Of course, the rest of the huge chamber continued to be a dismal wreck. At the rate we were going, I calculated that the work would probably be done in time to celebrate my thirtieth birthday.
On Wednesdays and Sundays, Aunt Agatha left for the theater at noon. Sundays, Axel came to keep me company, and I put him to work, too. On Wednesdays, Craig was there, so I wasn’t.
One Wednesday, three weeks after Aunt Agatha went back to work, I followed her down the dock to the parking lot.
“Where are you off to, love?” She knew I never stayed on the barge with Craig. I’d told her I didn’t enjoy trying to hold an intelligent conversation with him, and she’d laughed and said that she understood.
“I don’t know … probably Axel’s.”
“You see so much of him.”
“Yeah?”
“I’d like to meet this young man you spend so much time with.”
“I told him. It’s just … he’s shy, I guess.”
But I really wasn’t sure why Axel avoided Aunt Agatha.
“Strange,” Aunt Agatha said as we reached her car—an old, battered Volkswagen Beetle. “But what in life isn’t strange?”
Not much.
Certainly not Aunt Agatha’s car. The word battered didn’t even begin to describe it. Its powder blue body probably had more dents than its odometer had miles. The front bumper was tied to the car with thick orange rope. But the worst thing, in my opinion, was that the upper half of the passenger seat was totally gone. She’d removed it to make room for the long pieces of wood paneling for the barge that she’d transported herself, one stack at a time. (Apparently, Aunt Agatha hadn’t heard of U-Haul.) And only the bottom of the rear seat remained. Besides that, the wooden boards had also poked a rather large hole through the passenger floor.
I found this out when she took me out one morning to buy groceries.
“Hang on, love!” she shouted above the broken muffler whenever she had to make a turn. I had to clamp my hands down on what was left of my seat and prop my feet against the dashboard, all the while wondering what I’d done to deserve this.
Luckily, I didn’t need to travel much with Aunt Agatha.
As I walked her to her car, she looked around and frowned. Her car was parked in a legitimate spot near the barge at the boatyard, but someone had parked a red Oldsmobile right behind her, boxing her in so she couldn’t back out from the space.
“How will I get to work?” she asked, sounding a little desperate.
A tall, burly, bearded guy walking by overheard her and asked, “Need some help, ma’am?”
“I don’t know how you can help me, dear heart, unless you can lift my car out of there.”
“Be right back,” the man said, then headed off behind some scaffolded boats. He returned quickly with three equally tall, burly men.
“We need to rescue this lady’s car,” the bearded guy told his friends, pointing to the blocked-in VW.
The four men each bent down at a corner of the car. Then they lifted it together, effortlessly, kicking through pebbles as they carried it right up and over the offending Olds.
Then they set it down—crrrunnnccchhh—in the gravel.
“Dear hearts, how will I ever repay you?” Aunt Agatha asked, shaking their hands.
“That’s what we do around here, ma’am. We help each other out,” said the bearded guy. The other three nodded.
“I’ll remember that,” said Aunt Agatha. She gave me a kiss and popped into her VW. The engine roared. “Toodle-oo, chums!” she yelled, waving to us as she zoomed away, her muffler puffing out a black cloud in her wake.
* * *
“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested to Axel.
“Not much room to walk around here without banging into boats on stilts,” he said. We were sitting in his galley, as usual, and I was getting antsy. I wanted to roam.
“No, I mean, let’s walk around the neighborhood.”
Axel leaned forward, stretching his arms across the table almost like he was going to grab me. “No way. Forget it,” he said.
“Oh, come on. Don’t you want some exercise?”
“Not that badly.” He gave me that look. “Seriously, Willow. Not a good idea.”
Of course, this made me want to go even more. As Aunt Agatha always said, opposition breeds opposition.
“I wasn’t asking for your permission. If you don’t want to go, I’ll go without you.”
“Oh, no, you won’t.” His voice had that firmness to it now that made me determined.
“Watch me,” I said.
I got up, headed up the ladder to the deck, then down the ladder to the dock, all without looking back. I went up the dock, through the parking lot, to the gate. I wondered if he was behind me, but I refused to look back and check.
The minute I stepped through the gate into the street, I regretted my hasty decision. But I couldn’t turn back. I mean, I could’ve. But I wouldn’t let myself. I was being stubborn—very stubborn.
I decided I’d circle a few blocks and stay out for only about fifteen minutes. That’d be enough to make my point to Axel.
I walked along, squinting in the strong, hot sun. Sweat formed under my bangs and on the back of my neck under my ponytail.
The neighboring houses were so sad. They looked like they’d never been inviting, and now time had really done them in. Their paint was faded or missing in patches, shingles were hanging off at an angle or gone, and the top layers of roof shingles were ripped off, leaving their black undercoating exposed. And those were the good ones—the houses in better shape.
Others, in worse shape, had broken steps, broken porches, or boarded-up windows. In the entrance to one little green cement house, a sheet hung instead of a front door. You had to guess there were a whole lot of broken lives to go along with those messed-up houses.
There weren’t many people around. Probably at the beach—the one escape they had in this heat. I wasn’t sure if this was good or bad, that I was pretty much alone. But I was leaning toward bad. After all, there’s safety in numbers, and I wasn’t feeling so safe.
Once in a while, I could see a figure leaning in a doorway.
And then, under the awning of a bodega blaring Spanish music, two guys in sunglasses sat on turned-over boxes, drinking malt liquor.
One of them eyed me.
Oh, boy.
I walked faster.
I turned another corner. Halfway down the street, two Latino guys blocked the way. I tried to go around them, but one of them stepped right in front of me, blocking me again. He had a scrawny body and a skinny black moustache, also a goatee. His hair was short and slicked back. He wore a gold chain and a cross that looked like they weighed twice as much as he did.
“Hey, baby.” He reached out and touched my hand.
Excuse me? I flinched, pulled my hand back.
“Whatsmatta, baby?” he cooed at me, revealing a gold tooth. He reached for me again, but I stepped back.
I just stared at him, speechless. I never thought anyone would approach me so directly like this.
“What’s a looker like you doin’ slumming round here? You lookin’ for me?” He moved closer again. I felt his body heat, and I wanted to vomit.
I stared at him a moment longer. Then a voice inside me said, Go. Get out of here, now!
I turned, willing my feet to run without seeing clearly where I was going.
I ran in the direction I’d come from.
And I ran straight into someone else.
“Happy now?” he asked. It was Axel.
I looked up at him. His face kind of swirled around me. Everything was so tense, hot, and blurry that I just couldn’t focus.
He grabbed my arm, pulling me forward. Walking quickly, he hauled me all the way back to the boatyard. In my neighborhood, someone would have called the cops if someone had done that. But here, nobody batted an eye.
By the time we got back, I was thinking and seeing clearly again. My heart was poundin
g hard. I wanted to press my hands against it to hold it in.
Inside the gate, Axel released his grip on me.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, sounding disgusted and waving his hands in my face.
“Who said you have to do anything?” I leaned back into the fence, folding my arms tight against my chest to get some relief. “I’m not your problem, so don’t worry about me.”
He huffed, “I don’t get you, Willow. Can’t you see when you’re in over your head?”
Sure. But seeing it and doing something about it are two different things.
I really was grateful he’d followed me. But damned if I was going to let him know it.
“Guess what, buddy. You left your shining armor back home.”
“You can talk tough, Willow, but I know you’re glad I was there.” He gave me another one of his deep looks. “I know you’re glad.”
11
Claustrophobic
Axel didn’t show up later, and I didn’t care. I’d walked away from him in the driveway without even a look back.
Who needed him, anyway?
I sprawled on the couch and opened Wuthering Heights to page 98, where I’d left off earlier. Midway down the third page, the words blurred. The book thumped on the floor in the distance, like someone else had dropped it.
* * *
My eyes open and try to focus, but there’s nothing to see. It’s dark. So dark. Where am I?
I’m lying with my head on my arm. The pulse beating through my arm distracts me and makes it hard to think. I lift my head and roll onto my stomach.
I spread my hands, feel all around where I’m lying. There’s nothing but floor.
And it’s dark. So dark.
I scramble to my feet and go. But which way? I don’t know. Just out. I want out of this darkness.
I bang into a wall. Oh my God, oh my God!
I go the other way. I smash into another wall. Oh my God, oh my God!
Everywhere, there are walls. I’m in a box. I’m in a box.
There’s no sound except for my heartbeat, racing faster and faster. I’m locked in a box of darkness. Let me out! Let me out!
I throw myself against a wall and bang, bang, bang with my hands.
“Help!”
No one comes.
I’m in a box of darkness, and no one’s coming.
I punch into the wall. Again, again. I kick, kick, kick. My hands and feet throb, but the pain can’t keep up with my terror.
“Help me!” I shout, and then choke down saliva and salt.
I’m shaking, shaking. I collapse to the floor, curling into a ball.
I’m in a box of darkness, and no one’s coming.
I’m in a box of darkness, and no one’s coming.
I’m in a box of darkness, and no one’s coming.
I’m going to die in here.
* * *
My eyes popped open. Where am I?
I jumped up and off the couch. I looked around; I could see. I could actually see.
It’s okay, it’s okay. I know where I am.
But oh my God, I can’t be alone.
Please, I can’t be alone.
The phone. In my suitcase. In the side pocket.
Zzzzip. I dug in, feeling papers, the iPod … then, at the bottom, I finally grabbed it.
8:32 p.m.
I tried to remember what to do to call him.
What do I do? What do I do?
Flick my finger across the screen. That was it. The phone unlocked, and then there were all those choices. Just dial the damn number!
Phonebook.
I hit “Phonebook.”
Axel. It said “Axel.”
I hit “Send.”
It said “Calling Axel.”
Ring, ring.
It said “Connected with Axel. “
“I guess you’re over your fit,” he said.
“Come here,” I pleaded, breathing the words out hard.
“What’s the matter?”
“Please.”
“I’ll be right there.”
* * *
From the front deck, I watched him. Bathed in yellow from the dim mounted lights, he hurried across the dock toward me.
I lost sight of him as he mounted the ladder. Finally, I saw the top of his head, then the rest of him. He hauled himself onto the deck and came to me. He held me, and I threw my arms around him, hung on tight, pressing my head against his cotton shirt. He was so warm. I felt safe with his arms covering me and protecting me.
My heartbeat synchronized with his strong, steady beat. I stopped trembling, relieved at having him so close.
Axel just held me, without asking any questions. He was just there for me. Finally, someone was there for me, without making any demands at all.
* * *
“Thanks,” I said, releasing him from my death grip.
“For what?”
“For coming.”
“It’s my job, remember?”
“I thought your job was to make me smile.”
“Well, you certainly weren’t going to smile in the middle of a panic attack. I had to get you through it.”
We sat outside on the barge’s deck with our backs against the wall and stared at the stars. Another beautiful night.
After a while, he finally asked, “Want to talk about it?”
I drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I have this nightmare sometimes. It used to be all the time; now, not so much. Not for a while, anyway. That’s probably why I freaked like that.” I turned to him. “You think I’m crazy, huh? All this, over a nightmare.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy.” He took my hand. “Tell me. What happens in the dream?”
“I’m trapped in a pitch black box. I can’t see anything.” I shuddered. “I scream, I bang, I kick, but no one comes to help me. I just curl up and die.”
“You die in your dream?”
“Well, no. I just know that I’m going to die. I can feel it. Then I wake up.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could do something about it.”
“It just sucks being alone when … when I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“But you choose to be alone.”
“There was no one there for me at home. The house staff didn’t care about me. My brothers didn’t care about me. My dad didn’t even care about me. Might as well be alone on my own terms.”
I don’t mind being alone,” I said. “Except for Christmas Eve.”
“Why are you alone on Christmas Eve?”
“She waits until that night to go shopping. It’s like Christmas completely slips her mind until the twenty-fourth. She doesn’t even buy a tree before then. So I always end up sitting in front of the TV, watching other families do stuff, deck the halls and whatever.”
“What about your aunt?”
“Aw, she doesn’t do the holiday thing. She just treats it like any other time of year.”
“Wouldn’t she come if you asked her?”
“I don’t know. I never thought it.”
“You should.”
Axel was so sweet. I felt much better, so secure with him there.
I was struck with a crazy impulse. I kissed his cheek. “Make love to me.”
“What?”
“Make love to me.”
“Why would you go and say something like that?” His voice was sharp.
“We’re two lonely, miserable people. We could make each other feel better… . ”
“And when we finished, we’d still be two lonely, miserable people. Sex isn’t a band-aid for our wounds.”
“I want to be close to you.”
“You are close to me. I’ve told you stuff no one knows. Hell, I’ve never even gotten off my boat for anyone else.”
He got up and paced, going from one side of the deck to the other. Back and forth, back and forth.
“Why do you want to have sex so badly? You’re fifteen. You’re still a godda
mn kid.”
“Why don’t you want to have sex? You’re an eighteen-year-old guy. Isn’t it, like, something you want to do all the time?”
Axel didn’t answer. Just paced faster, like a cougar I watched one time at the zoo.
I looked down. “Am I that ugly?”
He stopped pacing and stooped by me. “Willow, you’re beautiful.” He lifted my chin and forced me to look at him. “You’re so beautiful that I couldn’t hurt you.”
Beautiful, my butt. “How is sex gonna hurt me?”
“You’re not ready for it. It’d change you forever. And … you’d hate me.”
“No way.”
“One day, when you understood what I’d done—when it dawned on you, then you’d hate me. You’re fifteen. There’s a reason why they call you underage.”
He brushed my bangs aside and pecked my forehead. “Wait.”
Whatever. I knew all his words were bullshit. I knew the real reason he’d rejected me. It was because I was a dog. A fat beast. An obese hound.
He sat down again.
“You understand, right?”
“Yeah. I understand.”
Suddenly, a voice came out of the night: “Well, well. Who do we have here? Could it be the mysterious Axel?”
Aunt Agatha was back early.
12
Open Wounds
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” said Aunt Agatha. “There was a power failure at the theater during intermission, and the show couldn’t go on.” She didn’t seem too broken up about that. “I must say, I didn’t complain. I’m utterly exhausted!”
“Hi, Aunt Agatha. Yes, this is Axel,” I said. I looked at him, only to find him staring at the goddamn steel deck. We were back to the no eye contact, shy routine.
“Hello, dear heart.”
I nudged him. He shot me an anxious look, but then he got up.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Moon,” he said, standing and extending his hand.
She took his hand in both of hers and shook it vigorously.
Saved By The Music Page 6