ locker room. He scowls when he sees Christian with me. “If you need a ride, I will pick you up,” he says to me.

  “The Pedersens live across the street. It just makes sense to ride with them,” I echo the argument Christian gave Gramps.

  “You’re enjoying this too much!” he growls at the smiling Christian.

  “Just doing my part to save the earth.” Christian shrugs serenely.

  Jackson stands on his tippy-toes and gets in his face. “If you so much as look at her the wrong way, I’ll make you sorry!”

  “Knock it off!” I glare at them both. “I don’t belong to either one of you! Unlike other girls, I do NOT need a boyfriend!” I disappear into the locker room.

  “Girl!” Jen is waiting at our lockers. “I’d be so mad at you for ditching me if you weren’t riding with the hot, Danish trio!”

  “I’d rather ride with you. Gramps organized the carpool.” I pull off my sweats.

  “Why do you have all the luck?” she teases.

  “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  * * *

  The rest of the week is the same; I ride to and from school with the Pedersens, swim, and study. Fortunately, the school makes room for the Pedersens in art class, and I no longer have to deal with Christian in gym class. Unfortunately the Pedersens are still in all my afternoon classes. I’m so busy trying to avoid Jackson and Christian that I almost forget about the photo shoot on Saturday until Jen passes me a bus ticket to Portland on Friday afternoon. I am grateful to have such a great friend, but the whole thing scares the snot out of me. I’m up most of the night worrying about my decision, but in the end there really isn’t one. Gramps needs his truck.

  At dawn, I shower and stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t see what everyone else does. I can’t begin to understand why someone would pay two thousand dollars to take pictures of me. Yeah, maybe my face is pretty, but I’ve always considered myself too gangly with my long arms and legs. Now with two enormous breasts, I’m gangly and top-heavy. I sigh and put on my lacy bra from Peggy. Think beautiful thoughts, I tell myself as I forge Gramps’ signature on the permission form.