Spilled Coffee

by J. B. Chicoine

  Penny and I watched the wedding from our float. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t mention to her that Doc had invited us to the reception. Maybe I was afraid she would make good on crashing the party. That would have been fine, except I didn’t like the idea of her being around a bunch of older guys, especially Percy. I had the feeling he would be there.

  When the procession music began, Penny grabbed me as if I were her best girlfriend. I reclaimed my arm with a yank.

  “What’s the big deal?” I said, when in fact, ever since I had heard the word “mini,” I couldn’t quit envisioning Amelia’s thighs in something super short.

  Penny sighed. My own jaw dropped when Amelia stepped out the French doors. Then Ricky swaggered out beside her. She looped her arm in his and began the stiff, measured walk toward the floral trellis.

  “Hot pink,” Penny whispered, as if I didn’t know my colors. Actually, only the part across Amelia’s chest was hot pink; the fluffy-looking fabric over the loose-fitting skirt looked like a cloud passing over a sunset. It wasn’t as short as I had hoped for. Just the same, it did show her knees and a couple inches of thigh. Her strawberry tendrils cascaded from a pile of curls atop her head and brushed her shoulders.

  Penny giggled, “And spaghetti straps.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what they’re called.”

  Amelia wasn’t smiling, although Ricky was all teeth, posing for the photographer.

  Another lady stepped out in a dress similar to Amelia’s, and then Sunshine joined them in bright and cloudy blue. After a longer pause, Doc stepped out, looking like Sean Connery as James Bond—except for the silver hair. He held out his hand. Karen grasped it as she emerged, her veil covering as little of her face as her dress did the rest of her. Penny gasped again.

  “Can you believe that!” Penny said with a streak of awe. “There’s practically nothing too it! Oh my gosh! It looks like a négligée.”

  What it lacked in length, it made up for in plenty of billowy fabric, and the breeze sure had a way of playing with the hem. If Karen had been built more like Candace than Sunshine, the low V neckline would have been what Mom called obscene.

  Doc strolled Karen down a red carpet as guests threw white petals in front of them. When they arrived at the preacher, Doc bent and kissed Karen’s cheek, placing her hand on Dick’s. It was just a dumb wedding, but all at once, the impact of it hit me. Doc was giving away his little girl—turning her over to the care of another man. And if any of my gut instincts were accurate, Dick was not the man Doc would have chosen. And how did Doc feel about Amelia’s father?

  Penny sighed. “I can hardly wait to get married.”

  “I thought you wanted to go to college and be a nurse.”

  “Women these days can do both, you know.”

  “I know. It just seems like after you’re married you would want to be a wife and not a student.”

  “That’s about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

  I shrugged. Maybe a wife could do a whole lot more than just cook and clean and watch soap operas. Now that I thought about it, I liked the idea of a wife who had lots of other interests. Then we might not get bored with each other.

  Penny sighed, “What a perfect day for a wedding. I hope when I get married, it’s just like this—clear blue, sunny skies—then everything will turn out perfect.”

  Penny was thinking about the weather she hoped for on her wedding day, but if I were ever going to get married, that would be the least of my concerns. How about worrying if I had picked the right girl, or how I was going to pay for a house and a car and my wife’s college education.

  Once the wedding procession ended and the ceremony began, I swam around the cove until Dick kissed his bride. Even from a distance, it seemed a little too long and passionate for a public kiss. Made me wonder all the more about Karen.

  I swam back to shore as Penny continued watching. Mom didn’t rouse when I walked past her recliner on my way to the cottage. Now my main concern switched to whether there would be any Marshmallow Fluff left—and the reception, of course. I didn’t plan to sneak over until Mom went to bed, which was around 9:00 most nights. That night, I turned in near 8:45. About a half hour earlier, shortly after sunset, the chamber music switched to a heavy bass beat. Would Mom fall asleep with all the music and noise from across the cove? At 9:30, I snuck out into the dark, wearing my decent shorts, a button-down shirt, and sneakers—not wedding attire, but it was the best I had at camp.

  I thought about walking to Whispering Narrows, but rowing over gave me more opportunity to scope out the party before showing up. Once I boarded the boat, I sat in the shadows beyond our float for a long time, staying close to shore. I swatted mosquitoes and watched the crowd, half of them under the big lit-up tent, dressed in formal-looking outfits. Another bunch—mostly younger people—talked and danced barefooted out on the lawn. It was easy to pick out Sunshine. Lenny hovered nearby, wearing only jeans and a black vest but no shirt. I also spotted Percy. I scanned the group for Doc but couldn’t make out his figure or the sound of his laugh. And of course, I looked for Amelia.

  As much as I wanted to see what it was like at a big fancy wedding, with an open bar and white-gloved waiters serving hors d’oeuvres, I sat there feeling very awkward at the thought of beaching the boat and walking up to the party alone. Then Amelia emerged from the crowd, in that cute little dress, padding barefoot down the lawn and out to the end of the dock. She stood for a few seconds and then sat, shoulders slumped and swinging her legs. I was about to start rowing over when Ricky came down the lawn. Sometime between the ceremony and now, he had lost his tuxedo jacket and tie. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down, and his sleeves rolled halfway up. Carrying two party cups, he swaggered out to where Amelia sat.

  With the oars in my lap, I watched under the nearly full moon and crisp black sky. How would she react to him showing up? When he offered her a cup, she drank it down fast, passed it back to him, grabbed his other cup, swallowed it down, and then held it away. She looked at it and then up at him. If there hadn’t been so many other noises echoing around the cove, I could have heard what she said when he sat beside her. There wasn’t a whole lot of room for her to move over, even if she had wanted to. She leaned away from him.

  They chatted back and forth for a couple minutes, but he did most of the talking. Somehow, he managed to make her giggle, which cut through the other echoes. Whatever he had said made her relax enough that he closed the gap between them. When he pointed at the curls on top of her head, she patted them down. He made like he was going to fix something in her hair. That’s when he moved in closer.

  It wasn’t as if he had done anything more than touch her hair, but the way he looked over his shoulder, as if to check for onlookers, made me start rowing just enough to set my boat moving in that direction. By the time he stroked her cheek to lean in and kiss her, I had cut my distance to the dock by half. She didn’t react for a second. I slowed—if she liked him, she would think I was a jerk for interrupting—but when she started pushing him away, and he grabbed her shoulders and kept kissing her, I was a few boat-lengths away. I heard her words, “Get off me!” clear as could be.

  That overwhelming feeling I’d had the other night—my unrestrained potential—again possessed me. I called out, “Hey, Amelia!”

  I startled then both, allowing her opportunity to give him a big shove. He backed off. Now that I had her attention, I called out again, “Amelia, you wanna go for a boat ride?”

  Shadows hid much of their expressions, and I wasn’t sure if hers showed anger or fear until I came nearer. At the sight of me, her grimace changed to something like a smile of relief. Ricky squinted. His face registered recognition and then disdain.

  “Benjamin—” She swung her legs to the beachside of the dock where I approached, giving my oar a twist and maneuvering the transom end so she could board if she wanted.

  Ricky came to his feet, smirking
as usual. “Hey, kid, you showed up just in time. We’d love to have you paddle us around the lake, wouldn’t we Amy?”

  I did my best to steady the boat as Amelia—all legs—hopped in, mouthing the words, “Go. Go!”

  At the very moment Ricky made to board, I pulled both oars with all my strength. By the time he realized I hadn’t stuck around for him, he lost his balance, arms flailing and one leg straight out. He landed in the lake with a splash. Wide-eyed, Amelia’s head whipped around to look. She covered her mouth. I steered us into the shadows of the cove, away from where he continued to thrash in the chest-high water, cursing. He traipsed toward shore, sopping wet. I let out a nervous laugh—what the heck had I just done?

  “Serves him right,” I said as Amelia panted, staring at me with alarm. I didn’t think she was mad, but I wasn’t sure. I swallowed hard. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay right in the cove so if Doc looks for you, he’ll be able to see you’re with me.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut, sending a tear down each cheek. “He won’t even notice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My stupid Uncle Brad showed up … and him and Sunshine had a fight and Grandpa kicked him out, because Brad had too much to drink … and my stupid mother thinks my screwed-up family is all normal … and she thinks stupid Dick is wonderful and Ricky—” she took a deep quivering breath, “he’s such a conceited creep and now he’s my stepbrother ….” That’s when she really started crying.

  I wished I had a handkerchief or something, but she didn’t need it; she just lifted a layer of fabric from her dress and wiped her eyes and nose. It should have grossed me out but it didn’t. I was more concerned about coming up with something to say. All I could muster was, “Gosh, Amelia….”

  She rubbed both cheeks. “I feel dizzy. I think there was something in Ricky’s drink or something …. Am I drunk?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then why didn’t I just push him in the water?”

  “I don’t know.” I tried to keep from smirking, but one corner of my mouth curled. “Maybe you are drunk.”

  “It was gross.” She grimaced through her tears, wiping her mouth. “He slobbered all over me.”

  “Maybe he knows he’s a lousy kisser and that’s why he has to get a girl drunk first.”

  She let out a small huff that was almost a chuckle and then closed her eyes, sending tears from their corners. Drawing her knees together, she wrapped her arms snug around her waist and continued leaking tears. Even with a red nose and puffy eyes, she still made my insides crazy. I didn’t say anything more; I simply kept rowing around the cove as the bass beat of “Light My Fire” rolled across the water.

  Her strawberry brows scrunched as she opened her eyes and yanked pins from her hair. “And I hate this hairdo and this dress and my mother and this whole stupid wedding.” One by one, she threw pin after pin at the water. “She just wants me to look like a Barbie doll. She even wanted me to wear fake eyelashes. Can you believe it? I mean, I’m only fifteen years old!” She threw another with even more force. “If it hadn’t been for Sunshine, she’d have made me wear gobs of blue eye shadow and mascara.” She plucked another pin, wrenched it wide open, and hurled it. “I’m just so mad!” Half of her hair had come down. She tried to comb her fingers through it as her eyes slowly met mine. “I must look horrible. You must think I’m horrible.”

  “No I don’t.”

  “Well, I am horrible.”

  “No you’re not.”

  She stared at me as tears streamed down her cheeks, but her face wasn’t all twisted as if she was crying. She said, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m just a nice guy.”

  She kept staring, maybe holding out for a better answer.

  I continued, “And because you’re Doc’s granddaughter and I think Ricky’s a creep, and I hate to think of you being sad. I mean you have everything—you should be happy.”

  Her brow narrowed. “How would you know what I have and how I should feel?”

  “I guess I don’t, really, seeing as I’ve only talked to you once. And I don’t know your mom, but, well, how would you like to have mine?”

  She went from frowning to a half giggle, “No way,” and then turned serious again, “but I don’t want mine either. I wish it were just me and Doc and Sunshine, all the time.”

  “I wish Doc was my grandfather.”

  She cocked her head. “How come I hardly ever see your dad around?”

  “He’s got a job.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s a salesman. What about your dad?”

  Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

  She shook her head as she looked over every inch of me, blinked a couple times, and then swallowed with a grimace. “Sometimes … Benjamin …,” her voice trailed off with her gaze.

  “Sometimes, what?”

  She bit her lip as if trying to keep it from trembling as she shrugged. “Sometimes … I’m afraid of turning out like my mother.”

  I tried every which way to figure out what she meant, because as far as I could tell, she was nothing like her mother. “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head and wiped another tear as it slipped down her cheek. Her eyes pleaded for something I couldn’t grasp; it made my heart feel as if it were being grabbed and pulled out of my chest, right through my ribcage. For a second, I didn’t think I would be able to keep my own eyes from welling.

  All she said was, “I want to go swimming.”

  I nodded, still trying to understand. “Okay.”

  Chapter 20

  Eighteen years after the fact, Amelia—that is, the fantasy of Amelia—still mystifies me.

  As I glide across the cove, my beardless chin cuts through velvety water—like skinny-dipping, naked and free. I’ve only skinny-dipped once in my life, in a chlorine-bleached pool, with no snapping turtles or nibbling fish. And it wasn’t the way I had imagined it would be—not like the hippies, all uninhibited and out there. Swimming naked was nothing short of awkward. I couldn’t wait to get it over with. The whole time, I was wishing I could have re-enacted swimming with Amelia—both of us comfortably clothed—that night of the wedding. Perhaps it was the combination of her vulnerability and my restraint, but reminiscing on it, I realize just how sensual—not sexual, but truly sensual—it was, and how moments as raw as that became my touchstone for future intimacy.

  I’ve never been certain of how sex and intimacy are supposed to come together for the adult male—for the well-adjusted adult male. At almost fourteen, I was on the brink of maturing sexually and emotionally. I assume that’s the way it works; both elements come together within a few years of each other—the emotional half, lagging. But what if something interrupts one element? I continued to mature sexually, with all the normal desires and functions, but I’ve always wondered if I got stuck in my pubescent mindset when it comes to emotions and expectations. Most guys grow beyond those early, intense desires associated with their first feelings of arousal. It’s more physical than anything, but pin that to a real-live girl and it feels like it must be love. Then, we grow up, move out of adolescence, and realize there’s a whole lot more to love than hormonal surges. But what if a guy never progresses beyond that? What if he gets stuck in emotional limbo and is always looking to match that intensity? Every sexual experience—every relationship—comes up lacking.

  Diving deep, and then emerging at the spot where our float once moored, I brace myself for the swirl of emotion and sensation I’m about to evoke. I’ve replayed that evening so many times over the years, in spite of how raw it leaves me. But today, I’m right here, right where it happened. And it’s not that a whole lot did happen, but it was the first time Amelia and I connected. The moment I fell in love.

  I swim in a circle, estimating where I rowed my boat so as to put Amelia’s end against
the ladder. I remember that keeping her safe was my primary concern.

  She hadn’t been slurring or anything, but I didn’t know how drunk Amelia might be. I prepared myself for a rescue as she climbed out, her footing unsteady. I secured the line and scuttled from the boat. Amelia swayed at the edge of the float and dove into the water, disappearing for a few long seconds, the way I had on that afternoon when I almost drowned myself. My heart sped until she breached the water’s surface with a splash.

  She laughed, motioning for me to join her. “Come on!”

  Without hesitation, I kicked off my sneakers, slipped out of my shirt, and dove in beside her. When she swam out farther, I followed. She paused and I caught up. As we treaded water, she was so close that the fabric of her dress brushed my hand as it floated upward, like a beautiful swishing jellyfish. The water between us swirled and pushed against me. Moonbeams reflected off her face. She looked at me the way she had the other night and moved closer, so close I felt her breath.

  Beneath the water, her fingers grazed my waist up to my chest, then my neck, and then my cheek. The temperature of the water must have risen about a hundred degrees. I came close enough to kiss her—close enough that her breath warmed my lips without them touching—and then I hesitated. I pulled back. Under the circumstances, kissing Amelia seemed wrong. It would have been different if she hadn’t been sort of drunk and she wasn’t in such an emotional twist. I didn’t want her to be embarrassed about any of it later. Just the same, I hated for her to get the wrong impression, like I wasn’t interested.