by Al Riske
I asked Sara if she was wearing her Chanel No. 5—the scent that inspired my birthday gift to Nicole.
“I put on too much, didn’t I?”
“No, no, I want to smell it. Come here.”
She gave me a quizzical look but leaned close enough so I could inhale the fragrance. Just as I remembered it. Then I turned back to Nicole for comparison.
“It’s not the same,” I said.
Nicole, no doubt, was slightly offended, though that wasn’t my intention. She shifted uncomfortably and seemed as if she wanted to defend herself somehow.
Sara sat down and tried to tell me how perfumes interact with each person’s body chemistry.
Luke poured wine for Nicole.
“Let’s see,” he said. “Oh, you’re right. It is different. I like it better on Nicole.” He was almost nuzzling her now. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s nice.”
“Alright,” Sara said. “That’s enough of that.”
MIXING DRINKS IN the kitchen, Luke said, “I like Nicole. You guys make a great couple.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely.”
LATER THAT NIGHT, I came out of the bathroom to find Nicole standing next to the dresser in a cream-colored chemise. She had a curious look on her face.
“What is it?” I said.
Nicole held her finger to her lips and leaned one ear to the wall. She signaled me to do the same.
I could hear Luke’s voice quite clearly now:
“Oh no you don’t. Sara, stop that. I told you—no more. I don’t want you to do that.”
Teasing, Sara said, “Do what?”
“You know what.
What you’re doing right now.”
“What am I doing?” “Don’t, I said.”
ON OUR FIRST night here we had both been worn out from a long work week and a long drive, but I thought this might be the night that Nicole and I took our relationship to the next level—especially given her curiosity about what was happening next door. Come to find out, though, she was having her period.
IN THE MORNING, Sara told me that Luke’s flirting with Nicole made her jealous.
“You know how insecure I am,” she said. “I mean Nicole is so … stacked. And what have I got?”
She looked down at herself and laughed.
She was a beautiful, vain, but self-deprecating woman who claimed her butt was easily as wide as Texas. Her only real flaw was that her nose was slightly out of proportion to the rest of her face, and it wreaked havoc with her confidence. But her nose and her diffidence only added to her charm.
“You’ve got a terrific figure,” I told her.
She touched my hand.
“You’re sweet,” she said. “I wish Luke were more like you.”
Through the window, I could see Nicole sitting in one of the freshly painted yellow rockers on the porch. She had a pair of high-powered binoculars with her and was on the lookout for terns, egrets, and great blue herons. Luke was out there, too, perched on the railing, hugging one knee and chatting amiably.
“They seem to be getting on pretty well out there,” I said. “Don’t you want to go out and break it up?”
“I’m over it,” she said.
I smiled and sipped my coffee.
“What about you? Do you think Nicole is the one?” she asked.
I looked up in surprise.
“Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “You seem ready.”
“I do?”
She nodded.
“What makes you say that?”
“Women can tell.”
If Sara could tell, could Nicole? I wondered.
“What about you?” I said.
Before she could answer, Luke and Nicole came in with plans for a shopping expedition.
AT THE MARKET, we picked up butter, garlic, parsley, lemon, white wine, a pound of shrimp, a box of angel-hair pasta—everything we needed to make scampi.
Sara turned suddenly and bumped into Luke, who was a half step behind her.
“Should we get some rum for later?” she asked.
“You can do anything that you want to do, but uh-uh, honey, lay off of my shoes.”
“Sorry, Mr. Perkins. I’ll try to be more careful.”
“Who’s Perkins?”
“Carl Perkins. He wrote ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’”
“No way. Elvis—”
I said, “Hold on, buddy. I’ve got the matching socks here in my back pocket.”
“No, this time I’m sure.”
Nicole said, “Maybe you two would like to make another wager.”
I raised one eyebrow and fought back a grin. Nicole had this mischievous streak that could show up without warning. I liked that about her. Not always, but most of the time.
“Let’s see,” I said, “what could the stakes be this time?”
“I see what you’re trying to do,” Luke said. “You’re trying to turn our little disagreements into some sort of Hatfield and McCoy thing. Well, we won’t let you do it. Will we, Sara?”
Sara said, “Wanna bet?”
“Now see what you’ve done? I hope you’re happy,” Luke said.
I TOLD NICOLE about the job offer in Phoenix while we were bird watching. She interrupted to point out a songbird—a rose-breasted grosbeak—in an apple tree next to the house. Then she listened politely and even seemed interested—enough to ask a couple of questions anyway.
“Isn’t it really hot there?”
“I’m told they have two types of weather,” I said. “Hot and fucking hot.”
She had this way of smiling and shaking her shoulders in a sort of silent chuckle that made me feel as if I were every bit as witty as I wanted to be.
I didn’t ask if she’d consider moving. “Do you ever get hay fever?” was as close as I came.
LATE IN THE afternoon, Nicole and Sara decided there were too many cooks in the kitchen, so they suggested Luke and I take a walk while they got dinner ready. That sounded good to us, since the rain (just now abating) had kept us housebound all day. We grabbed our jackets and headed down the trail to the beach.
“That Sara would run the whole show if she thought she could get away with it,” Luke said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you know, she wants what she wants, and if she can’t have it—”
“Like what?”
“Like, I don’t know, like the other day when we were clamming: She wanted to drop everything and go have breakfast.”
“That wasn’t such a bad idea,” I said. “At least we would have had more than three clams to eat.”
“Okay, bad example. But that’s what she’s like all the time. She wants things her way—and she’s so goddamn stubborn.”
“And you’re not?”
When we got down to the water, we stopped and watched sea gulls hover in the wind. They were dropping shells on the dock, over and over, to break them open. I’d never seen that before.
“I don’t know why I put up with her—and you don’t have to take her side all the time, you know.”
There was no point asking him about Phoenix; they evidently had some other issues to work out first. It was making me crazy, though. This was a big step for me—a big step up—and having Luke on my team would make me a lot more comfortable.
“Alright. So don’t put up with her,” I said. “You want to break it off? Fine with me.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
It would certainly simplify the decision about Phoenix, but I don’t think that’s what Luke meant. I made no secret of how I felt about Sara, which added a confusing undercurrent to everything.
WHILE LUKE WAS taking a nap on the sofa, the rest of us sat on the porch and enjoyed the view.
“I don’t think Luke’s going to like what I got him for his birthday this year,” Sara said.
“Why’s that?”
“I got him what I wanted: Tickets to see the Daphne
Martin Dancers.”
“Nicole took me to that on our fourth date. Believe me, Luke will thank you in the end.”
“You wanna bet?” Sara asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. What are the stakes?”
She gave a quick laugh.
“Hey, I’m still trying to collect on my other bets.”
“Luke never came through, huh?”
“He keeps trying to get out of it by going double-or-nothing, but he just gets himself in deeper.”
WE WERE TAKING our daily walk along the beach, down by the water where the sand was firm and cool under our feet. A loose affiliation of sandpipers scurried ahead as we came near, finally taking flight out over the waves and reassembling behind us.
“You tell Sara about Phoenix?”
She and Nicole had fallen behind, collecting shells.
“She’s not crazy about the idea,” Luke said.
“What’d she say?”
“She wants to think about it.”
We watched the waves rush in and recede, the sand turning dark, then light again as we walked along.
“She’ll come around,” I said.
“She makes more money than I do, Frank. Why is she going to follow me out to Phoenix of all places?”
“Housing is cheap.”
“Right. And Arizona will be good for her hay fever.”
“It will.”
“It’s not enough.”
“You’re the reason she’ll go.”
“Sure of that, are you?
“Are you kidding? She’s crazy about you.”
“Yeah, crazy like a fox.”
We stopped and looked back. The girls were about a half mile behind us now, still picking up shells, keeping some, discarding others.
“At least she’s thinking about it,” I said. “Do me a favor, though, would you?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t make any bets about Phoenix.”
AFTER DINNER, WE mixed up a pitcher of strawberry daiquiris, and they tasted so good we made another, and another. Sara started singing along to a Go-Go’s CD and got Nicole to join her.
Luke went outside to get some air.
The girls kept singing and dancing until the CD ended.
“Where’s Luke?” Sara asked, suddenly confused by his absence.
I nodded toward the deck.
“I thought he liked the Go-Go’s,” she said.
I said, “Maybe that’s why he went outside.”
Sara punched my shoulder.
“I’ll just go check on him,” she said.
Nicole sat next to me on the sofa.
“Sara thinks you’re sexy,” she said.
“Me?”
“Don’t sound so pleased.”
“I’m just surprised. Why would you think that?”
“Because she told me.” Nicole paused. “Though that’s really no reason to tell you, is it?”
“I think you’re sexy,” I told her.
Even as I said it, I wondered if I should be trying to feed her jealousy—if she really was jealous and not just teasing me—instead of reassuring her.
“You like Sara, though, don’t you?”
“Sure I like her. So do you.”
“Not that way.”
“Well, neither do I,” I said.
“Then why do your eyes follow her whenever she walks across the room?”
“They don’t.”
“No? Just try to stop yourself next time.”
I did, when Sara and Luke came back in—and it wasn’t easy. Nicole just smiled, looking at me through the corners of her eyes. It made me laugh.
“You walk across the room then,” I said, “and I’ll watch you.”
She shook her head.
“Go on. You can get me another drink while you’re up.”
Nicole slipped her arm under mine and snuggled closer.
“You don’t need another drink,” she said.
Sara and Luke did, though, so I very pointedly watched the ceiling fan revolve as they meandered into the kitchen and mixed another batch of daiquiris.
“By the way,” Nicole said, “I told Sara you’re lousy in bed.”
I started to protest but saw Nicole was fighting back a grin.
“That’s not funny,” I said.
“I know.”
She sounded gravely serious; I bit my tongue.
She kissed my ear and whispered, “You can make a liar out of me tonight.”
UNFORTUNATELY WE BOTH had way too much to drink. She passed out as soon as we got into bed and I soon followed suit.
I AWOKE AT 2 a.m. Time to piss away my share of the daiquiris. As soon as I did, though, I felt thirsty again—and hungry. So I stumbled into the kitchen to see what I could find. As I was poking around in the ice box, I suddenly felt something tickle my ear lobe. Then puckered lips pressed against my cheek. I closed my eyes and felt dizzy.
“Phoenix is so far away,” Nicole whispered.
I turned around, a carton of milk in one hand, a plate of leftover crab cakes in the other.
“You don’t really want to move there, do you?”
She came closer. So close that my butt was now on a shelf with the beer and pickles in the fridge. She unbuttoned my pajama top as I looked for some way to set down the milk and the crab cakes.
“There’s so much more for you right where you are.”
“It’s more money,” I stammered.
She pulled the drawstring on my pants.
“Money isn’t everything you know.”
I was feeling a distinct chill and suddenly realized my PJs were down around my ankles. I babbled something even I couldn’t make out.
“We’ve had some good times together. You don’t want that to end, do you?”
She kissed my neck and I closed my eyes. Her lips were incredibly warm and soft and tantalizing.
“So you’ll do it then?”
I didn’t know what she was asking.
“You’ll stay? You won’t move to Phoenix?”
Using just her index finger, she stroked me gently and giggled when I flinched.
“You won’t go?”
She stepped back, let her chemise fall to the floor. Then she was on her knees. I didn’t want to go anywhere and told her so.
“Promise?” she asked.
“I don’t want to go,” I said. “But I do want to …”
Nicole looked surprised, then disappointed.
“You were supposed to promise first,” she said.
IN THE MORNING, Sara and Luke were ravenous and wanted to go into town for breakfast. Nicole was still in the shower, so I went in to ask her what she wanted to do.
She turned off the water, stepped out, and started patting the back of her neck with a thick white towel.
“Are you going to stay?” she asked.
“Actually, I thought breakfast sounded pretty good.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What then?”
“Remember what we talked about last night?”
She had a devilish look in her eyes that made me grin.
“Hey, I didn’t promise anything.”
“Never mind, I bet I can convince you now.”
Nicole stepped closer.
“Is it a bet?” she asked.
“What are the stakes?”
“If I win, you stay in Boston.”
“Hmm, and if I win, you’ll come to Phoenix?”
Nicole nodded.
“But wait, how do I win?”
She held back a laugh.
“You have to last longer than five minutes this time,” she said.
Four and a half minutes passed, and just one question remained.
“Double or nothing?”
Don’t Stop Now
WE SPREAD A blanket off to one side of the boat launch, under some trees. Island Lake, in Shelton, Washington, is surrounded by small private homes, and this is the only public access. Since it’s
still early in the season and the homeowners tend to take the lake for granted, there are no boats or skiers out.
It’s 1972, and we’re both seventeen.
The morning clouds burn off, and by noon it’s getting hot. Using our only utensil, a pocket knife, we cut uneven slabs of salami and spread cheese on bread that tears under the pressure. KJR, Seattle, Channel 95, is playing on my transistor radio.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Leslie asks, as if we’re seven or something.
I know it’s a question I’ll have to think about, seriously and soon, but not right now.
“A fireman,” I say.
Leslie says, “I’d like to be a cop,” and I laugh. Policeman. Fireman. Those are the standards.
“I’m serious,” she says. “My uncle’s a sheriff’s deputy. It’s exciting work.”
AT TIMES I don’t know how to act around Leslie. She always seems so sure of herself. Always has an opinion. Always speaks her mind. I like that, and then again I don’t.
She tells me stuff that changes everything.
“I have a confession to make,” she once said. “I always wished I were a boy.”
LESLIE POLISHES OFF a second sandwich and peels off her jersey, revealing the small, breast-squeezing top of her swimsuit.
“So why are we hiding in the shade?” she asks
We pull our blanket into the sun and I take off my T-shirt, sneakers, and socks. But we only sun ourselves long enough to break out in a sticky sweat before Leslie sits up suddenly.
“Race ya out to the island,” she says.
“You’ve gotta be kidding. Do you know how far that is?”
“How far?”
“I don’t know. Far.”
“C’mon, I’ve never been on an island before. Don’t you wonder what’s out there?”
I look at the island, a stand of trees and brush in the middle of the lake. There doesn’t seem to be much on it, but I am curious.
“How are you at rescuing drowning swimmers?”
“No one’s going to drown,” she says.
“Well …”
I’m thinking about the time, ten years earlier, when I nearly drowned, but that was in the ocean. The lake seems less foreboding.
“Last one in’s a rotten egg.”
Leslie jumps up, shucks her cutoffs, and runs into the lake, diving when she’s knee deep. Then she’s gone, under the water, long enough for me to notice the silence.