We have to laugh because Keith would have roared and yelled, “Fuck you! Fuck you, birds!”
He never liked seagulls. Not one bit.
“Fuck you, birds!” We all call out.
It is the first time I have ever said that word.
I will not say it ever again.
Keith’s ashes fall with a clump onto the water like little pieces of gravel. Some of his dust flies back into my eyes and makes me tear up. Cherry cannot look at all and hides her face until we tell her he is all gone. He is gone.
A seal pops up next to Diamond Girl. He swims around and around and follows us all the way back to the slip. I think it is Keith telling us he is okay. I think this is true. This is echt. The seal hangs around Diamond Girl for hours. We feed it fish that we steal from Marty’s bait pail and sit on Diamond Girl until it is dark and talk. We do not want to leave. It is like the last time we are with Keith.
Cherry asks Gary about the first time he met Keith. The first time he saw him.
“He just walked up from the docks into the store. Said he just sailed in from Portland. His rigging was in pieces. His jenny tattered. Said he was on his way to Canada. That he needed a job for a few weeks. It seems now like I knew him forever,” and Gary chokes up.
Gary’s family leaves together and we watch them from Diamond Girl’s cockpit as they drive away. When they are gone, Cherry gives me a sadness pill and tells me about her dad. I swallow it dry and it sticks in my throat. It tastes like that finger stuff Gram used to paint on me when I bit my nails.
Cherry leans against me. Her head is on my chest. I stroke her hair with my fingers.
“I just turned eighteen. He can’t touch me now,” she says. “Nobody can.”
“You look a lot older. I thought you were twenty.” I wish I knew she had a birthday. I would have given her a present.
“Thank you, Per,” she says, and looks pleased even though she is still crying.
We both take another pill, and wait for our sadness to go away.
It is hard to tell how old people are. For example, Gary seems older than he really is and Keith always seemed younger. He will never get older now. He will stay the same age as he was. I think about this as I hold Cherry.
“My dad is such an asshole.” She talks about her family and about Keith.
“He beat him up for me. Keith beat the crap out of him for me,” she says, and starts to cry harder. Her tears drip down my arm. “We were gonna be married. He wanted to marry me. I loved him, Perry. I really did,” she sobs.
We do not want to leave the cockpit. We do not want to stop talking about Keith.
“I will never stop loving him,” she tells me. She says that she wants to die.
“He was the best thing that ever happened to me and he loved me back. He loved me back. I know he did,” she cries.
“You were the best,” I tell her. “You were the best thing that ever happened to him. That is the truth. It is echt,” I say. It is true, I think, and hold her close.
We take another pill each.
Sadness pills.
It is such a crock.
A gyp.
They do not work.
And we cry.
55
After we run out of the sadness pills, I wake up at the same time each night. The clock flashes two-zero-one. My heart hurts when I breathe and my eyes are wet. Whenever I wake up, I remember Keith is dead. He is gone like our pills.
I cannot think and my pillow is wet. I need to use Kleenex. I see a shadow in the room. Cherry is standing by the window staring. I get up and grab her hands. They are like ice. Her face is dry. Her breath comes in sharp pants like a dog. Like a running dog. I lead her back to bed. She lies on her back, but her eyes are open. When I know she will stay put, I go back to Gram’s couch, wrap Gram’s afghan around myself, and shiver like I have a fever.
When the alarm goes off in the morning, Cherry is still in bed.
She is not dressed and her privates are showing.
“Get up, Cherry. You need to get up,” I tell her. I cannot look at her body. Her eyes are wide. They do not blink.
“We’ve got to go to work. You have to get up.” I look in the dresser drawer and find a pair of her clean panties. They are blue and have stars on them.
“Get up, Cherry. Please?” I ask, and cover her privates with her panties.
She does not move.
I thought we were getting better. I thought our sadness was leaving us. On Wednesday, we even cleaned the apartment together. Cherry scrubbed the kitchen and I scoured the bathroom shower. After we finished, I started the washing machine while Cherry went into the bedroom to gather up all our dirty clothes.
She did not come back.
I found her sitting on the floor with Keith’s stained jeans held to her breast.
“We have to keep these, Perry. Don’t wash these, okay?” I could hardly understand her words she was sobbing so hard. I heard her gulping.
She spent the rest of the day in bed covered with Keith’s dirty clothes. His socks. His underwear. She would not let me wash them. Instead, she took a flannel shirt, covered her face, and breathed deeply through it. She looked like a ghost except she had clothes on her face.
She sleeps later and later each morning.
Today she is not even talking.
When I walk back into the bedroom, she still has no clothes on. I pull her up and slide her panties up one leg. Her thighs flop and I have a hard time lifting her bottom. Her boobs are rolling around. I cannot find a bra so I pull a sweatshirt over her head. I grab her pink sweatpants out of the middle drawer.
She is like a big stuffed doll from the Evergreen State Fair. Like one of those you can win by throwing a ball into a hole. I always tried, but I never did win one. Gram would ask me what I would do with a doll that big anyway.
Now I know. It would be really hard to dress.
“Come on, Cherry. You are hard to dress.” She makes no sound.
She wakes up a little when I push her upright. I pull her to make her stand and lead her over to the kitchen table. She stumbles once and I catch her. I have to press her shoulders down to make her sit.
She has not eaten in two days.
I fix oatmeal, set a bowl in front of her, and give her a spoon.
“Come on, Cherry, you have to eat,” I tell her, “or you will get sick.”
She lifts the spoon and slides the cereal into her mouth. I am glad because I did not want to feed her. That would be spooky. As if she were a big baby.
By the time we get downstairs to the store, we are an hour late. Charles, the newest guy, is at the register, so I decide to have Cherry help me unpack boxes.
Boxes are good. You do not have to think to unpack them. First you slice them with the cutter, second you pry open the cardboard, and third you lift the stuff out. Popcorn filler drops to the floor. I get a broom and sweep it up. I do not think. It feels good not to think.
Gary brings Sandy and the girls in to help.
We need a lot of help at the store without Keith.
I have to set the alarm extra early each morning so there is time to help Cherry get dressed. I cannot sleep because I need to be ready to put her back to bed when she gets up in the middle of the night to stare at Diamond Girl through the window. I am so tired, and so sad, there is an ocean of hurt in my heart.
My eyes open. It is late.
There is a voice. Keith’s voice.
Take care of her, Per. Take care . . .
I hear Gram.
Careful . . .
I see the moon shining over the floor.
Cherry is not at the window, but I hear a noise.
It is coming from the kitchen.
Drawers open. One. Two. I hear them slide.
I get up. It might be a burglar. The bedroom door is open and I look inside. Cherry’s bed is empty. I walk into the kitchen.
When I see what she is doing, I feel fear at first. But I am like the Hulk. I become strong.
“No!” I shout. “Don’t,” I tell her. “Please?”
She holds a knife. She is holding a knife to her wrist. It presses into the skin and starts to make a cut. I move to her side, grab her arm, and pry the handle from her fingers. There is one small drip of blood that trickles down her arm. It is bright red. I lead her into the bathroom and put a Band-Aid over her wound. My hands shake as I smooth it over her skin.
“Don’t do this, Cherry. Keith would not want you to,” I say, and brush the hair off her neck. I smooth the tears off her cheek.
“I don’t want you to,” I tell her.
I do not know what else to say.
I lead her back into the bedroom, lie down next to her, and hold her in my arms until her eyes close and she falls asleep.
56
We get less sad even without the pills. We get less sad because life goes on, as Keith always said. As Gram said.
Cherry gets up on her own now without my help. She fixes us both oatmeal for breakfast and talks to me. She tells me she is pregnant. That she is having a baby.
“I’m having Keith’s baby,” she says.
She needs my help.
It is not too late for Keith. It is not too late for him to be a father. I want to be a father for Keith. I never even imagined that I would help Keith be a father.
Cherry wants me to know that she does not want to take advantage of me.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever love anybody again, Per. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do or where to go,” she says.
Cherry also wants me to know that she still loves Keith best even though he is dead. I say I understand, because I do. I love Keith best too. Sometimes friends have to take care of friend stuff. This is one of those times. I still hurt. I still feel guilty for liking Cherry. But I can do this one thing for Keith. This last thing for Keith.
I know he would be excited to be a father, but I am excited too. It is like a job I can do for him. A big favor. The biggest favor.
Cherry said she never had a boyfriend before Keith.
“I’m fat and ugly, Perry, really I am,” she says.
I definitely do not think she is fat or ugly. It is mean what people say. We talk about how mean people can be and how we are okay.
“People would stare at me when I ate. My aunt would tell me to lose weight. My cousins would call me fatty.”
“Kids at school would call me retard.” I do not like to tell anybody this, especially Cherry. I am afraid she will think it is true.
“I am not fat and you are not retarded. We are us!” she says, and gives me a kiss and a hug. That is so cool.
Cherry quit smoking, won’t watch horror movies anymore because she says it may bother the baby, and only eats vegetarian pizza. We order half Meat Eaters for me and half vegetarian for her. That’s what she calls me now, a Meat Eater.
We talk about names.
“We will call him Baby Keith,” I say. It will be another Keith.
“What if it’s a girl?” she asks.
“It won’t. I am positive. It will be Baby Keith.”
“Perry, it might not be.”
“Yes it will.” I am sure of this.
It will be Baby Keith, I hear Gram say.
Gary helps us fix up the apartment. Cherry chooses the colors.
“Yellow,” she decides. “Like the sun, and blue like the sky.”
I am happy. I was afraid she would want the colors in her hair. I like her hair, but not on our walls. While Gary and I paint, Cherry stays on Diamond Girl so the smells will not make her sick and hurt the baby. We make the nursery in a corner of the bedroom. We order a crib from Sears, and when it comes, Sandy and Gary help us put it together.
“Starting over,” Gary says. “A new beginning. A new life.”
Our apartment looks cool. We have Gram’s couch, my TV, a coffee table from Kmart, and my TV trays. We bought a brand-new bed. I found sailboat bedspreads in the catalogue and ordered them for the store. I got an extra one for us.
We sold all the spreads that I ordered in one week. Gary just laughs. He tells me to order anything I want for Holsted’s.
Cherry is smart. She has us study the business news every night and shows me how to go online and find message groups from sailors.
“See here, Per? Sailors from all over the world go online and talk. They tell people smart enough to listen what they need. Those smart people are us.” She has me take notes. “We gotta read them all, Perry. We have to keep up. It’s a way to find out what new stuff boaters want. We have to be proactive.” Proactive is another word Cherry learned from the business news. Proactive means taking charge. She tells Gary that she is taking charge and making us a website so boaters can order from us anywhere direct.
We always stand at the window each night and watch. It is a habit now. We look out at the water, at the reflection of the lights and at Diamond Girl. I hold Cherry close. My arms fit around her stomach. It is getting bigger because of the baby.
Cherry will talk about Keith at these times and cry.
“I wish I had told him about the baby.” She says this over and over.
I do not say anything and the voices come.
He knew, Gram says. Tell her he knew.
I knew, Keith says. Tell her.
Tell her.
“Cherry, what do you mean?” I say, and take a deep slow breath.
Truth is many things. Sometimes truth is what we want or maybe what we have. It may be what we choose to believe. Sometimes it is something real. Something echt. Something genuine. Sometimes you know the truth when you speak it. I am slow, but I know this.
“He knew, Cherry. He knew you were having his baby,” I say.
I feel her sink. I feel her sag. It may be the truth or it may be a very good lie that turns into the truth. I do not know.
“How do you know this?” she asks. “How do you know?” she breathes into my chest.
The answer comes out of my heart and I know exactly what to say.
“He told me. He told me he could tell. He told me.” When I say this, I know it is true, and I believe it myself.
It is true. It is echt. It is genuine.
Cherry cries. Big gulping sobs. She cannot stand and I hold her up.
It is a good truth.
The best one.
I reach my arms around her tight and I do not let her go.
57
It is late at night. Our lights are off. We are ready to go to sleep. Me on the couch and Cherry in the bed. The rain plops against the door like tiny knocks. I sniff because I need to use a Kleenex. We are both blurring our eyes watching Diamond Girl outside. Pretending Keith is there, tying her up in the rain.
“When will Keith be back?” Cherry will ask.
“Soon. He’s putting on another line. The wind’s blowing hard. If he doesn’t tighten her up, she may pull loose. See him there?”
“Where?” she will ask.
“Right there. See?” I will point. “He’s waving.” And we will wave back.
It is a game we play.
Tonight Cherry is silent. She does not wave at the pretend Keith. Instead her arm crawls around my waist, and she pulls me tight. I pat her hand and she hugs me even closer. Her other hand rubs my belly and moves down. My stomach clenches and drops like I am on a roller coaster ride.
My head is all mixed up with thinking. I am happy Cherry is with me, but I am sad Keith is not. My privates are getting hard and my nose is running. Cherry takes my hand and puts it on her boob. My head gets dizzy and I am spinning.
She takes both my hands and leads me walking backwards into the bedroom. Her steps are sure and even, mine are not. I jerk forward and she catches me. Her bare hand touches my privates. I am shaking and sweating. My feet stumble again and I am scared, but I am not so scared that I want her to stop.
I do not want her to stop. I cannot catch my breath. I hear it in my ears. I do not know exactly what will happen, but I can guess.
Keith and I talked
about man things. He told me about privates and what they do. We sat in his cockpit while he drank beer and I drank Coke. He told me all about the hot Mexican babes he knew in San Antonio. When he got back from ’Nam.
“Hot, Per. Hot! Beautiful and smart. I should have married one while I was there. Whoa, Momma!” he said.
Gram would have washed both our mouths out with naphtha soap if she had heard us. I asked Keith questions.
“You put it where? But how do you know when to do it and what to do?” I asked him.
He told me all about it and then said, “All you have to do is let nature take its course.”
“Does nature feel good?” I asked.
“Yeah, Per,” he said, and closed his eyes. “Nature feels real good.”
I wish I had paid more attention. I wish I could remember everything he said, but there is nothing in my head but wind and waves.
She takes off my shirt.
She unbuttons my pants.
She pulls me down on top of her. Cherry is soft and moves against me. When she does this I find out it is true. Every bit of it.
All you have to do is let nature take its course.
And nature feels real good.
Just like Keith said. He was right.
It is fireworks. I am flying. It is better than flying.
I laugh. “Ha!” And then I cannot talk at all. I cannot breathe. I cannot think. I just am.
My thinking turns into black and I fall asleep.
When I wake up again the clock is flashing three-three-zero. Three-thirty in the morning. I have no clothes on and Cherry is naked. I watch her breathe. In and out. She is so beautiful. I do not say a word, but it is as if she hears me watch.
Her eyes open. She smiles.
And I know exactly what to do.
58
I have been rich for almost a year.
When my cousin-brothers found out about Keith they started calling even more, but I did not talk. I did not answer. I had to think by myself. And then I knew.
I knew what to do.
My words today are share, shareholder, sharer, and shark. Share means you give part of your things to other people and a shark has teeth and bites.
I dial David’s number first, then I dial John’s. “People should get what they want,” I tell them on the phone. I say it is time for another Family Meeting. I call the Family Meeting this time. It is my decision. I am like the Hulk. I have Power.
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