A Thousand Shades of Blue

by Robin Stevenson

  Tim takes about thirty seconds to pick out a pair of black swim trunks. He waits for a while as Mom and I browse; then he hands his trunks to Mom and says he’s going for a walk.

  Mom hesitates. “Don’t go too far.”

  He rolls his eyes, and again I have that realization that he’s growing up. He doesn’t have a little boy face anymore.

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  Mom buys herself a navy and turquoise one-piece.

  I try on about twenty bikinis and finally choose one.

  It’s dark green with white edging and thin white straps.

  I love it.

  “You look gorgeous,” Mom tel s me.

  I turn around, eyeing my reflection in the mirror and wondering if Col will see me in it. I wonder if I’ll wear it anywhere other than the hotel pool. It’s still January. It’s probably snowing back home.

  “Do you want it?” she asks.

  I nod. “Yeah.” In the mirror, I can see her smiling at me, teeth white against her tan. “Mom?”

  “Mmm-hmm?”

  I never thought I’d feel this way, but I miss Georgetown. I wonder if Shared Dreams is back in the water yet, and what Becca is doing, and whether she’s told Col that I’ve gone to Nassau. For most of this trip, I’ve been desperate to get back to Canada, but now I’m not so sure. It’s hard to imagine just sliding back into my old life. “What are we doing now? I mean, are we going to finish this trip? Like, keep sailing together?”

  “Oh, Rachel, I don’t know.” She looks at me. “It wasn’t really going so well, was it? Anyway, you were the one that was so upset about leaving Emma and your friends.

  I’d have thought you’d be pleased to go home sooner.”

  I turn the bikini in my hands, run my fingers along the white edging. If we have to fly back to Canada now, without even saying good-bye to anyone, it’ll feel so wrong.

  Anyway, our house is rented out to strangers for a year.

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  I don’t know where we’d live. “You said we’d go back to Georgetown. You promised.”

  “Well, we will.”

  To see Dad, or to see Will? I don’t ask. “When, though?”

  She looks irritated. “I don’t know. When I’m ready, I guess.”

  “I don’t get why you wanted Tim and me to come with you.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You wanted to get away to think. Anyway, you took off for the whole morning without even telling us. So obviously you want to be alone.”

  She folds her swimsuit over her arm and heads toward the counter. “Well, I didn’t want to be worrying about you two. I suppose I thought you’d be safer here with me.”

  “We were safe enough in Georgetown.”

  “Please. Tim ran off to look for a drunk old man and you…” She breaks off. “How old was that guy you were with? Your dad said…”

  “Twenty-five.” My cheeks are getting hot. “I know that’s older than me, but it’s not like there’s been anyone around who’s my age.”

  “See, that kind of logic is exactly why I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you there.”

  “What does that mean? You haven’t even met Col and you’re making these judgments.” The girl behind the counter isn’t much older than me. Her face is round 207

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  and sort of shiny, and I can see that she’s listening to every word. I lower my voice. “That’s not fair, Mom.”

  “I don’t need to meet him,” she says. “He’s twenty-five.

  You’re sixteen. Doesn’t that say it all?”

  “No, it says nothing. We’re two people, Mom, not just numbers. Not just our ages.”

  She shakes her head and looks sympathetic, which infuriates me. “Honey, maybe you think you have something special with this guy, but any twenty-five-year-old who’s spending his time with a sixteen-year-old is…wel , let’s just say, his motives might not be exactly pure.”

  I feel like she’s punched me in the stomach. For a moment, I can hardly breathe. Lots of girls. Lots.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I say. I look away from Mom and gaze past her at the racks of clothes. Everything is a blur of color. Maybe it was like that. Maybe that’s all it was to him.

  I bite my lip, hard. I don’t want to cry.

  “Rachel, I want you to be safe and happy. That’s al . I don’t want to see you taken advantage of. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Col didn’t hurt me,” I say. “You did.”

  She looks shocked for about half a second. Then her expression changes to annoyance. “I’m only pointing out what would be obvious to anyone with an adult perspec-tive. Which you don’t have. And which a twenty-five-year-old most certainly should.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” A cold fury is filling my belly, rising up my throat, pounding in my head. I raise my voice, throwing the words at her like sharp little rocks.

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  “I mean you and Wil . That’s what I mean. You screwing around with that asshole Wil .”

  Behind the counter, the girl’s eyes are practically popping out.

  Mom just stares at me. Her face turns white; then the color rushes back and her cheeks are stained with red.

  “Wil ,” she says. “That night at the Peace and Plenty, when you were so rude to him…I wondered.”

  “We saw you,” I say. “Tim and me. We saw you with him.”

  She doesn’t say anything right away. Then she shakes her head like she can’t believe what I’m suggesting. “Rachel, I don’t know what you think you saw, but before you jump to conclusions…”

  She’s still lying to me. “You were kissing him,” I say.

  “He was naked and had his hands on your ass, okay?

  I didn’t have to jump to anything. It was pretty obvious.”

  I start to cry. “Stop pretending. I hate it. Don’t lie to me.”

  The girl behind the counter is staring openly now, lips slightly parted.

  Mom stares at me for a long moment. Then she walks over to her and drops the swimsuits on the counter. “On Visa,” she tells the girl. Her voice is as clear and sharp-edged as broken glass.

  The girl rings our purchase through without a word.

  She keeps peeking at me. I bet she can’t wait to call her friends and tell them all about it.

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  Mom and I walk back to the hotel, neither of us saying a word. My mind is racing. Even though I knew the truth, I was hoping she’d deny it. That we could go back to the way things were and pretend it never happened.

  We walk up the flight of stairs to our room. Tim’s there, sitting on his bed reading a book. He looks up, opens his mouth to ask a question and then shuts it again.

  “I guess the three of us need to talk,” Mom says. She sits down beside Tim.

  I don’t sit. I stand there, holding myself tightly. I don’t know how I expected her to react. Shocked, I guess, maybe angry. Maybe ashamed or guilty or scared that I’d tell Dad. Not like this. Not like she’s done nothing wrong.

  “Rachel told me that you saw me with Wil ,” she says to Tim.

  His mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out.

  Then his face turns a blotchy red, and he looks away.

  Mom touches his shoulder lightly; then she folds her hands together in her lap. “Well, I’m very sorry that you two have been upset by this. Obviously I didn’t intend for you to find out in the way you did.”

  “Oh, like there would have been a good way to find out?”

  “Rachel…” Mom’s voice has that I’m-warning-you tone, but I don’t care.

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  “I guess you could have brought it up at dinner one night,” I say. “That would have been nice. Or maybe you could’ve got Will to announce it on the cruiser’s net.”


  She stands up. “I don’t think there’s much point in continuing this conversation.”

  “You don’t?” I stare at her. “You don’t think you at least owe us some kind of explanation?”

  “No, Rachel. I don’t think it’s appropriate that you even know about it.”

  I look at Tim, but he doesn’t say anything. I dig my nails into my palms. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you made out with him in full view of the whole anchorage.”

  Mom’s face is flushed and her voice is clipped. “That’s enough, Rachel. I’m not going to make things worse by discussing it further.”

  I’m so mad I can hardly think. I walk into the bathroom, slam the door behind me and peel off my clothes.

  I can hear her saying something, but I don’t want to listen.

  I lock the door and turn on the shower full force. Then I sit on the bathtub floor and cry. She admitted it. It real y happened.

  The water is so hot, it’s almost scalding. My skin turns lobster red, and the bathroom slowly fills with steam.

  I force myself to sit there and let the noise and heat of the water drown out everything I feel. After a while, I start to feel calmer. I get up and turn off the taps. I dry myself with a big white towel and pull on my shorts and T-shirt. I rub one hand on the fogged-up mirror and peer into the little 21

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  circle of glass I’ve cleared. Two blurry, red-rimmed eyes look back at me.

  I can’t believe she didn’t deny it.

  Sooner or later, I’m going to have to face her, so I force myself to open the door and walk back into the bedroom.

  Mom’s still sitting on the bed, and she has her arms around Tim. He’s crying. I start feeling angry all over again. I want to walk over there and shake her. Him too, for crying and letting her comfort him. Instead I just stand by the bathroom door, watching and feeling like none of this is real.

  Final y, Mom looks up at me. She pushes Tim’s hair off his forehead. “Wel , you okay, Tim?”

  Tim rubs his face with his hands. His eyes and cheeks are all red and puffy. “Sorry,” he says hoarsely.

  Mom’s eyes are shiny with tears.

  I look at the two of them and feel like I’m going to explode. Tim might be ready to forgive her, but I’m not.

  “I’m going out,” I say. I don’t wait for an answer. I just walk out of the room, down the stairs and out into the street.

  I walk until it’s dark. I walk until I feel like I can’t take another step. And then I turn around and walk back to the hotel, because I have no money, and I don’t know anyone, and I don’t know what else to do.

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  When I get back , Mom’s sitting on her bed, leaning against her pillows and sucking on the end of her pen.

  She puts her notebook down beside her as I come into the room. “God, Rachel. You’ve been gone hours.

  I’m glad you’re okay.”

  I give a short laugh. I am so not okay.

  “Can we talk about this?” she says.

  “Where’s Tim?”

  “He went down for a swim.” She pats the bed beside her. “Come on. We have to talk.”

  I stand there with my arms folded across my chest like a shield. “What is there to say? You cheated on Dad.

  With that loser. God, Mom. If you were going to cheat, couldn’t you at least have some taste?”

  “That isn’t real y the point, is it, Rachel? This is about me, not about Wil .”

  “It looked to me like it was about Wil .”

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  her knees. “I am sorry I hurt you and Tim. I guess that explains your behavior lately.”

  “I don’t think my behavior is what needs explaining,”

  I say stiffly.

  “Is that what you want? An explanation?”

  “I don’t know.” I stare down at my feet. My soles are sore from walking so far in sandals, and my ankle has started aching again. “Was it just that kiss or did you actual y have an affair?”

  “Don’t ask me that, Rachel. It’s real y none of your business. And what difference would it make?”

  If it was just a kiss, she would have said so. I wish I hadn’t asked. “I won’t tell Dad,” I say.

  She puts her hands against her face, sighs and slides them down so she’s just covering her mouth and chin.

  “Why are you so angry with your father?”

  I shrug and don’t say anything.

  “You were crazy about him when you were younger.”

  A lot younger. “I know. I’ve seen the pictures.”

  “Rachel.” She sighs and drops her hands to her lap.

  “He may not always be so good at showing it, but he does love you. All three of you. It’s one of the reasons we’re still together.”

  “I didn’t know you were. Anyway, the whole staying-together-for-the-kids thing is overrated if it means we have to listen to you fight all the time.”

  “I didn’t say we’d stayed together for you. I said we’d stayed together because we both love you. It’s a pretty big thing to have in common.”

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  I don’t say anything, and Mom is quiet for a minute.

  “I know you think you’re doing me a favor by saying you won’t tell him,” she says at last. “But I’m going to tell him myself. I’m not asking you to keep any secrets.”

  “You’ll tell him?” I can’t imagine. “What will he…?”

  Her voice is bitter. “He’s hardly in a position to pass judgment.”

  I swal ow hard. I don’t think I want to know what she means. “Mom…”

  Mom closes her eyes for a few seconds. When she opens them again, they are wet with tears. She blinks them away and shakes her head slowly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. Just forget I said that.”

  As if I can. I stare at my mother and feel like I don’t know her at al . “Mom? What happens now? I mean, you said we’d go back to Georgetown after you’d had time to think, but…” I trail off. “Are you going back to see Dad?

  Or Will?”

  “Oh, honey. Wil ’s not important.”

  I don’t understand this. I don’t understand anything about this. My throat aches from trying not to cry. “Why?”

  I say at last. “If he’s not important, then why?”

  She gives this big sigh, like I’m asking the wrong questions. Like it’s all so complicated, and I’m too young and stupid to understand.

  “Is it because of you and Dad fighting?” I ask.

  “Oh, honey.” She spreads her fingers out, splaying her hands over her knees, and stares at them for a long moment. “It’s more complicated than that.” She shakes her 215

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  head, still looking down at her hands. “I wish there was something I could say that would make you feel better.”

  I stare at her. “I don’t want you to make me feel better. I want to know why you did it.” My voice comes out louder and angrier than I expect it to.

  “Why I did it?” She looks at me and shrugs. “Why do any of us do anything? I don’t know Rachel. I don’t know why.”

  I feel like the ground is slipping away. “There has to be some reason,” I argue.

  “You sound like your father. Always so sure there’s a rational explanation for everything.”

  I stare at her. She’s right. “I just want to understand,”

  I say.Her lips tighten. “I’m not prepared to discuss it with you.

  I’m sorry you found out about this, Rachel, but that doesn’t make it your concern. This is between me and him.”

  “You and Will?” I can barely say his name.

  She shakes her head. “Me and your dad,” she says.

  “We’ll talk about it.”

  “Are you going to split up?”

  “I don’t know. That’s somet
hing we’ll have to decide together.”

  I dig my nails into my palms and try to control the wobble in my voice. “How come you get to decide everything anyway? How come Tim and I don’t have any say in this? It’s our lives too. It’s our family.”

  There’s a long silence. Mom beckons to me, but I don’t go to her. I just stand there, all stiff and mad and kind of stuck.

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  She slips off the bed and walks toward me. “Rachel…

  what do you want? What can I do? How can I fix this?”

  She reaches out to me again, but I don’t move and final y she starts to cry. “Damn it. I’m sorry I hurt you. But I’m not going to let you and Tim slip away from me because of this. I’m not.”

  I remember the letter that Tim and I found. Now I feel like Rachel and Tim are slipping away too. But she’s the one who slipped away, not us. I let her put her arms around me, but I don’t hug her back. I can’t. I’m still too angry.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being angry.

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  The next morning, I wake up feeling calmer. Still mad, but that awful anxiety, the buzz and crackle in the marrow of my bones, is silent. Gone. It’s like the worst has already happened. Col probably hates me; Mom’s going to tell Dad about her affair; my parents might split up.

  Everything sucks and nothing makes much sense, but at least there are no more secrets churning around inside me.

  Since we’re stuck here in limbo, Tim persuades Mom to take him to the National Art Gallery. Neither of them expect me to go along. I don’t have anything against art; I just don’t real y get it. Tim can spend half an hour staring at one picture. I think he must see things that I don’t. Mom isn’t into it like Tim is, but she and Dad have always had a thing about Supporting the Arts. Plus I think she feels bad about dragging us to Nassau and then ignoring us. So when they head out, I stay behind and lounge by the pool.

  I slather on suntan lotion and stretch out on the deck chair.

  It’s funny, but we never real y lounged around on the boat. We were always busy fixing things, or snorkeling, 218

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  or doing homework. Neither Tim nor I brought any of our school things to Nassau. Mom doesn’t seem to have noticed.

  I suppose if we’re going back to Canada, there’s not much point in finishing up those courses anyway.