A Boat Made of Bone (The Chthonic Saga)

by Grotepas, Nicole

  He stood and sauntered over, placing his finger against his lip as though he was thinking about it. “Let me see, probably something classy. Sparkly. Maybe some sequins. Perhaps a dress?”

  “Oooh, this is sounding fancy. I like where you’re going with this, but you know what? I really wouldn’t call sequins classy. Sparkly, yes. But . . . classy?” She opened the door and walked into the large closet. It was empty except for one outfit—a white sequined off-the-shoulder dress, with a belt in the middle. She frowned, feeling a kind of dread wash over her, and pulled it off the hanger. “What is this?” she asked, covering her mouth with one hand.

  “Oh come on! You love it, don’t you?” Will said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her close. “Put it on!”

  “Wait a minute, this looks like something Olivia Newton-John wore in Xanadu,” she remembered aloud, still holding onto the outfit while Will tried to twirl her around.

  “You’ve seen Xanadu?” he asked with a laugh.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen it. We watched it during one of our movie nights at work. The guys just made fun of it. Another time we watched The Jazz Singer, the one with Neil Diamond,” she mused aloud. Thinking about that other life in the midst of this place with Will felt strange and disorienting. It made her feel thin, somehow, and detached, like she was being yanked out of the . . . the . . . present? She knew it wasn’t the present. It was fake. All of it. Will wasn’t real.

  And yet . . . normally it felt so concrete and thick around her. Real.

  “I love Neil. Loved him. He was great,” Will agreed, pulling one of the arms of the dress up like it was a dove’s wing. He dropped it. “So? Get dressed.”

  “Does this mean we’re going skating?” Kate asked, not budging, trying to immerse herself back into the dream.

  He let her go and stepped away, making hustling movements with his hands. “You’ll see. Put it on.”

  Audra would love this, Kate thought to herself as she undressed and pulled the dress on. She would freak out and insist on putting on blue eye shadow and feathering her hair. Kate, come one, stop thinking about real life, Kate thought as she studied herself in the full-length mirror on one wall. With a sad smile, she realized for the first time that Audra would love Will, too. She would die over him. She would push Kate toward him and encourage her and tell her that Ty was boring compared to Will.

  “What’s wrong?” Will asked, noticing that Kate’s face had darkened and a frown creased her cheeks.

  “Nothing—it’s nothing. I just, I think you’re great. You’re fun to be with, is all.”

  He laughed, took her by the hand, and pulled her close. Kate blinked, noticing that Will was wearing a polyester suit and his hair—typically flat and straight against his head in a late-fifties style—had gotten kind of poufy and feathery like they were suddenly starring in Staying Alive. He leaned down and kissed her, hard. When she opened her eyes, music was playing and they were standing in the middle of a skating rink. Disco lights twirled around them and people zipped by, skating and dancing at the same time.

  Her pulse fluttered. She loved it, what Will was doing. Taking charge, caring about having these experiences with her, being a man that made her feel like a woman. Guys didn’t do this. Guys weren’t men, though, were they? At best they were men-children. They wanted to be young and irresponsible, and in a way, modern girls let them. Kate had seen enough old movies to recognize the distinctions between the world Will grew up in and the one she lived in, not that Kate was under some sort of delusion that movies represented a super accurate picture of life.

  Anyway, women let men get away with the shit. The lack of courting. The instant sex. The lack of chivalry. Women gave that up when they insisted on equal rights, supposedly, as far as men were concerned. It wasn’t true, though, was it. Women still deserved respect. It was just a mistake, how it all got unraveled and tangled again, rather than ever being deconstructed into something that made sense at all. Someone needed to repackage it and then unwind it all again and make sure certain things stayed in place.

  Oh my crap, Kate thought as she sank into Will’s arms and saw the gleam in his eyes. This place was flashback city. All at once memories of junior high school flooded over her and she was scared witless, feeling the way she had when she longed to go ask the cutest boy in school to skate. This was better, though, because she could tell from the way Will moved with her in bed that he was going to be lyrical on skates.

  “Kate, my sweet girl, let us skate,” he whispered in her ear, pushing away, while keeping hold of her hand and pulling her along beside him. She pumped her legs, feeling unskilled on the skates. The dress billowed around her and she felt a momentary confusion: this should be easy. It was a dream, after all.

  “Wait up,” she called, concerned that this heavenly moment was going to turn into a nightmare. Will slowed and kept his pace even with hers.

  “Take it easy, Kate. Remember it’s just a dream.” His hair fluttered in the air as they spun across the floor, the disco lights flashing off the sequins of the other skaters’ outfits.

  “Right, of course,” she said with an uncomfortable laugh. Finally she felt competent as muscle memory kicked in and she recalled how to balance and move on wheeled shoes.

  “At last! You’ve got it. You’re doing great. This one’s for you, Kate.” He caught her gaze and pointed a finger overhead to indicate the Xanadu love song that began to play. She laughed, trying to keep up with him as he moved and swayed with the song and the lights, spinning expertly across the scuffed floor. Her heart melted at the dedication.

  Is this what romance is? Because I’ve never—I don’t—uh, how? How did a girl respond to romance? She had no idea. She’d never taken part in it. Never. So far Ty had only invited her along to do cool stuff with him. And it wasn’t that she didn’t love hanging out and doing “cool” stuff, because she liked that. But this, this was magical.

  They floated around the rink, twirling and dodging in between the other skaters, chasing, slowing, then spinning around and holding on tight to each other. Will pulled her close and wrapped her arms around his neck as he skated backward. He looked down at her, his blue eyes dancing in the disco lights as he sang, “Why do I feel, so alive, when you’re near?”

  Kate’s heart thudded in response and she bit her lip, wondering if she should sing the part of Olivia Newton-John or simply grin and enjoy his antics. Before she had the chance to figure it out, the song faded to its end and they finished out the tune twirling around each other in the center of the rink.

  Was this heaven? Kate wasn’t brave in real life, not really. She could accuse Ty of not being romantic, could accuse all the men of her generation of not being romantic, and the truth was, Kate was scared of how to handle it. She was also unsure of how she would handle a roller skating date in real life. Sure, she dared to take on a sport like rock climbing as a total rookie and grow and get better, but she did that with her friends. She was comfortable with them. The sole reason Kate was comfortable here, skating with Will, was because the dream gave her courage.

  Or Will did.

  That, and maybe the dream changed her entire personality in some way. After all, how many men would she jump into bed with at first glance? The honest answer to that was zero.

  Will stared at her, his sequined black polyester shirt glimmering in the disco light. His blue eyes were afire. The silliness and fun had slipped from his face. There was a depth to his pupils that swallowed her. “Kate, I—” he said, and halted. Kate could feel the pounding of his unreal, dream-heart beneath his ribs he was holding her so tight. Her own heart mimicked it, thundering like a timpani through her bones.

  “What?” she asked, breathless.

  He blinked as though fighting his way through a fog. Instead of speaking, he leaned down and kissed her.

  It was a kiss that knocked a thousand more dreams free of their cocoons. Memories of former nighttime exploits showered down from the darkened caves of her mind. Kate gas
ped as the relationship she’d formed with this mysterious man fleshed out into something even more solid than she’d previously known.

  He pulled away, and licked his lips. “What’s wrong?” he asked, staring at her.

  “I just—I just remembered you. More, I mean. I remember more dreams,” she said, gasping for air. The weight of those memories crushed down on her.

  “We have a long history, you and I,” he said. “But for now, let’s just skate and pretend it will last an eternity.”

  Another disco song had already begun, and as Kate’s head returned to her surroundings, she immediately recognized Barbara Streisand (or as Kate like to think of her, Babs) and Barry Gibb singing one of their duets. Will smiled and zipped away, chugging his arms along to get going fast. Kate spun in place in the center of the rink, watching him dodge around other couples. She felt a smile tug on her cheeks and her admiration for him grew. Was this the real Will? How different would he be in a real life?

  The sequins on his outfit glittered beneath the disco light. Barry’s voice rained down and washed over Kate like a tsunami as he launched into his part in the song. Will straightened and looked at her. Their eyes met from across the rink and he began serenading Kate. She laughed and skated after him. Soon they rolled along, hand in hand, singing together like some kind of epic romantic comedy that made all the women swoon.

  Kate was into it. Really, really into it. She could be, too, because this was a dream and the people skating around them were oblivious, involved in their own fictions in that strange way of dreams.

  12: Drifting

  Kate walked to work, through the soft golden light of the desert morning. Birds chirped in the trees and she caught the odor of freshly mown grass wafting down the residential street as she crossed it. She passed the Scientology place with its permanent “Now Hiring” sign in the door, past the soup place and a few other odd businesses, and then she was on the commercial block where Suga’s was.

  The entire time she thought about the date she’d had with Will. The skating. The magic of that experience. It was a date, wasn’t it? She looked around, feeling like someone might be watching, reading her thoughts, and judging her for thinking a dream she had with some guy was a date.

  But . . . it was. Whatever was going on was unusual. Or perhaps it happened all the time and people just didn’t talk about it. As far as she knew, everyone had recurring dreams of a sexual nature with the same person over and over.

  She strolled past the adult store and the girl who opened during the week was out front, rolling up the iron gate. Her lip was pierced, her ears were gauged and she was wearing a short denim skirt, fishnet tights, knee-high boots and a pink off-the shoulder shirt. “Hey Rachel,” Kate said.

  “Hi! How’s it going?” Rachel said, turning to show off a face-splitting smile. Rachel’s brown eyes were bright behind her pink horn-rimmed glasses.

  “Great! You?”

  “Bitchin’, you know. The usual,” she nodded and laughed. “Another day another sex-toy sold. Am I right?”

  Kate laughed and blushed. She paused to consider asking Rachel if the girl had ever heard of someone having recurring sex dreams in all her experience at the adult shop, but thought better of it. She delivered a friendly parting wave as she pushed the door to Suga’s open and stepped inside. Ferg was behind the counter, bent over, straightening rows of Game Boy cartridges in the front counter display case.

  “You’re late.” He didn’t look up.

  “By a minute,” she said, unable to keep the appalled tone out of her voice.

  “By three, according to the store clock.”

  “Which runs on what, a battery? My phone, which syncs with Verizon, says by a minute.”

  “The store doesn’t run on Verizon time.” He slid the display door closed, straightened and gave her a serious look.

  “If you want to fire me for it, go ahead.” She stopped dead in her tracks and folded her arms across her chest. She tilted her chin up as though giving him the chance to punch her in the jaw.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Don’t be a jerk.” She swallowed the twinge of guilt for calling him a jerk. He hesitated. There was really no other way to handle Ferg. He looked on anything else as weakness, so she stood her ground until she knew she’d won. With a shrug, Kate continued to the back room and dropped her messenger bag inside.

  When she came back out, Ferg smiled at her. “I’ll let you make it up to me. Go up to Salt and Sugar and get me a large coffee.”

  “You wish.”

  “Please?” he begged, changing his tone and cocking his head to one side.

  “Why don’t you go yourself?”

  “You know why. Emily. She’s there in the mornings. Always. Anyways, look,” he said, holding his hands out in a helpless gesture, “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time about being late. I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them.”

  “Said the Nazi to the Jew,” Kate retorted. Was he really trying to escape culpability?

  He gave her an offended look. “Do you have Jewish blood? Because I do. Don’t make Jewish jokes.”

  “It’s not a joke. It’s a fair reference to the faulty nature of your reasoning.”

  “Calm down, calm down, Kate. Come ‘ere.” He held his arms out, offering a hug. He beckoned with both hands. “Come on. Let’s make up and be friends again.”

  He strolled around the counter and hugged her in front of the endcap display with the store top ten sellers on it. Kate returned the hug without a word, staring at the columns of cellophane-wrapped vinyl. Truth was, Ferg was a great hugger, though she would never tell him—he’d brag to everyone about it. His build was big and barrel-chested. She was sure hugging him was what it would feel like to embrace a bear.

  When he let go, he asked, “Now will you go get us drinks?”

  She grudgingly held out her hand for his money. He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and placed a ten in her palm.

  “For both of us,” he said. “Pour cream in till it’s nice and golden and bring back a handful of raw sugar packets.”

  She nodded and headed out, grateful for the opportunity to not be in the store sparring with Ferg. Sometimes he was a lot to take. And after seeing him glare at Ty over and over again at Lucy’s Saturday night, Kate was still irritated with him. It bothered her that he thought a hug would fix everything. But she didn’t know what else she could make him do. She couldn’t feasibly hold a grudge for too long.

  Her pace was slow heading up the block to Salt and Sugar. She wasn’t in a hurry, nor was she anxious to return to the stuffy store and engage in more pointless arguments with Ferg.

  She took a deep breath and tried to think of something else, about how much she loved summer mornings. Yes. The only thing better was a fall morning, where she could smell winter coming on the chilled breeze. Her brow furrowed as her mind drifted away from that topic, and to how aware she’d become that she wasn’t getting any younger. The summers passed so fast and then fall was here and she began thinking about how hard another winter would be.

  Well, anyway, at least her thoughts were cheerful for a second.

  There was a long line in Salt and Sugar and Kate shuffled to the back of it and looked around. The decor was hip, with comfy yet cool red suede armchairs, bar-stool style seating, and vivid, abstract wall art done by local artists.

  Turned out, Ferg was right. Emily was working today. She had a tie-dyed scarf wrapped around her head and her black dreads poked out the back. As Kate reached the counter, she spotted Kate and smiled, while the jewel in the side of her nose glinted in the track-lights above the bar. “Kate-o, how goes it?”

  “Not bad. You?” Kate’s palm began to sweat all over the ten dollar bill Ferg gave her. She stuffed the money in her pocket. Ordering a drink always made her nervous—the pressure to get everything right was laughably intense.

  Emily nodded. “Splendid. Loving summer. I heard your gig was phenomenal.” She busied herself w
ith restocking the counter-top jar of biscotti from a bag she pulled from under the counter.

  “It was good, I guess.” Kate sensed the line behind her pulsate and sigh with irritated customers. They wanted her to order and cut the chatter. But Kate couldn’t figure out how to cut the conversation short.

  Emily raised one dark eyebrow and asked what she could get Kate. Kate ordered, not mentioning that one of the drinks was for Ferg, but Emily knew and her right eye twitched ever so slightly as she pulled the cups out and poured in the light roast for Ferg.

  When she handed his coffee over, Emily caught Kate’s gaze for a second and Kate saw the fracture of light in her green eyes that confessed her broken heart. “Tell him I said hello,” was all she said.

  “I will,” Kate promised, feeling the urge to tell Emily how great she was and that Ferg was a self-recriminating fool who made dumb mistakes all the time and that it wasn’t her fault because she was amazing. Instead Kate was quiet as she paid and walked away. She went down to the other end of the counter to pick up her latte. She felt the collective exhale from the line of customers behind her as she walked away. Everyone was so impatient all the time. At least she didn’t try to pay with a check.

  Back at the shop, Kate told Ferg again what a loser he was for breaking up with Emily.

  “Was she there?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Kate said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  “How did she look?”

  “How do you think? Beautiful. Amazing.” Kate took a slow sip of her latte and set it on the counter.

  Ferg picked it up and moved it away from the computer.

  Kate rolled her eyes. He was particular about where they put their drinks. Claimed that in the past people had spilled beverages on the keyboard. Kate had her doubts, since their keyboard came from the prior century, at least.

  “Did she ask about me?” he questioned, trying to be casual about it.