by Lise Saffran
“Nasty.” Ariel sipped his wine. “And cheap.” He crossed his legs at the thigh and bounced his foot, on the end of which perched a maroon slipper-like shoe, on the verge of falling off. “You come visit me and I’ll take you to see the real Capitol Hill.”
It was fully dark now and above their heads a moth hurled its small body at the dim uncovered bulb that shed light on the porch.
Frankie rested her chin in her hand. Her eyes kept drifting in the direction that Lilly had gone, but she was clearly interested. “Like what?”
“We’ll go see a show at the Egyptian Theater, for one. Stroll down Belmont Street. Sip cappuccinos at the Espresso Vivace Sidewalk Bar.” He winked at Jenny. “Decaf.”
“When?” Frankie’s voice lifted. “When can we do that?”
“I’ll take you to Cal Anderson Park for a picnic. There are the most delicious men there on weekends, playing Ultimate Frisbee. A little hairy sometimes, but with nice legs. They jump a lot. Like terriers.”
Frankie clapped her hand over her mouth.
A faint alarm went off inside Jenny at the hope and eagerness in Frankie’s voice.
Jenny cleared her throat. “Frankie, I …”
Frankie shot her mother a look that could have peeled paint off the hull of a boat.
“Fine.” Jenny stacked their plates and stood up.
“I’ll help,” said Trinculo, hopping out of his chair and opening the door.
“Would I stay with you?” continued Frankie. “In your apartment?”
“I can imagine that you would look great dressed up to go dancing,” said Ariel. “A little leather. A lot of black.” He lifted the hem of her sweater. “Get rid of these old hippie rags, no offense.”
The door swung shut behind them and the voices of Ariel and Frankie, the croaking of the bullfrogs, and the distant sound of the occasional car speeding up to enter the curve in the two-lane road at the end of the drive faded away against the hum of the refrigerator and the bright lights of the kitchen. Jenny carried the plates to the sink and turned on the water. Trinculo came up behind her and ran his hands over her rib cage until they met just under her breasts. He rested his chin lightly on the top of her head. She leaned back into him for just a moment and drew comfort from the unaccustomed feeling that her circle of arms was not the strongest in the house. She allowed herself the luxury of feeling small. And then, even though Lilly’s room was silent and dark, she wiggled from his embrace and began to rinse the dishes.
The screen door swung open and Frankie, on her way to the bathroom, paused to look at her mother and Trinculo in the kitchen. Her eyes lingered on Jenny for a long while and the expression in them was not anger, as Jenny might have expected or even welcomed, but simple bafflement.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were so sad and I didn’t want … well, I was afraid that …” The words died in Jenny’s mouth.
Frankie pulled her sweater tighter around her and disappeared behind the bathroom door.
“We should go,” said Trinculo softly.
Jenny nodded. “I’ll get you your coat.”
CHAPTER 13
Set Caliban and His Companions Free
The outdoor stage in Roche Harbor was perched at the bottom of a grassy hill. Lights swung from the trees around the stage and the lawn was packed for Props to You’s last free performance of the year. Tourists and islanders alike crowded the slope on deck chairs and blankets and even bed and couch pillows dragged from the faux New England time-shares and the big white Hotel de Haro. Many were seeing the production for the very first time.
Some, mostly islanders who had taken the cast members whale watching on their boats, or rented their extra cottages to them or served them meals at the Backdoor Kitchen or Vinny’s, were present at the show for the second or even the third time. They sighed when Miranda walked onto the stage in her tattered gown and laughed when Trinculo first appeared, in anticipation of his pratfalls. The stars popped one by one into the sky above their heads and the audience watched the show rapt and melancholic because this was the end.
The last scene belonged to Prospero, and he took the stage alone. The stars glittered above Roche Harbor and, unnoticed by the crowd on the lawn, the water of the bay kissed the hulls of the boats in the dark. People gripped their blankets tighter around their shoulders and mothers shifted sleeping children on their laps. The wistfulness of a good portion of the crowd resonated with the actors who waited backstage listening to Prospero give his final monologue. Peg beamed. Chin in hand, Frankie sat on the barrel from which Trinculo and Stephano had drawn their imaginary wine. Miranda and Lilly distributed clove cigarettes to be smoked directly after the final bow. Tears ran down Caliban’s cheeks. Ariel and Ferdinand hovered closely together to one side. Not touching, but closer than they had been in days. Jenny and Trinculo stood to the side and, partially obscured by the curtain, held hands.
Now my charms are all o’erthrown,
And what strength I have’s mine own,
Which is most faint. Now ’tis true,
I must be here confin’d by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got,
And pardon’d the deceiver dwell,
In this bare island by your spell,
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be reliev’d by prayer,
Which pierces so, that assaults
Mercy itself, and frees from all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon’d be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
Those who had seen the play most frequently and read it before then mouthed some of the words along with Prospero, who stood alone on the stage facing the audience for this last speech. But even those audience members, being spectators and not cast, missed some things that the inner circle did not. No one but those in the company had noticed that one of the spirits sang in a voice that was more wavering than usual and that she kept throwing despairing glances at the crowd as if searching for someone who was missing. They might have heard, because gossip on the island was a major pastime, that Lilly had had a crush on Trinculo or perhaps even that the Big Rock had sported a brief and mysterious message, but only those who were on or in back of the stage knew the details of the search for her on Waldron.
Many of those new friends and lovers (rumor had it that Caliban had had some success with the owner of the bead shop) would be around the fire at Dale and Peg’s tonight. As was often true for the final party, there might be close to a hundred people trampling the grass, snacking in the kitchen, drinking and smoking by the cars, and singing around the fire.
For days afterward shopkeepers and innkeepers, whale watching captains and real estate agents, schoolteachers and pot farmers, would bump into each other and ask, “Were you there?” For most people the answer would be yes.
“Congratulations! Well done.”
“Best year yet.”
“You guys were magnificent.”
“Thanks. It was a lot of fun. Thanks so much.” Jenny returned to the circle around the fire carrying a cup of Peg’s now-famous mulled wine that was full enough for her and Trinculo to share.
“I’m going home for a while,” said Ferdinand, in response to Stu’s question of where he was off to now that the play had ended. “To Ohio.”
Ariel slung his arm around Ferdinand. “He’s taking me home to meet the parents.”
Ferdinand could not keep the look of horror off his face.
“Just kidding,” said Ariel, letting his arm fall back to his side.
Stu turned to Ariel. “Well, what about you? What’s next?”
“New York. I’ll be auditioning for t
he part of Paolo in a new pilot.” He smiled wickedly. “He’s a Brazilian con man.”
Trinculo said, “You can stay with me while you’re there, if you want.”
“In your bed?”
“On the couch.”
Miranda reached her hand into the bag of sunflower seeds that she and Lilly were sharing. “I’ve got another Shakespeare gig. In Cedar City, Utah. I’ll be Desdemona in Othello.”
Chad looked at her with naked adoration. “You’ll be great at that.”
Lilly spit a shell into the fire. “I’m going to college.”
“Really?”
“What?”
“Where?”
At least three people who had known Lilly since she was a toddler turned to her in surprise.
She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t act so shocked, people. It’s junior college, not Harvard.”
“You could go to Harvard, if you wanted to,” said Jenny. “You’re smart enough.”
Now it was Lilly’s turn to look shocked. “Do you think so?”
Jenny nodded.
Lilly’s backpack was propped against the wall in her room and nearly full already, though she wasn’t scheduled to go for a week. Elliot had offered to drive her to Seattle and from there she would take the bus to San Francisco. Sue would drive her the rest of the way to Marin.
Sally said, “And I, alas, will return to slinging salmon steaks at the Backdoor Kitchen.”
Caliban patted his stomach. “It’s excellent salmon.”
Trinculo leaned in and whispered into Jenny’s ear, “I’ll come back in a month if I don’t get the part in that off-Broadway show. If I do, then I’ll come just as soon as it closes.”
“That would be great,” she said aloud. To herself she added, we’ll see. But the uncertainty of it did not bother her as much as she might have thought. There were some things about her pre-show life that she missed. The early mornings on her loom, the quiet afternoons in the store with Mary Ann, even the empty winter beaches. During the off-season there were always plenty of parking spaces on the streets downtown.
She craned her neck to peer behind Ariel. “Have you seen Frankie lately?”
“She was here a while ago.”
Jenny circled the fire once and then headed for the house. She found Frankie lying on Dale and Peg’s bed underneath a quilt, listening to Miranda’s iPod. She sat down next to her and moved the edge of the quilt aside so that she could see her face. Frankie glanced over but did not take the ear buds out of her ears.
“Heeellloooo iiiiin theeeere.” Jenny mouthed the words in an exaggerated pantomime.
Frankie removed the earphones. “Miranda’s got an eighties playlist. Did you ever hear the song ‘Venus’ by Bananarama? It rocks.”
“Hmmm.” She stroked Frankie’s hair. “What are you doing in here, anyway? I thought you’d want to be outside with everyone.”
Frankie looked past her mother to the wall, which sported a colorful and semiobscene Tantric wall hanging. She glanced away quickly. “They’re leaving tomorrow,” she said softly. “Well, everyone except for Gonzalo. He’s staying till Thursday.”
“I know.”
“Everyone else.”
Everyone, though she did not say it, meant one person primarily. Ariel.
“I know it’s hard, hon.” Jenny kicked off her shoes and swung her legs onto the bed next to Frankie. “Hey. I forgot to tell you. Eloise Harris, you know, the one who has the clothing store on Shaw? Well, she took ballet all the way through college. She even danced in a city company for a while, when she was young. She said she’d give you some lessons.”
Frankie shrugged. “If you want.”
“If you want. We’ll go visit with her next week. When everything calms down.”
Frankie did not answer. The bed was soft, and after the cold air and the warm wine it was tempting to crawl under the covers and snuggle up. Jenny scooted closer. Laughter rang from the kitchen and the brief flash of headlights from the field outside shined through the curtains into the room.
“Hey, Mom?”
“What, sweet pea?”
“I’d kind of like to be alone, if that’s okay. No offense.”
Jenny lifted her daughter’s chin to look into her eyes. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she did not know what was going on behind them. Frankie was sad, that was obvious, but there was more to it than simple sadness.
“Do you …” she started to say, but stopped when she saw a look of impatience flutter across Frankie’s face. “Okay,” she said, and kissed her on the cheek. “None taken. I’ll be by the fire if you need me.”
When Jenny returned to the fire, the crowd was two verses into John Hardy. Dale was strumming on the guitar and David was wailing away on the harmonica. Peg had even pulled out an old violin and was struggling to add some fiddle.
John Hardy stood in that old jail cell,
a tear running down from his eye.
He said, I’ve been the death of many a poor man,
but my six-shooter’s never told a lie, lie, lie.
My six-shooter’s never told a lie.
“Oh, good,” said Mary Ann when she saw her. “We’re desperate for a soprano.”
Jenny tried her best, but she didn’t feel like singing. There was an ache inside her, just under her ribs, and though she was layered in a sweatshirt and fleece jacket, jeans and boots, she couldn’t seem to get warm. She already missed Lilly in Marin, she missed Frankie in the house, and she, too, was already missing these people around the fire with whom she had spent the last weeks: practicing, eating, laughing, gossiping, playing Frisbee, and, finally, over the course of fourteen magnificent nights, performing.
She glanced at Trinculo’s profile and remembered how she had first glimpsed him in the store with Ariel, and later around the fire, with Lilly. Oh, Lilly. Miranda, who had been so very pale when she arrived, was now the gold of a marshmallow that had been swept over the fire. Frankie was not the only one who was bound to feel a little lost tomorrow, when the ferry carried them all away. Jenny imagined that she, too, even worse than in years before, would wander the house in a daze and go through the motions at work in a kind of nostalgic fog. Trinculo leaned in to her, touching her fingertips with his own. She snaked her fingers through his. Yes, she decided, it would be much, much worse than last year. She and Frankie would have to console each other.
“It’s my last night,” whispered Trinculo.
Jenny feigned surprise. “Really?”
“Oh c’mon. What do you say?” She had not once, since they first got together on Waldron, let him stay over.
Jenny imagined waking to the sound of the birds and finding him still in her bed and she found she wanted that to happen. Very much. She said, “I can’t. I’ve got a full house.”
“I know.”
He turned his body toward her and tucked his chin under her hair, by her neck. She laughed at the sensation of his burrowing, like a horse after a small golden apple. He raised his mouth to her ear. “Then what about sneaking off with me behind the barn. For old time’s sake?”
She whispered back, “I’ll go first.”
Jenny left the fire circle in the direction of the barn. She knew that no one, certainly not Mary Ann or Dale, David, or Phinneas would be fooled when Trinculo left a few minutes after she did, but at least she would not have to be there to watch him go.
The party lasted until Peg told them all to go home. Although they were scheduled to see the actors off on the late morning ferry, Lilly hugged and kissed everyone with great ostentation before driving out to the lighthouse to hang out with some of her high school friends until the wee hours of the night. Frankie, being asleep, did not have to say good-bye to anyone. Jenny drove the car right up to the door of the house and David deposited Frankie, still wrapped in the quilt, in the backseat. The moon was full and so the dark island roads were illuminated from above and the porch steps, though they had forgotten to leave a lamp on, were bright
with reflected light. Jenny led a groggy Frankie through the quiet house and pulled off her shoes before tucking her, fully clothed, into bed.
She glanced at her watch. It was one-thirty in the morning. The morning of the day they were leaving. Certain she would not be able to sleep herself, Jenny padded to the kitchen in her socks and poured herself a glass of wine. She dragged the afghan off the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. She sat in the wicker chair on the porch, Ariel’s chair, and listened to the bullfrogs’ calls of lust and longing until the moon retreated and dawn started to lighten the sky.
CHAPTER 14
With Love in Her Eyes and Flowers in Her Hair
Lilly’s bed had not been slept in by morning, but that was not unusual. Jenny figured she’d make it to the dock to say good-bye to the actors. Or she wouldn’t, and that would be all right, too.
Jenny was surprised, however, that Frankie did not want to take the ride into town to see the ferry off. She burrowed under the covers so that her hair was just a tangled nest on the pillow. “My stomach hurts.”
Jenny pressed the back of her hand against Frankie’s forehead. Her skin was cool. “Is it your period?”
“Mom.” She turned away from Jenny and mumbled. “I think it might be my appendix.”
“Which side?” asked Jenny.
Frankie appeared to hesitate and then raised the blanket and gestured toward her right hip.
“It’s not your appendix,” said Jenny. She made her tea and brought her a hot water bottle. She cracked the window to let the fresh air in.
“I’m cold,” said Frankie.
Jenny closed the window again. “I told Ariel and the others that we’d come see them off.”
“And Trinculo.”
“And Trinculo.”
“You can go, if you want. Tell them I’m sick.”
It was a cool overcast morning and Jenny had put on her winter jeans. She stood and gazed at the blanket-covered lump that was her daughter, considering. She dug both hands down deep into her pockets. With the tips of her fingers on her right hand, she touched cool metal.
“Hey, look what I found.” She held the silver dolphin charm out toward the bed.