Lemon Reef

by Robin Silverman

  “She’s coming in the fall,” Del said, referring to a Stevie Nicks concert. “Do you want to go with me?” She asked it with all the tenderness and uncertainty of a would-be first date. “I could take you for your birthday.” I was turning fifteen in October.

  My hands were trembling. “Definitely,” I said, trying to swallow away my inexplicable nervousness. We had, after all, been making each other come for months.

  “I’m nervous, too,” she offered.

  “You don’t seem nervous.”

  Del guided my hand to the back of her neck, slipped her bikini string into my fingers. I caught the scent of her shampoo as I swept her hair out of the way with one hand and then pulled the string with the other, watched the loops of the bow shrink and then disappear. My hands went around her torso to undo the hook at her back. She smiled at me; I studied her.

  Del reached around to the back of my neck, found my bikini string, and ran her fingers down it until she found the end. She held it up for me to see, smiled as she gently tugged at it, her expression and the gesture daring permission to pull it for real. I nodded. She slipped the string out slowly until the bow came undone, and my bikini top dropped by half, my pink nipples springing out from small, white mounds. Del lifted her hair off her face and cast a delicate glance at me. We were standing face-to-face with our breasts bare, any shyness or uncertainty in the past giving way now to excitement and pride.

  I reached behind my back and pulled the remaining string. She kissed me and slipped my bikini bottom off. I lay down on the blanket tossed over a bed of fallen sea grape leaves and soft sand. Del removed her bottom and then slid in on her side next to me. She propped her head up on her elbow and smiled down at me. We kissed more, her breath tasting of recently chewed watermelon-flavored Bubble Yum, her hand moving down my belly to my clitoris. I felt her fingers enter and then rest inside me. Del’s fine hair, almost red in the dappled sunlight, fell to one side; her green-gold eyes were firm and clear; her face was powerful and lovely against the canopy of foliage and filtered sky. In the future I would happen upon actual photographs of this same face and realize the sadness in its delicate contours and the wryness in this not-quite smile.

  On my back, one knee bent upward toward the sky, I lightly touched Del’s breast and watched her. Behind her in a patch of breakthrough sunlight I noticed the unlikely presence of weeping lantana making its way through and across branches and thick, round sea grape leaves—a splash of bright color against an otherwise austere landscape. My eyes moved from the budding yellow-and-white sand-born flowers to Del’s face, and I sensed in her a similar contradiction, a similar ironic relationship to her own beauty. I ran my finger down the straight, narrow bridge of her nose set against her round face, traced the slight slope of her nostril, followed the outline of her slightly parted lips, as thick as the finger sketching them.

  “They’re too big,” she said of her lips. She drew her fingers out of me and rested her hand on my inner thigh.

  “Are you kidding? You’re gorgeous.”

  “Everyone can see their own flaws,” she said. “The flaws that other people can’t see, I mean.”

  “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” She kissed my hand. I lowered my finger to her pointed chin, then down her neck. I gently played with the silver-link necklace she was wearing. “I love this.” She hadn’t taken it off since her father put it on her neck. Now she reached around her own neck, undid the clasp, and leaned over to put the necklace on me. “No, Del.” I tried to stop her. She pushed past my hand and put her arms around my neck, maneuvering the clasp until it caught and closed. Then she pulled on the chain a little, as if making sure it was secure, gave me the feeling she was claiming me. “It’s a loan, okay?” I said, desperately wanting this from her but knowing she was heartbroken over how little she was seeing of her father now.

  “I don’t know.” She was propped up on her elbow again, looking down at me. “I can’t imagine wanting it back from you.” She used the fingers she’d just had inside me to brush some sand from her face. “I love looking at you,” Del said. “You have the greenest eyes. When you’re in the sun, they’re like malachite. And a perfect nose.” She ran her finger down the bridge of my nose and over its round tip. “And a really sexy mouth. So sexy. Like Cupid’s bow.” I laughed. “I’m serious.” She traced the upward angle of my top lip with her finger. “This is the bow, and”—moving to my bottom lip—“this is the string. And the way your lips cut high into your cheeks when you smile. I love your face. I like your hair, too. I know you don’t,” she said in response to my facial scrunch. She used the tips of her fingers to wisp curls from my face. “I like it long, the way it is now. Don’t cut it, okay?” I nodded. She cupped my breast. “And you have the sweetest tits.”

  I put my palm to her cheek. “I love you.”

  Her eyes glistened. My hand went to her breast. I rolled us over so I was on top of her, her hair spread out behind her. We started kissing, I slid my hips over hers, and our clits touched for the first time, exciting me in a whole new way.

  Del let out a high-pitched breath. I felt her tremble. “Wait.” Her voice was soft but firm.

  “What is it?” I lay on top of her, my torso arched upward, her hands up behind her head, my hands on hers.

  She folded her fingers over mine. “I think,” she said searchingly, “I wasn’t expecting it to feel…” She had a deliberate expression tinged with fear. “It feels so…” She looked at me. “Private.”

  We were used to fooling around in her room, always worried about getting barged in on by nosey Nicole or upset-yet-again Ida. Out here, there was little chance of getting caught, and all we had to focus on was each other.

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “No,” she blurted out and laughed at the same time. “Do you?” I shook my head.

  She rolled us over so that now she was on top. She bit my lip, then my chin. She kissed my breast, then my belly, continuing lower, until her mouth and fingers were working their way through my pubic hair, pulling me apart. I pushed past the shyness, and I opened my legs wider for her. Del looked at my clit, then she glanced at my face, her expression tender and grateful. Her eyes closed and her mouth and nose melted into me.

  It was hard to relax. I was preoccupied with the exposure, the moist leaf stuck to the back of my hand, the blanket not being big enough, the towel falling short as a pillow, Del’s legs being in the sand. Del didn’t seem particularly concerned with any of those things or even with whether I was responding. She just kept massaging me with her mouth, edging into different parts of me with her fingers, exploring me.

  After a while of hanging out like that, Del sucking me and me watching her, she raised her face, rested her chin against my thigh, and said, “The sand is kind of irritating.”

  She got a better idea. She brushed the sand and leaves off, brought her legs around and straddled my breasts with her knees. She looked back and checked on me, then moved her clitoris toward my not-quite-yet-ready mouth. I shifted my position, and first my tongue and then my lips engaged. I tasted her for the first time. Del tipped upward a little and sucked the air. I breathed in deeply, the scent of soap mixed with something distinctly more her. She turned her face down, pulled her hair to one side, and placed her mouth and tongue on me.

  I don’t know if it was the lack of time pressure, the feeling of privacy, the clarity, finally, of our feelings for each other, but what we were doing felt easy. Once in it, we went surprisingly slowly, given how long we had waited. Del set the pace, overwhelming me with the experience of being touched and kissed so thoroughly. What I remember most about how she was with me was her earnestness. I studied the parts of her body I hadn’t seen before, thrilled that I could, eased her cheeks apart, touched her pinkish-brown asshole with my finger. She adjusted to open up more, brought herself closer to my mouth. I entered her a little, lightly edged against the rim with the tip of my tongue—the taste sour and sharp.

&nbs
p; My tongue found her clit again, and I moved my fingers in and out of her slit. She breathed in, then released her breath in muffled groans as she continued sucking me. My stomach swooped and stilled to distraction, and I had to close my eyes and grab hold of her for a moment to steady myself, the tension edging into hurt.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, looking back at me.

  “Yes,” I said. “Keep going.” Her clit came back to me, an exposed, vulnerable crimson protrusion.

  I felt serious and focused and surprisingly confident. I slowly traced the outer edges of her pubic hair—the color of ginger—noticed the quarter-sized dark-brown birthmark on her inner thigh. Tan lines and shave lines demarked private from public, and I took immense pleasure in knowing my eyes could cross over them easily now. She had just finished her period, and I could see and taste the remaining traces of blood in her come, the reddish-brown hue coating my fingers after I fucked her.

  I don’t know specifically what she was doing with her mouth or her hands, but I wanted her to keep going. She seemed to know this intuitively, because she did. She kept at me, while whatever the feeling was took hold, with an intensity that caught me by surprise. I was along for a ride. I was fucking her with my fingers harder and faster without intending to, my mouth held on to her, my tongue held steady on her clit. I heard her sounds as my own breath got away from me, squeezing out in gasps. My abdomen, now with a life of its own, my entire body trembling reflexively in rapid succession, a lull, she kept going, another swell followed by ripples to my thighs, and then another. And she was coming at the same time, her whole body shaking, her come suddenly thicker and tangier in my mouth. And then we were both lying still, breathing hard, holding on to each other.

  A little dazed from the intensity, I said, “That felt so good! That felt so good.” She kissed my clit. I kissed her inner thigh, moist from her secretions and my spit.

  I was still holding Del when she suddenly flipped off of me and reached for the radio. “I love this song,” she said, as she turned up the volume. She sat up, her legs spread out in front of her, her arms supporting her weight, her confident nakedness a mere fact between us now. “Come Sail Away” by Styx played on the radio. “Wanna go for a swim?”

  I shook my head. “No, not yet.” I rolled onto my side, leaned on my elbow, and played with her small feet and stubby toes.

  “What’s wrong?” She wiggled the toe I was playing with to get my attention. “Why do you like this song so much?” She looked at me questioningly.

  I shrugged my shoulders and said, “It’s a great song. I just think it’s a really sad song.” I pulled her big toe apart from the smaller one adjacent to it and tried to crack the joint.

  “So?” Then, “Ouch!” She yanked her foot to get me to stop.

  “It might sound corny,” I started to say.

  “You?” she teased, Styx in the background.

  I flashed a sarcastic smile. Then, refusing to be deterred, I said, “You’re that captain, Del,” referring to the song. Her mouth tightened; she glared at me. She was already anticipating where I was going and was trying to ward me off. “You are,” I persisted. “And you’re trying to get your sisters and brother on board with you. You’re trying to carry on for all of you.” No movement, no indication she’d even heard me. “Del, maybe we should tell someone about your mom’s drinking, that she hits you guys. Maybe we should ask for help.” Del bit her bottom lip, her expression impassive. I was sure I was pissing her off, but I didn’t care. Then Del’s chin dropped to her chest. Her soft hair fell forward, hiding her face, and it took me a moment to realize she was crying.

  I sat up, kissed the top of her head, leaned my forehead against hers, stroked her hair. She leaned into me, and I put my hand on the back of her neck. “Is it what I said?” Styx was jamming in the background.

  Del climbed into my lap and wrapped her legs around me. “All I know,” she said, “is you make me feel really good.” She kissed me, nuzzled my nose and lips with her nose, kissed me more. She pressed her forehead to mine, followed by more kisses, more nuzzles. She watched me, her eyes still red from crying. “Is this what you expected,” she asked, “being with someone for the first time?”

  Her question confused me. I looked at her, trying to understand what she was asking me, and in a flash of overwhelming excitement and pleasure I figured it out. Mildly teasing, I said, “Are you losing your virginity today?” Sadly, it hadn’t occurred to me what we were doing would mean that to her.

  She nodded, and with some uncertainty and maybe a hint of hurt, she said, “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” I said. “It’s amazing being with you.” I stared at her. “You’re amazing.” I tucked her hair behind her ear, kissed her breast, nearly level with my mouth. “Nothing could beat this.” I pushed my fingers into her, watched her face change, thought she was shockingly beautiful. She moved in rhythm with my fingers for a long while until I felt her insides contracting, was aware of her breath on my face tinged with saliva. It covered me like mist, the scent a mixture of her insides and mine. I was watching her face pinch and relax as she came, pushing whatever was going to come out of her mouth back down inside her so she could feel it longer. Listening to her gasp, feeling her tremble, I came again under her.

  We sat there in silence, both of us breathing hard, my hand still in her. I noticed the slim shape of her moist inner thigh hugging my hip. She kissed my forehead. “Damn,” she said, returning now to her previous state of lightheartedness. “I was rockin’ and rollin’.” I squared our bodies and put my arms around her waist. Del wrapped her arms and legs around me and hugged me tighter. “Oh my God, Jenna.” She turned her face away, as if protecting herself from feeling it too much. “I’m so close to you.” Then she said, “I think they were multiples.” I was focused on the residuals, my melted cunt and tingling body surfaces, the feel of Del’s bare, moist skin against my own. She put her face into my neck. I pulled her hair back and kissed her cheek. “Do you?” she persisted, “think they were multiples?” I didn’t answer, just wondered what she’d been reading lately. She smiled shyly. “You’re beautiful, Jenna.” It was not how I saw myself, which she knew. “You are.” She fondled the necklace she’d given me earlier. “I’m in love with you.”

  Exhausted, I fell back onto the blanket. I looked up at her sitting on me. “I’m in love with you, too. Madly.”

  *

  As we left the sea grapes behind, I caught myself believing we were on our way now to meet up with Del, and I felt desperately excited to see her again. My heart leaped, my hands yearned for her skin. Then I felt Del’s autopsy report rolled up in my back pocket, a stark reminder that she was dead, that I would never see her again. A man-of-war lay just beneath the surface of the sand, its tentacles splayed out behind it like dripping vein-blue paint.

  Chapter Nine

  Tar Baby was waiting for us at the tunnel entrance. There was hardly an acknowledgment. He gestured to us and we followed him in silence through the tunnel to the bay side. Haulover Bay lay before us, the last of the sunlight sinking behind the trees in the far surround. We found an out-of-the-way picnic table near the water’s edge. From where we were standing, we could see sundry critters scampering on and around the slippery rocks.

  Tar Baby relit a half-smoked cigarette, pulled his shirt on over his lanky, tanned torso, pushed his wiry hair back from his face. “I can’t believe she’s dead,” Tar Baby said to Ida, nervously. Ida nodded. “Man, she was so beautiful. What about her kid, Khila, how’s she gonna take this? I mean, Del had problems, but she was a real good mother.”

  He was speedy, talkative. His still pupils and thick-brown-mucus-lined nostrils answered for his nickname. We stood there quietly, waiting for him to tell what he could. His eyes landed vigilantly on me.

  “This is Jenna,” Nicole said. “She’s an old family friend.” Gesturing to Katie and Gail, she added, “They’re fine, too. Don’t worry, it’s safe.” Nicole’s eyes shifted, she stepped
from foot to foot like the ground was hot. Her hands flexed and relaxed apparently outside of her awareness.

  In response to Tar Baby’s suspicion about us, Gail leaned her weight largely on one leg, crossed her arms, and shot me a just-give-me-an-excuse-to-leave glare. Katie stood beside Gail, calm, curious, quietly amused.

  “Here’s what I know.” He blew smoke, flicked his ashes. “Tal owed some money on a gambling debt, and they did the drop so he could pay it back. They were using Lemon Reef as the meeting point to make the trade.” He laughed, proudly announced his brown teeth. “Pretty ingenious, really, they just swim”—wiggling his fingers, he did a little performance improvisation—“right under the Coast Guard radars.”

  As I tried to understand it, I said, “It was a drug deal?” He nodded. “So, underwater?” I clarified, “An underwater drug deal?” Tar shot Ida a questioning look, as if he was confused by my confusion. “I don’t get it,” I said.

  Ida said, “Well, it’s not obvious, and anyway, I thought they quit that shit after the Thomas kid got killed.” She was sitting on the picnic table, feet planted on the bench. Poised as she was, her long, narrow body and delicate profile had a mannequin-like quality. Her soft red hair glowed against the fading orange sky.

  Nicole moved foot to foot, stepped back then forward, pulled both arms in close like a boxer, then pushed out like a push-up against the air. “Just explain it to her,” she said impatiently. She took hold of the purse strap, and I realized rolling it between her fingers was her way of calming down when she was upset.

  Tar Baby threw his hair back, patted his board-like stomach, and said, “You decide on a dive spot, set a time, and exchange money for drugs underwater.”

  “And then you just carry the drugs out of the water onto the beach?” Gail asked.

  Hands out, palms up, he said, “People have their ways.” Tar Baby laughed at his own thought, which he then shared. “We used to carry it out in a bag, put a few pieces of coral in there or a lobster or two. No big deal really.”