Swimming for Sunlight

by Allie Larkin

  I remembered being in his old station wagon while he cranked up the Rolling Stones, chasing Mick Jagger singing “Wild Horses” with Fred Schneider–style Sprechgesang. We were driving home from mini golf. I had a chocolate soft serve cone dripping down my arm faster than I could finish it. I laughed so hard it hurt. I’m not sure how old I was, but I remember in that moment, it occurred to me that my father was having fun beyond trying to keep me entertained. He enjoyed my amusement, liked being the source of it. It was the first time I saw him as a person, not just my dad.

  I smiled, and felt warmth in my chest. It was one of the rare times I’d been stuck in a good memory of my father. I mostly thought of the last one. But maybe, if I tried, I could get comfortable remembering him. I closed my eyes and worked to picture everything I could about what it felt like to be in that car with him. The sting when I crinkled my sunburned nose. Sticky hands. Sparkly purple flip-flops on my dirty feet. The sun was low in the sky, cotton candy clouds turning pink as it set.

  I remembered the click and whir when I put Cosmic Thing in the tape deck. We sang along to “Love Shack” with the windows down, my hair whipping into my ice cream. There’s no way I had any idea what the words meant, but I understood the joy.

  I remembered my dad’s deep voice. Faded red t-shirt. Tan arms. Scratched Wayfarers. He popped the rest of his ice cream cone in his mouth and handed me his napkin. “You’re a mess,” he said, grinning, like I was a great masterpiece of summer. I think he took the long way home. I think he didn’t want the moment to end either.

  I played the video for “Love Shack” on my phone and got goose bumps. I was on the right path. The video set was a mishmash of diner details and thrift store finds, shabby and loud. Because of the eclectic feel, there was no expectation of time-period accuracy. I watched Kate Pierson jump and shimmy in an orange-fringed onesie and decided she would be my muse. Bitsie needed fringe, not shells. Nan needed shimmering splendor. They would not be demure. These were not mermaids sitting on a rock waiting for a sailor to come by. They were basking in their own strength.

  I looked up the B-52s and found a current picture of Kate Pierson in a shiny purple bodysuit, her hair Raggedy Ann red. I pinned it to my mermaid board on Pinterest. Maybe, if I kept the budget tight, I could get my hands on some photogenic wigs.

  * * *

  I stayed up into the morning hours, colored pencils strewn across the coffee table, bowl of popcorn eaten down to the kernels on the floor next to me. Bark lay on my feet, snoring. It didn’t seem worth it to wake him for bed, so I slept on the couch.

  I woke to the sound of the front door opening, and covered my face with a throw pillow so Nan would leave me to sleep. Bark ran to the door, howling. I thought as soon as he figured out that it was Nan he’d settle down, but his howls grew in intensity.

  “Bark!” I yelled. “Here!” But he didn’t come back. He growled. “Geez,” I shouted, getting up from the couch. The light hurt my eyes. I hadn’t even been drinking. It was the lack of sleep. Not enough water. I’d forgotten to eat anything besides popcorn.

  “Get off me!” someone said, only it sounded more like “Geddowffme!”

  “Ruth?” I rubbed my eyes, stumbling into the foyer. Ruth had her back pressed to the front door like she was about to be attacked.

  Bark was six or seven feet away from her, and just as scared as she was.

  “Get him off me!” she yelled.

  “He’s not on you.” I grabbed Bark’s collar anyway.

  “How did you get in?”

  She held up her key chain.

  “Nan’s not here,” I said, unsure if it was okay to say she was at Isaac’s.

  “Well, I’m meeting her here,” Ruth said, crossing her arms like I might attempt to forcibly remove her from the house. “We’re going to the farmers’ market.”

  “Cool,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon, then.” I wondered if I could sneak off to bed.

  “Is there coffee?” she asked.

  I wanted to say, “If you make it,” but I went into the kitchen to set up the percolator. She followed, opening the door to the patio without asking. I knew it wasn’t fair to be grumpy about it. She wouldn’t have asked Nan either. Nan wouldn’t have expected her to.

  Ruth was brusque with everyone, but I felt it acutely. She had boys. Five of them. Her husband had been an army sergeant. She didn’t have time for my soft spots.

  Once, when Nan bought me a frilly new comforter set, she told Ruth I woke up saying, “I feel like a princess.”

  Ruth said, “She is a princess,” in a tone that made me sure it was an insult, even though Nan took it as a compliment.

  Bark stayed by my side, staring Ruth down while I scooped coffee into the percolator.

  Ruth claimed her usual seat at the patio table. I grabbed a soy yogurt from the fridge and sat with her while I waited. I hated sitting on the patio, but I didn’t want to be rude. And I didn’t want to hear a monologue about how her youngest son, Joey, used to have antisocial behavior, but her husband wouldn’t stand for it, so Joey got over it. She was always going on about Joey, and how he was better than everyone else. I wasn’t sure if I should feel sorry for her other boys, or if it was better because she was too busy fussing over Joey to bother them.

  Bark rested his head on the table to stare at Ruth.

  “That dog is strange,” she said.

  I gave her a half smile and went back to my gross yogurt. The good thing about Ruth was that it didn’t matter if I answered when she talked.

  “My son Joey has a Mastiff,” she said. “Best-behaved dog I’ve ever seen. But, you know, Joey put the work in.”

  I held my tongue. I ate my yogurt. The words I wanted to say bubbled in my veins.

  “You can’t just let a dog do whatever they want,” she said. “You have to take them to obedience class. And you have to get a good one to begin with. From a breeder. Not a junkyard dog.”

  I was about to hit my boiling point when I heard the front door open.

  Bark ran to the door, but didn’t howl, happy to see Nan.

  “Yes! Really!” Nan said into her phone. “Bitsie lives right down the street—Well, you should—You should move here too—” She waved at Ruth. Covering the speaker on her phone, she grinned at me and said, “You’re such a stinker!”

  I sniffed my armpit. Nan laughed, but I wasn’t sure if it was at me or the person on the line. She walked away, phone to her ear.

  Thankfully, Ruth had moved on from the Mastiff. “Joey’s got a watch that hooks up to his phone,” she said. “Like Dick Tracy.” She held her wrist to chin level. “Just like Dick Tracy!”

  From the other room, I heard Nan’s cocktail party laugh, rich and arching like church bells.

  “You know,” Ruth said, pointing at me, “I like your hair that length. It’s good on you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, thrown. That was the thing about Ruth, she wasn’t always mean, and when she was nice, I felt like a jerk for writing her off.

  Ruth beamed like she’d bestowed magic upon me; an awkward smile that showed all her teeth. It occurred to me that I didn’t actually like her. She was loud and rude, and despite all her bluster, she bruised easily if someone disagreed with her. I’d never felt like I was allowed to pass that kind of judgment on an adult. Adults were fixed entities, and it had been my job to keep up, fit in, be quiet and good and nice enough for them to want me around. But now I was an adult, and Ruth made me uncomfortable. She wasn’t my friend, she was Nan’s, and I’d never made any kind of choice about spending time with her. I didn’t hate her, but I didn’t like her, and maybe that meant I could stop caring about whether she liked me.

  Nan joined us, done with her call. “That was my old friend Hannah.” She squeezed my shoulder again. “And I think this one here had something to do with that.”

  I worried maybe I’d done the wrong thing, but she sat next to me, smiling, and said, “Oh, Kay, thank you. It was lovely to hear her voice
again.” To Ruth, she said, “She’s a senator’s wife! Patrick Novak from Maryland.”

  “Fancy!” Ruth said, fanning herself. “Must be nice.”

  I thought I saw a hint of irritation flash on Nan’s face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Isaac was sheepish when I got to work. I wanted to tell him I was fine with Nan spending the night at his place, but I couldn’t think of how to word it so it wouldn’t sound like I was giving him permission. Instead, I put my best effort into acting like everything was normal, and eventually, our awkwardness faded.

  Isaac played Mos Def for most of the morning. After we finished the orders, he helped me work out the details for Nan’s costume.

  When I got home, Nan and Bitsie were in the living room, shouting. Nan had Woo Woo on FaceTime on her phone, and Bitsie had Audrey on hers. They’d swiped my computer, and a woman I assumed to be Hannah was on that screen. Bark was wedged between Nan and Bitsie on the couch, whipping his head back and forth, trying to figure out which one he should watch. It was so much chaos that none of them heard me come in.

  “I think there’s a better way to do this,” I said. The three of them looked up. Bark jumped off the couch to greet me.

  “It’s working fine,” Nan said, holding up Woo Woo to Bitsie’s phone so she could say hi to Audrey.

  “Look at you!” Audrey said to Woo. The volume was turned all the way up to static on both phones. “This is amazing!”

  Bitsie chimed in, smushing my computer into the mix. “Audrey! It’s Hannah!” I don’t know if they could even see each other, but Audrey and Hannah let out shrieks of excitement. They didn’t have a high expectation of clarity from these magic moving picture phones.

  I laughed. Nan and Bitsie turned the phones and computer to face me.

  “Oh my god!” Audrey shouted. “Is that your granddaughter, Nannette?”

  “Yes!” Nan said, turning the phone back to look at it.

  “She’s a grown woman!” Audrey said.

  “She has your nose,” Hannah said, nodding.

  “Hi! Thank you,” I said, feeling a bit dazed. It was strange to see them in action after studying the pictures of their mermaid days so carefully.

  “Tell them what you need,” Nan said.

  “I need you to send me your measurements so I can make the costumes. I’ll show you where to measure. And then we can talk through the photo requirements.” I still had my tape measure from work in my pocket. I pulled it out and measured my hips, waist, and bust in the fake kind of way a flight attendant gestures through the motions of putting the oxygen mask on yourself first.

  “Why don’t we come there for fittings?” Woo Woo said.

  “Well, since this is for a fundraiser, we thought it would make sense to keep costs down by doing it this way,” I said. “I don’t think it will be hard to get someone to measure you. Do you have a local tailor—”

  “Pish,” Woo said. “I want to see you ladies!”

  “That would be much more fun!” Hannah said.

  The conversation derailed into possible travel plans and who could stay where. I went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. When I got back, Nan was asking Hannah about the political accuracy of Scandal. Audrey and Woo Woo were holding up photos of grandbabies while Bitsie made a fuss over their chubby little toes. There was no jumping back in.

  * * *

  A few hours later, I got a Facebook message from Audrey.

  Please tell the others I can’t make it. I’m starting chemo this week. It was so nice to see their faces. I hope you’ll send pictures.

  I wrote back, Of course. And added a heart. I’d break the news to Nan later, once the excitement died down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  We had two separate bridal parties at the shop the next day. In between, Isaac helped me figure out a plan for Bitsie’s fringe mermaid top. We worked out a prototype with some leftover cotton jersey and bra pads, and brainstormed better fabrics for the real thing. I kept expecting to feel awkward about constructing a bra with my grandmother’s boyfriend, but it wasn’t strange at all. It was Isaac. We were both well versed in all manner of bodies and the ways to cover them.

  The second bride’s gown was a work of art, handed down from her mother. Raw silk, impeccably draped. Perfect stitching. It was heaven to work on such a lush creation.

  Spending time with Isaac had new meaning. I watched the way he offered a hand to the bride as she stepped down from the tailor stand. He had a box of tissues at the ready for her mother when she saw her daughter in the dress. These gestures were not new to me, but they carried greater weight because I knew Nan was receiving his kindness and care too.

  * * *

  When I got home, there was a red pickup truck parked on the street in front of the house. I kicked my shoes off in the foyer and dropped my keys on the table. Nan and Bitsie were in the kitchen using their company voices. I took a breath to steel myself.

  “And then,” Bitsie shrieked, “he put it back on the plate! Like nothing happened!”

  Nan laughed. There was male laughter too. But it wasn’t Isaac or Lester or Uncle Jackie. It was a younger voice, clearer. I hoped against hope it was Bunny’s son, Chuckie. He was sweet to Bitsie, and didn’t require anything of me. That would be the best-case scenario. Most of the other scenarios involved a cocktail party, but Chuckie was quiet like me, and people actually listened to his preferences.

  Bark snuck over, bringing Murray to me. I gave Murray a squeak and passed him back. Bark wagged his tail so hard his entire backside wiggled. He followed me to the kitchen. The owner of the male voice had his back to me. Brown hair, not gray. But he was shorter than Chuck, and thin.

  Bark flopped on the carpet in the hallway and gave me a look that seemed to say, This is as far as I go. He dropped Murray, resting his chin on top of him, like a portable pillow. I gave Bark’s head a scratch before heading into the kitchen.

  “Oh, there she is,” Nan said.

  The guy turned around.

  It was Luca.

  Right there. In the kitchen. Smiling at me. My knees wobbled. I stepped back. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, I thought, willing myself to keep it together, mostly winning.

  “Hey, Kay,” Luca said, standing up.

  I’d been wearing the leather bracelet he’d made me in college since I found it in my desk. I slipped it off behind my back and shoved it in my pocket.

  Luca hugged me and I felt like I was hovering above us watching. Did I smell? Did I have lint in my hair? Was my fly open? I worried he’d feel me shaking if I let him hug me too hard.

  He didn’t smell like Old Spice anymore, just bright and soapy with a hint of musk.

  “When did you get here?” I asked. “How?” I didn’t know what question I should be asking. There was a part of me that wanted to hear “I came because I’ve lived without you for too long and I don’t want to go another second.” There was another part of me that wanted to run, fast and hard to the street, away, away, away.

  “Nan and I did a little messaging,” Luca said. “I was in Savannah working on a friend’s project. But we wrapped yesterday, so I came to help figure out this whole mermaid thing.” He grinned. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course,” I said, the quake in my voice obvious. I shot Nan a look. She was still signed in to my Facebook account on her phone. That’s how this happened. She smiled at me, oblivious to any hint of transgression. I knew if I called her on it, she’d say it wasn’t any different from me emailing Hannah. But as far as I knew, Nan had never been madly in love with Hannah.

  Luca kissed my cheek. “It’s so good to see you.”

  His hair was different. Short on the sides and messy on top in a way that left me wondering if it was the result of a lot of work, or none at all. He had the same familiar scruff on his chin, and his brown eyes still held the brightness that made my heart swell.

  “Kay!” Bitsie said. “Show him your sketches!”

  I la
ughed. “Oh, hey, how were the last six years? Want to see my sketches?”

  Luca laughed too.

  “We were telling him all about your designs,” Nan said. “But I didn’t want to go in your room to get them.”

  “So you have some boundaries,” I said, trying to make my voice sound like I was telling a joke.

  “In case you had nudie pictures in that sketchbook,” Bitsie said, talking over me. Luca laughed politely, and I could tell it was a joke that had already been made at least once.

  “You know, I just got home from work. I’m going to take a minute to get settled.” I looked at Luca. “You’re okay?”

  “I’ve been promised a martooni,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

  In my room, I twisted my frizzed-out hair into a bun that looked casual, but neater than it would look otherwise. I bit at my lips to puff them up and added a fresh coat of mascara over what I was already wearing. I sprayed perfume at my pits, grabbed my sketchbook, and went back out. It took five minutes tops, but it didn’t matter.

  “Did you fall asleep in there?” Nan asked. Cocktail Party Nan had a comment for everything.

  “Yeah,” I said, so glad I hadn’t excused myself to use the bathroom, because she was known to make the same joke.

  Luca was watching me and it was hard not to feel self-conscious. Did I look too different? Not different enough?

  Nan poured gin in the shaker. “None for me,” I said.

  Bitsie pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Isaac and I have the wedding party from hell tomorrow. I can’t be hung over.”

  Nan smiled. “I heard about that mother of the bride.”

  “She gets upset every step of the way, but when we suggest she go elsewhere, she insists we’re the best.”

  “Did I come at a bad time?” Luca asked.

  “No, no. I have to put in a couple hours in the morning, but I think I can be back around noon. Is that okay?” As soon as I said it, I felt awkward. Maybe it was presumptuous of me to assume he wanted to spend time together. Maybe he only came to help Nan.