That Summer in Maine

by Brianna Wolfson

  “You sure now? You know you don’t have to...” Silas started to say, but then Hazel tore the bottle from his hand with a furious rush of something inside her she had never felt before.

  She exhaled fully and then poured the liquid into her mouth. The bubbles were angry and sharp going down. The beer was bitter and nasty on her tongue. Hazel felt her face begin to contort—her lips pursing, her nose scrunching up, her eyebrows pressing together. But she stopped herself from wincing and continued to gulp it all down. She gulped and gulped until the entire bottle was finished and then she slammed it down on the table next to Eve’s.

  Eve looked impressed. And Hazel felt cool and sexy and interesting and mature and alive. She had discovered what it felt like to do something dangerous at the same time as she had rediscovered what it felt like to be part of something. The combination of feelings strengthened the validity of both. It made her want to do more, feel more. To sink deeper. To be part of this new family.

  For so long she had been thirsting for someone that understood her, and in this moment she had felt fulfilled at a mere admiring gaze from Eve and Silas. This place, these people in it, would be more than enough. Her mother would have never let an adventure like this happen anymore. Not since the twins were born. Hazel was ready for newness in her life. Ready for connection.

  “Looks like you two have got some Box genes in ya, after all!” Silas said, swelling with pride.

  He slapped Hazel on the back firmly, which caused her to belch.

  All three of them laughed and laughed and laughed, and then belched some more.

  “Well, I’ll get us some more, then. It’s going to be a fun night, you guys.” Silas got up to get another set of beers from the refrigerator and Hazel was already spinning.

  “Dig in,” Silas instructed as he set the new cold beers down onto the table. Hazel reached for the bread and butter. Her hands felt foreign and wobbly as she placed a slice on her plate and took a buttered knife across the surface. She took another sip of her beer. This one felt smoother, less shocking. And then she piled more food onto her plate.

  All three of them ate and drank and told stories and laughed and ate and drank and told stories and laughed some more. They all inhaled the conversation as much as they inhaled their dinners. And as much as Hazel inhaled her beer. None of them even bothered to pause in moments between words leaving their lips and their meal entering it. Soon, the outlines of Eve’s and Silas’s bodies began to get fuzzy and then the food at the table began to blur. But Hazel ate and drank and drank and ate even more. And then everything blurred some more.

  * * *

  When Hazel came to, her bare bottom felt cold against the tile beneath her and her head and body felt as if they were filled with lead. The room was dark and quiet and water poured down on her from the showerhead above in a constant stream, splattering around her. Hazel’s knees were tucked into her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Everything was still blurry and she could taste the acidity of vomit lingering inside her cheeks. Her eyes were closed but all she could see was green. That same putrid, nauseating green of her bedroom wall. The image enlarged and contracted with the throbbing of her head as if it were a breathing lung.

  Hazel stood up slowly, continuing to let the water pour over her. Her legs wobbled as she did it but it felt good to stand. She opened her mouth to the stream and let the water overflow in her open mouth and roll down her chin. She motioned to turn the water off, but her stomach contracted violently. She pressed her palm into the wall of the shower and tilted her head down. Chunks of food and slimy chyme from her stomach spewed from her mouth and fell into a warm and viscous mound on her feet. She moved her head away to let the water wash her toes. Through watery eyes, Hazel observed muculent globs of food stuck to the drain, resisting the force of the water trying to wash it down.

  Her throat felt sore from the stomach acid, the stench of which filled her nostrils. She turned her mouth up toward the water to cleanse it again. Her stomach contracted again, but this time Hazel only dry-heaved. She dropped back down to the floor of the shower and pulled her knees into her chest, trying to stay clear of the lingering vomit. As she returned to this position with the water running over her, Hazel wondered how many times she had already repeated this pattern—stand up, vomit, sink down, let the water cleanse her, stand up, vomit, sink down, let the water cleanse her.

  Hazel could feel her pulse in her temples. The world around her was glitchy and dark. Her mouth tasted sticky and stale. Her insides felt empty and aching. Hazel pressed her forehead into her knees and squeezed her shins. Her wet hair stuck to the outsides of her calves and she let out a groan, perhaps as a way to transfer all the horrible, disgusting, vile things from her insides out into the world, hoping something else would absorb them. Take away her agony, her embarrassment.

  She pressed her forehead further into her knees, resigning herself to sit under that showerhead next to her own vomit for eternity when the door to the bathroom creaked open. Hazel rolled her head over, leaving one ear on her knee, and looked toward the door. Eve appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm.

  “What are you doing in here?” she mumbled through sleepy lips.

  Hazel turned her forehead back into the tops of her knees and groaned again.

  Eve opened the door to the shower and reached to turn the water off and then crouched down next to Hazel. Eve shimmied her legs around Hazel’s curled body and then tucked Hazel’s wet hair behind her ear.

  “Ew!” she shrieked, presumably having just identified the vomit at the center of the drain. She chuckled a bit as she tickled Hazel’s back up and down with her fingertips.

  “Oh yeah, been here before.” She tickled Hazel’s back again. It felt good to have another body next to hers. It felt good to have help. It felt good to know that Eve had gone through this before. That Hazel had a partner.

  “Hold on, gotta piss,” Eve interrupted and then popped up.

  Hazel moaned again and followed Eve with her gaze.

  Eve pulled her pants down and sat down onto the toilet.

  Hazel thought to close her eyes, or turn her head away at the sound of the rushing urine, but her reaction time was slow and her movements were viscous.

  “Yup, that’s what three beers will get you!” Eve said from the toilet seat as the gush of water turned into a gentle tinkling sound and her pee came to an end.

  “You’re a pretty fun drunk, though, I have to say.”

  Hazel couldn’t help smiling.

  Eve pulled a big wad of toilet paper from the roll, wiped her crotch, stood up and then pulled her pajamas back up.

  “Let’s get you back to bed.”

  Eve joined Hazel again in the shower, this time with a towel. She shook it, rubbed it vigorously across Hazel’s wet hair and then wrapped it around her. Eve cupped one hand beneath Hazel’s elbow and then grabbed onto her opposite arm with her other hand.

  “All right, up we go, drunky.”

  Hazel stood up on wobbly legs again. Her heavy throbbing head fell onto Eve’s shoulder.

  “Thank you,” Hazel mustered and stumbled along with Eve.

  When they reached the bed, Hazel tumbled over onto it and felt her towel slip off. Too weak to react, Hazel splayed her bare body out across her sheets.

  “Hey! I knew you had good tits!” Eve said and gave her underbreast a pinch.

  Hazel smiled limply and motioned to swat Eve’s hand away playfully, but Eve had already left the side of the bed and come back with a clean T-shirt and a glass of water. Eve pulled Hazel into a seated position by her arms and then pulled the shirt over her head, and then her arms through the armholes.

  “All right, you, drink this whole glass of water and then sleep it off.”

  Hazel curled her fingers around the glass and brought it to her lips. Eve left her hands on top of Hazel’s as s
he did it. Eve slid one, and then the other of Hazel’s legs under the sheets, and then pulled the comforter over her.

  Eve returned to her own bed, and said good-night through the darkness and from across the room. Hazel began to drift into sleep with the lingering feeling of Eve’s fingers on her fingers. With the lingering feeling of friendship and sisterhood and happiness. Despite the feeling of her head throbbing and water sloshing around in her empty belly.

  23

  Hazel woke up still in a fog, got dressed and made her way downstairs to the kitchen and gulped down a cold cup of water. Just as she finished the final drop, Silas burst in the room.

  “Hellooo—” he began but stopped abruptly upon seeing Hazel. “You look really terrible.”

  Hazel paused for a moment, trying to put words together in a retort.

  Silas opened a cabinet, pulled out a bottle, shook out two maroon ibuprofen pills and placed them on the countertop in front of her. “Two pills and two more glasses of water will do the trick.” He smiled at Hazel knowingly, perhaps even paternally, as he watched her swallow the ibuprofen and water down.

  “Plus, we’ll head out on the lake today, take the boat out for a drive. Some fresh air will be nice.”

  Eve emerged on the staircase, her hair still wet from the shower. “Yes! The boat’s the best! Do I have to wear one of those disgusting life—” Eve also stopped abruptly upon seeing Hazel.

  “You look terrible,” she said similarly matter-of-factly, but with a glimmer of enjoyment in her eye.

  Hazel felt the cool water running through her empty stomach.

  She picked her head up to look over at Eve. “That’s what he tells me, too.”

  “Bad morning is a sign of a good night. That’s what I always say!” Silas chimed in, overly chipper.

  “That’s what you always say?” Eve asked smugly.

  Silas smiled and tucked a piece of dark hair behind his ear.

  Before a moment of silence could even briefly hang in the air, Eve reclaimed it. “Okay, but seriously, do I have to wear the life jacket?”

  “Yes, you do. You both do! Follow me down toward the shed. Fresh air is going to be really nice for you especially, Hazel!”

  Hazel pulled her feet under her again and followed Silas and Eve out the back door. They traversed the backyard and made their way to a path between two trees sloping down toward the lake. As soon as they passed by the two large trees, the full view of the sparkling lake emerged.

  Hazel inhaled. She could feel her lingering nausea escaping her body, replaced by the crisp air. She felt a little tickle in her belly as she thought of getting out onto the water. Silas, Eve and Hazel all enjoying the great big lake and the great big sun together.

  The ground leveled out into a small sandy beach. Timid waves from the lake washed up gently and rhythmically onto the sand. A long wooden dock stretched out over the lake, a big white boat bouncing on the side.

  Eve’s face lit up and she leaped toward the dock swiftly, her long legs beginning a stride.

  “Wait a minute, you!” Silas shouted.

  Eve stopped in her tracks without even turning around.

  Silas made his way to a rickety old shed set into the hill and emerged with two life jackets. They were faded from too many hours in the sun but did not seem like they had been used much. As Silas pulled the two life jackets apart, wisps of cobwebs clung delicately between them. Silas began slapping each jacket on the ground, his tanned and powerful arm in sharp juxtaposition to the dull and lifeless jackets. Flecks of dust formed a transitory opaque cloud around them.

  “These look way worse than last time! I’m serious! I’m not putting that on,” Eve shrieked.

  Without even lifting his head, Silas tossed one jacket each girl’s way. “Sure you are!” he said breezily, sarcasm dripping from every word.

  Eve pinched the edge of the jacket between two fingers and held it away from her body. “It stinks!”

  Hazel laughed and slipped hers on each shoulder, zipped it shut and clicked the buckle in place.

  “As soon you’re ready, princess,” Silas urged, tapping his sandal into the ground.

  Eve, in a dramatic and drawn-out performance, slipped one arm through the armhole and then the other, wincing a bit as each part of the jacket touched her bare skin. She pulled the zipper up, having to tug it with a bit of added force to get it over her breasts. Eve then snapped her legs together, stretched her arms out to the sides and took a bow.

  “The princess is now ready,” she declared as she tipped her chin and nose into the sky.

  Silas took her into a playful headlock and messed her hair with his palm.

  He then released her from his hold. “You’re a pain in my butt. You really are. You know that, right? I know you know that.”

  Eve just smirked and raked her fingers through her hair. “Ugh! You messed my hair up!”

  Silas, Eve and Hazel continued down the overgrown path toward the dock. It was already hot even though it was early in the morning. There was an acerbic but still captivating odor of earth and grass drying in the sun. Eve’s glossy hair swayed back and forth as she walked, glimmering sporadically as it caught the sun.

  When they reached the dock, Silas hopped straight into the boat. With one leg in the boat and the other stepped up onto the dock to stabilize the swaying, he reached his hands out to help the girls in. Hazel joined first, paying careful attention to her feet but self-conscious about displaying even a trace of uneasiness. Eve followed next, with another dramatic display of precisely placed feet and hands and squeals. There was something admirable about how free and accessible Eve made her discontent. She was so bold and open with it. She wanted her thoughts and feelings out there for the world to see. For Hazel, those reactions were far too precious, far too private, to expose to anyone, let alone everyone. She used to feel she could show her mom, but her mom had other priorities now. And even if Hazel did share how she felt, she wouldn’t get anything in return. So she kept all of her feelings close and clung to them with such resolve that no one would even think she had them.

  Hazel followed Eve into position on the back seats of the boat. Eve stretched her leg out casually across the bench and draped her arm along the edge of the boat—a swift, Eve-like transition from the theatrics to such graceful comfort. Silas assiduously fiddled around with ropes and strings and levers, and then sat behind the wheel of the boat and slipped his sunglasses on. He turned the key and the boat began to rumble. The boat drifted slowly away from the dock and the smell of fuel displaced the fresh aroma of summer lake. They were in near open water now, and without even turning around, Silas moved the boat into a different gear.

  The boat suddenly leaped forward. It jerked with such force that Hazel nearly fell over the back. She giggled and grabbed the rail on the edge of the boat to brace herself and looked over at Eve, who was still lying comfortably on the cushions with her eyes shut, enjoying the sun. The thunderous clang of the engine drowned out the sounds of the lake. As they rode across the lake, the nose of the boat rose into the air and then thumped back down onto the water. This repeated over and over with a slightly syncopated rhythm. The rumble of the engine reached its crescendo just as the tip of the boat reached its zenith. Hazel’s grip around the rail relaxed as she became more expectant of the seesawing patterns of the boat beneath her body. She looked over at Eve, who was now kneeling on the bench, her torso angled out over the edge of the boat into the considerable spray fanning out from all sides. Her silken hair thrashed around in the wind and then fell over her cheeks for just a moment before being lifted and thrashed again by another whoosh of air. It didn’t surprise Hazel that Eve looked so effortless. She always did. Hazel’s face, on the other hand, began to feel stiff and ungraceful against the pressure of the wind, and she tucked her knees into her chest and pressed her face into her legs for protection. The vibration of the sea
t beneath her body provided some reprieve.

  After only a few minutes, the sound of the engine faded, and the boat puttered to a stop not far from a small, rocky island. Silas twisted the key to the engine, and the faint chirps, crackles and splashes of the lake became audible once more. Hazel lifted her head up to find Silas rooting around in a compartment in the center of the boat. He eventually hauled a small anchor from the pit and tossed it by its chain over the side. Hazel tilted her body over the ledge to watch the anchor fall deeper and deeper through the clear water, its shape losing its form and wiggling at the edges until it was completely out of sight. Silas declared it a good place to swim, and took his shirt and sandals off. He stepped up onto the bow and dived into the lake. As Silas’s body dipped beneath the water, Hazel noticed a feeling of being left behind creep up through her. It surprised her.

  By the time Hazel had turned to Eve, Eve had already pulled her phone from the pocket of her shorts to inspect. Eve shook her phone again, as if she were shaking an ensnared snack from a vending machine.

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “This place has literally no service.”

  Hazel had learned by now that she need not respond to all of Eve’s grievances. Hazel just let Eve’s words evaporate into the clear air.

  Eve lay back onto the cushion harshly, unzipped her life jacket to expose her slim belly and chest to the sun, and slid her long legs out in front of her. They looked more tanned, and perhaps even a bit more toned, here at the lake. Her breasts were so full and round, even in her supine position. Her hair draped perfectly over the side, still glimmering in the sun. Hazel lay back and observed her own breasts. Gravity had already pulled them flat into her chest. She looked down at her own legs, a little chubby with a stubble of hairs poking out from her skin. She tried to pull one out but failed. She pulled her hair out of her ponytail and shaped it in front of her shoulders. She could see in her shadow that her hair’s awkward waves and thin layer of frizz persisted.