Backcast

by Ann McMan

  Shawn nodded. “That’s the hardest part. Once you get over that hurdle, the rest is gravy.”

  “Gravy I can take.” Darien reached for V. Jay-Jay’s hand and smiled. “But that aspic has to go.”

  Shawn leaned closer to them and lowered her voice. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I think there might be a plan afoot to raid the kitchen later tonight after the party.”

  V. Jay-Jay looked like a deer in the headlights. “Whatever for?”

  Shawn chuckled. “Let’s just say that some of the women have decided to put feet to their prayers and take the inn’s supply of aspic out for a midnight cruise.”

  “Oh, god.” Kate rolled her eyes. “Does Viv know about this? It sounds like they might want to invest in some damage waivers.”

  “Oh, that part won’t be a problem.”

  Kate gave Shawn a dubious look. “Do I want to know why?”

  Shawn beamed at her. “She’s the one driving the boat.”

  “So have you asked her?”

  Barb didn’t have the first idea what Page was talking about.

  “Have I?” She cleared her throat. “Have I asked who about what?”

  Page sighed and pointed at Mavis. “Have you asked Mavis about staying on an extra few days?”

  “Say what?” Mavis lowered her Collins glass.

  “Page thinks we should stay on a few extra days.”

  Page nodded. “So she can rest. She’s been pushing too hard.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me about that.”

  Mavis watched Doug Archer cross the room. He was carrying a pitcher of the blue-black cocktails. Apparently, mixing them one at a time was becoming impossible to keep up with. She drained her glass and gave the rock candy garnishes a shake.

  “Will there be plenty more of these on hand if we stick around?”

  “Of course.” Page reached out for Mavis’s empty glass. “Starting right now.”

  “Then I say why not?” Mavis looked at Barb. “The rest would do you good. You look like shit.”

  Barb sighed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “For the record, Mavis was talking about your appearance—not your work.” Page held up Mavis’s glass. “I’ll be right back with your refill. And Barb?” She gave her cousin a good once-over. “She’s right. You do look like shit.”

  Page strode off to find Doug before he ran out of refills.

  Barb watched her go. “Well, damn.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

  “Me?”

  “You see anybody else standing here?”

  Barb sighed. Then she noticed something that made her brighten up.

  “What is it?” Mavis sounded suspicious. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

  “What look?”

  “That one you always get when my luck is about to take a nosedive.”

  Barb smiled at her. “Time to tend your own panties, Marvin. Your understudy is headed this way.”

  “What?” Mavis turned around just as Montana reached the spot where they were standing.

  “Hi there. Is it okay if I join you two?”

  “Of course.” Barb grinned at the younger woman. “Mavis and I were just talking about you.”

  Mavis muttered something beneath her breath.

  “I thought my ears were burning.” Montana regarded Mavis. “Please tell me it wasn’t anything about that centerpiece.”

  Mavis held up a hand. “I had nothing to do with that.”

  “I didn’t even know that thing was still on the boat. I wonder why Quinn didn’t liberate it at the same time she let Phoebe go?”

  “Who knows why that woman does anything she does?”

  Barb was looking back and forth between the two of them. “I think what Quinn did was profoundly unselfish and shows great depth of character.”

  “Saving the dildo? I think Viv would agree with you on that one.”

  Barb swatted Mavis on the arm. “You know what I mean.”

  “I guess I agree with you.” Montana was taking her time picking her words. “At first, when I saw her leaving the marina on the boat, I was pretty steamed. We’d all worked so hard to get there—and I know we would’ve won—or come darn close. And I knew right away when I saw her leaving what she was going to do. I knew she was headed out to let her go.” She slowly shook her head. “When she got back to pick us up, she didn’t say anything. Not even to the guy who checked us in. He came running out to the boat to find out what happened. I think he knew what we had. I think he knew it was Phoebe.”

  Barb was interested in Montana’s take on what had happened. She’d tried to get Mavis to talk about it earlier, after they returned from their final outing, but Mavis just shrugged it off like it wasn’t an unexpected outcome.

  “Why do you think she did it?”

  Montana faced Barb. Her blue eyes were open and clear. Honest. “At first, I had no idea. But then I thought that probably she just didn’t want to expose her.”

  “Expose who?”

  “Phoebe.” Mavis took up Montana’s narrative. “She didn’t want to hold her up in front of all those people who didn’t give a shit about what she represented. To them, Phoebe was just another roadside attraction—like a bearded lady at the circus, or the asshole who climbs on a motorcycle and jumps thirty cars.”

  Montana agreed. “I think that’s exactly right. I didn’t realize at first that finding Phoebe was like a religious quest for Quinn—I thought she was just a big fish that nobody’d ever caught. You know—the ultimate prize. But when I saw the way Quinn picked her up—like she was some kind of holy relic—I knew that wasn’t it.”

  “Well, that part is sure true. While you were driving us down to Plattsburgh for the final weigh-in, she sat on the floor of the boat beside that cooler like she was watching over the damn Ark of the Covenant.”

  “Maybe she was.”

  Mavis looked at Barb with narrowed eyes. “Don’t start with that metaphorical bullshit.”

  “I don’t have to.” Barb smiled at her. “You’ve already taken care of it.”

  Mavis grunted.

  “You know?” Montana gave Mavis a sad look. “I just wish we’d taken a picture of her.”

  “Why?” Mavis scoffed. “You think the world really needs another picture of a butt-ugly bass?”

  “No. I mean—it would just be nice to have it. You know? So we could remember how it all happened, and what it was like to be a part of something so—I don’t know. So magical.”

  “Magical?”

  Barb elbowed Mavis in the side. “Be nice.”

  Mavis sighed. “Look, little girl. The only thing that makes any experience ‘magical’ is the way you remember it. If what happened out on that water today has real meaning for you, you’ll always be able to see it—every time you close your eyes. You don’t need a photograph for that. In fact, a picture would just make it—ordinary.”

  Barb was moved by how intently Montana was listening to Mavis. It was clear to her that, somehow, these two had formed a connection that was every bit as murky as the one Quinn had developed with the elusive fish.

  “Besides,” Mavis was still talking. “I’m just glad there isn’t any documentary proof of my presence on that redneck barge.”

  Barb rolled her eyes. “You had to ruin it, didn’t you?”

  Mavis smirked at her.

  Barb could tell that Montana was fascinated by the interaction between them. It was clear that she was trying to figure their relationship out.

  That didn’t make her unique. Barb figured that most of the women at this retreat were trying to do the same thing. Hell. It wouldn’t have surprised her to find out that Viv was taking wagers.

  She wondered if Cricket was holding?

  She smiled at Montana. Part of her wanted to take the young woman aside and explain to her that sometimes the best relationships in your life were strange, quirky, and unexpected things that came at you out of nowhere. They we
re impossible to predict, and even more impossible to define. But in the end, you were a lot better off if you didn’t ask questions, and simply gave yourself permission to enjoy the ride.

  She understood that Montana was searching for connection—for belonging—in a world that had always treated her like a misfit. They all were. It was the biggest part of what drove them each to weave their fantastic tales about women and themes that were larger than life. The perversity of it all had been the revelation that their interior lives were deeper, richer, and more multifaceted than any of the stories they published under the various banners that defined traditional lesbian fiction.

  Like most things in life, it was a paradox.

  She looked over at Mavis.

  One of many.

  Quinn was holding Junior’s map up in the blue-white light of the full moon, scanning the night sky for any pattern of stars that matched the one created by the sequence of X’s marking Phoebe’s favorite spots.

  So far, she wasn’t seeing anything that came close. But it was really hard to tell. It was clear tonight, and there were stars out all over the place. Some of them were bright, white dots, rounded and clear. Others were more like tiny pinpricks. Whatever their shape, they were clustered together in great bands that spread out across the dark sky like currents in the water. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t see any combination that looked like the outline of a fish.

  She was standing out at the very end of the dock, surrounded by the water on three sides. As was usual for this time of night, the lake was calm—almost glasslike in its stillness.

  She wondered where Phoebe was right now? Whether she’d tarried in the waters near the shoals, or made off for some other special place? Quinn was pretty sure she was tired from the ordeal of hanging out in the cooler for so long. When she stopped the boat just off Bixby Island and carefully lowered her back into the lake, Phoebe didn’t seem eager to leave. She just sort of hovered there near the surface of the water, slowly twitching her tail fin. At first, Quinn worried that maybe she was stunned or sick from being in the live well for too long. But when she reached into the water to check on her, Phoebe appeared to rouse from her stupor. She flipped her fin and took off like a shot. Quinn stood watching the water until her wake disappeared.

  She knew she’d probably never see her again.

  And in some ways, she understood that she didn’t really need to.

  Still. Standing around at the party and having everyone ask her over and over about what it had been like to catch her—to hold her—had been tough. She didn’t really want to talk about it. She wasn’t ready to. Not yet.

  When Barb showed them the sculptures and Quinn realized that all those little fish replicas had been arranged just like the pattern on her Pisces map, she thought she’d sneak away and come out here to look for the constellation. The stars up here were brighter and more visible than she had ever seen them. Back home in Batavia, there was just too much ambient light from businesses and subdivisions to allow the night sky to reveal any of its mysteries. She’d be leaving Vermont tomorrow after Kate and Shawn’s wedding, so she understood that tonight might be her last chance to get a good look at the cluster of stars that bore Phoebe’s likeness. Maybe one day, after she fixed the Panhead for Big Boy and Junior, she’d have an excuse to come back. And maybe Junior would take her out on the water again—just the two of them this time—so Quinn could maybe catch another glimpse of her. If not? She always had her dreams.

  Sounds of laughter kept drifting down from the restaurant. The party was still going strong. Quinn knew she needed to head back inside and spend a bit more time with the rest of the group. Already, the tournament and the days of preparation leading up to it had kept her from connecting very well with the other authors—except Montana. And Mavis.

  Although Mavis would argue that she wasn’t an author. But when Quinn counted up the tiny sculptures, she noted that there were thirteen of them. That meant that Barb had coerced her into participating.

  Quinn wondered which one of the fish had been hers?

  Her own had been pretty easy to pick out. At least she thought the fish outfitted with razor blades as fins was hers. But she knew she couldn’t really ask. Not tonight. They’d all find out soon enough.

  She scanned the sky again. No dice.

  It was disappointing. She decided to give up on her stargazing for the evening and was halfway through folding up the map when she heard someone approaching. She was surprised to see Gwen coming toward her. She was wearing a loose, white shirt and it seemed to glow and float on the air as she drew closer.

  “Here you are.” Gwen joined her at the end of the dock. “I saw you leave the party and I wondered where you went.”

  Quinn gave her a shy smile. “I thought I’d come out here and see if I could find those fish stars.”

  “Fish stars?”

  Quinn nodded and held out the folded paper. “Like the ones on Junior’s map. They’re the same shape as the one Barb used to arrange the little fish statues.”

  Gwen took the map from her and opened it.

  “You mean Pisces?”

  “Yeah. The fish stars.”

  “You won’t be able to see it tonight.”

  “I know. I’ve been looking for about half an hour.”

  “No. I mean you’d never be able to see it tonight—not this time of year. It isn’t visible in this hemisphere.”

  Quinn’s face fell. “It isn’t?”

  Gwen shook her head. “You’ll have to look for it at the end of winter. During the vernal equinox.”

  “The vernal equinox?”

  Gwen nodded. “In March. One of the times during the year when day is as long as night.” She smiled. “That’s when Pisces comes into view.”

  “Okay.” Quinn was disappointed, but in a strange way, she wasn’t surprised. This all sounded about right. It sounded like a timetable that would work for Phoebe.

  “Two fish moving in different directions.” Gwen handed the map back to her. “Amazing.”

  “Why is it amazing?”

  “Based on what I heard about what you did today, it sounds a lot like you and Phoebe.”

  Quinn shrugged. “I didn’t move away from her.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No. I just let her go.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  Quinn thought about it. Was she moving in a different direction? Maybe. But it wasn’t away from Phoebe. If anything, the opposite was true.

  “I don’t think it is the same thing.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. Everything just feels—more connected. Like I passed some kind of big test, but I can’t tell you what it is. I didn’t even know I had so many empty places inside me until I came here and they got filled up.” She gazed out over the dark water. It was full of light from a million stars. “I don’t think that’s different from Phoebe. Not at all.” She looked back at Gwen. “I think it’s just like her.”

  Gwen didn’t say anything.

  They stood together for a few moments and listened to the soft sound of the waves, rolling in and lapping against the rocky shore.

  Then Gwen reached out and took hold of Quinn’s arm.

  “Walk me back?”

  “Oh. Sure. You want to go back to the party?”

  “Not right away. I think I’d like to walk along the lawn and look at the stars.” She smiled at Quinn. “Keep me company?”

  Quinn glanced out at the lake. Somewhere below the surface, Phoebe was moving through the dark, deep water, marking time and keeping her eternal vigil. Quinn knew she’d always be there, through a hundred lifetimes. And that all she had to do to see her again was watch the night sky, when winter turned into spring.

  She tucked the map into her pocket and closed her arm around Gwen’s hand.

  “I’d really like that.”

  They moved along the gently rolling dock, floating on a swath of silver moonlight that carried th
em away from the water toward the safe haven of land.

  Essay 13

  I never really thought of myself as an immigrant. Not in the way my great-grandfather and his brothers were immigrants. When they grew sick and weary from lives that promised no more than growing old working the slate quarries that lined the Bristol Channel, they packed their few belongings and left Wales. It didn’t matter to them that to afford the passage, they had to convert to Mormonism and promise service to the church when they arrived in Zion—what the church called its settlement in the new world. That part seemed easy. To them, anything seemed easier than long days spent hanging from ropes, pounding stakes into the hard shale and volcanic ash walls of pits that had taken eons to form.

  When they got to America, two of the brothers quickly chose to disappear into the coal mining hills of Pennsylvania and West Virginia. They wanted to pursue their own dreams of happiness and prosperity, and they believed they knew more about how to find them than some crazy prophet who fled western New York with nothing but delusions and a bag of seer stones. One of them, however, remained true to his newfound faith. He took most of his meager savings, bought a handcart, and joined a small “company” of Mormon pioneers who pulled their wagons across an overland trail that led to the Salt Lake Valley in Utah. More than sixty thousand members of the Latter Day Saints made that arduous trek to their new promised land, and my great-grandfather was one of them.

  His life in the new Zion was a simple one. He married, raised a dozen children, lived his faith, and made his living as a stonecutter. My grandfather followed in his footsteps, and became renowned for his skill as a master stone carver. Some of his greatest works adorn the east and west towers of the great Mormon temple in Salt Lake City.

  My father chose a different path, but one that still harkened back to the family roots. He made his fortune managing a stone quarry that became the state’s leading purveyor of fine granite and quartz. In the summer months, my brothers and I would work in the company showrooms, leading homeowners and interior designers past great slabs of polished rock that were propped up on huge wooden easels in the warehouse. We grew up understanding that we were expected to take our rightful places running various aspects of the family business.