––William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying
The following morning, Saturday, Meg Brennan arrived at Nina’s shack driving a recreational vehicle with two kayaks on it, announcing: “Great weather! Love this weather! Dramatic!”
Nina, who’d arisen some time earlier, stepped out onto her porch and sniffed the air.
It was not great weather, but somber, wet, gray weather.
Still, Meg’s exuberance seemed to warm it up and dry it out.
“You had breakfast, Nina?”
“Yep. Bacon and eggs. What’s going on, Meg?”
“Congratulations on the Logansport game! I heard all about it!”
“Thanks!”
“Can’t believe you got tossed! Took me two years coaching before I had my first ejection!”
“Yeah, well, I’m a fast learner!”
“You sure are! Hey, wanna talk about Hattiesburg?”
“Of course I do!”
“I’ll tell you everything I know. I’ve only got about a hundred or so pages of notes and play diagrams to use against them.”
“Ok then, come on up.”
“I’ve got a better idea; let’s go kayaking!”
Nina shook her head:
“I don’t know how to kayak.”
“You don’t know how to coach basketball, either. But somehow, you do. You’re wonder woman.”
“I don’t want to drown.”
“You won’t drown. I’ll teach you how to kayak—and we’ll talk Hattiesburg!”
She thought about it; what was the harm?
It would get her mind off April van Osdale, off being stood up, and off the ridiculous examinations that she’d been forced to administer the day before.
“All right. What do I wear?”
“Wear your kayaking stuff!”
“Got it.”
She went back inside, changed into her ‘kayaking stuff’—which consisted of a pair of Nikes, a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of sweatshirts, one worn over the other—and in five minutes, Meg was sliding open for her the door of the van.
Nina felt as though she was staring into a sporting goods store.
There were tennis rackets, bowling shoes, golf clubs, kayak paddles—two of which Meg grabbed casually and threw behind her out on the driveway—and softballs. There were running shoes and running shoes and more running shoes. There were dumbbells and barbells and hats and caps and sunglasses and tubes of suntan lotion (which, thought Nina, neither of them could have ever needed).
“My God, you’ve got everything in here!”
“Jenn and I like to be ready for all emergencies, sport wise.”
“Where is Jennifer?”
“She’s running the shop.”
“I must say, Meg, you guys seem to be taking this pretty well.”
The two women had climbed into the van by now; Meg started the engine, backing carefully out of the driveway while nodding and saying:
“We’ve been through worse. We’ve been through a lot worse. I was just caught off balance the other day at school. But I’ll get another job. In a way, I’m kind of glad to be out of this one. I loved working for Paul, but this…”
“Don’t say it.”
“I know. Hey, let’s talk Hattiesburg.”
And they did.
They talked about nothing but zones, pick and rolls, press strategies, psychological ploys, players’ strengths and weaknesses, and every other possible matter, while pine forests grew denser on either side of the two lane road as they wound their way north.
They also talked, of course, about the McNulty sisters.
“They’re both six four, Nina. And believe me, they’re mucho tough. Theresa and Nicki. One of them slapped twenty four on us last year; the other eighteen.”
“How do you stop them?”
“You don’t stop them. Nobody stops them. That’s why Hattiesburg won state last year. All you can do, maybe, is slow them down. But when they alternate down low and move the way they can from free throw line to baseline—and given the fact that Hattiesburg has superb guard play as well, it’s just tough.”
“How much did you lose by last year?”
“We lost by eighteen, but it felt like more. Of course, we were at their place; this year they have to come to us.”
“Well. That’s something.”
“You plan to get thrown out again?”
“No, but I’ll have my say.”
“You know the whole town’s talking about you.”
“It seems like that’s happened before; twice in fact.”
“Yeah, but that was about solving murders. This is about sports; it’s serious. You’re everybody’s hero. I can tell you, the gym’s going to be packed Friday night. Oops! Here’s our cutoff!”
Meg braked and turned into what appeared little more than a cow path. The van bounced for half a mile or so, and came to a stop at the edge of a clearing.
“The stream’s down there! It’s almost white water for two miles or so, then it flows into a small lake. We’ll kayak down into the lake, then hike back and get the van. There’s a way to drive back to the lake where we’ll pick up the kayaks so that we don’t have to carry them back. This kayak trail was the first one Jenny and I tried after we’d moved to Bay St. Lucy. Come on! Help me get these kayaks off the roof of the van!”
She did so to the best of her ability. There were two kayak beasts for them to battle against, one bright yellow and the other an even brighter red.
The fight was uncertain for a time but ultimately they won. Finally, the boats lay begging at their feet. The two women passed a quiet moment of mental exultation, after which Meg clapped a palm on Nina’s shoulder and said:
“Now we have to get you outfitted. Primary rule among kayakers: life jacket. Here’s one that fits me pretty well. We’re about the same size. Put it on.”
Nina took it in her hand, unclamped a few elastic bands, slipped it around her, snugged it back down to her, thumped her palms once or twice on her now greatly expanded chest, and deemed herself ready.
“It’s good.”
“Not too tight?”
“Nope.”
“All right. Try this helmet.”
The helmet was a good thing too, because rain was starting—she could hear droplets spattering on its vinyl surface—and because it, along with the jacket now protecting and enlarging her torso, made her feel like a football player.
She almost wanted to take off running toward the stream, which she could hear running beneath them, somewhere hidden in the dense forest.
But that was impossible, of course, because of the kayak lying there.
“First,” shouted Meg, above the roar of an increasing wind, “stretch a bit. Do what I do; you don’t want to pull a back muscle.”
She could not do what Meg did, of course, but she could do half of it, bending halfway to the ground, twisting halfway into a pretzel, etc.
But finally it was time to attempt the job at hand:
“Have you ever picked up and carried a kayak?”
“No.”
“It’s not that hard. This one just weighs forty pounds. So, stand right in the center of it.”
“Here?”
“Yeah, that’s good. Now crouch down, and pull it up so that the cockpit opening is against you.”
“Cockpit?”
“The hole in the middle where you’re going to sit.”
“Why don’t they just call it a hole?”
“I don’t know. But do it.”
“Ok.”
“There you go, that’s good. You’ve got it snug against you. Now bend down low and get your shoulder under the edge of the kayak. When you feel that edge cutting into your shoulder just a little bit, then plant your feet, take a deep breath, and stand up.”
“Can I do this?”
“Sure you can! All the lifting’s going to be done with your legs. You’d be amazed at how strong they are. Nina, you could probably lift a double kayak. Come on
now, do it!”
She braced herself, took a deep breath, counted one, two…
…and stood up!
And she could do it!
She was doing it!
“Hoorah for Nina!”
“Wow,” she said, rocking back and forth from one foot to another, “it’s not that bad!”
“Told you so!”
The weight of the kayak was cutting slightly into her shoulder, but all in all the boat seemed much lighter than she’d expected.
“Wait for me a second…”
Meg hoisted her own load as though it were a sack of groceries and said:
“The stream is down there to our right. I’m pretty sure I remember the path; it’s a little overgrown but not too bad. Now come on, follow me.”
And off the two of them trekked.
Nina had not gone ten feet before the forest had surrounded them. The already dark morning closed in, rain spattering on dense foliage, and the ground springy and soft beneath her sneakers.
She fell into a march rhythm, one two one two behind the steadily pacing form in front of her, and she began to realize a sense of—what was it?
It was near exultation.
The wind, strong as it was, was not actually cold, and the rain was movie rain: she could watch it and hear it but not feel it. It had no effect on her.
What did have an effect on her was the adventure of the thing, though. She was not feeding her cat; nor sipping tea in Margot’s garden; nor reading a book nor walking idly along the beach.
She was doing this entirely outrageous and unplanned thing, a thing she’d never done before or even dreamed of doing, a thing that other people did, bizarre people, people who squinted against the sun and climbed mountains and sailed around the world and caught marlin and––well, those kind of folks.
Just like two nights ago.
She was a basketball coach…and she was a kayaker?
What would Frank have thought?
“How you doing?”
“Good! Doing good!”
“Maybe a hundred yards more and we’re there! You up for it, Nina?”
“Sure!”
“All right then!”
They trudged on.
She could not free her mind of April van Osdale, though, despite the excitement this new world was supplying her with. What an outrageous thing to do to her. Invite her for dinner and simply not show up! And then, of course, there was the matter of Max Lirpa. He could not be allowed simply to ignore the tests. Someday April would find out, and then there would be more state troopers.
“Ok, here we are!”
Her reverie was shattered by the appearance of the stream, which hardly looked like a mere stream.
It may not have been the Mississippi River, being perhaps no more than fifteen feet wide.
But it was a pretty significant current of water at that, foaming and frothing, bits of branches and leaves spinning in tight, miniature whirlpools that sucked them under into the gray/green mud water, then spewed them up again a few yards farther along––
…yes, it was a pretty good little water stream at that.
And in a minute or so she was going to be on it.
Like one of those tiny branches.
Sucked under, spewed up.
Well, so be it!
“Ok, we’ll enter the stream here. Crouch down, and let the kayak slide off your shoulder.”
She did as she was told.
In a second, they were sitting together, their breaths coming faster, whether because of what they’d done or were about to do Nina did not know.
“Now, here we go…”
Meg was forced to shout, to be heard over the noise of the wind, the rain, and the fast flowing water.
“Put your left foot into the cockpit first, then be sure you’re balanced and slide over into it. I’ll give you a shove.”
“What do I do then?”
“The stream will take you. So go ahead, slide on in.”
All right, Nina told herself.
Left foot over, and in.
Now, slide on, slide on over…
…and in!
Knees cramped in front, leather seat behind, get straight get straight.
“Got your paddle?”
“Got it!”
“You’re off!”
A great push from behind and the stream had her, hissing along, sky now a slight band of open gray as the canopy of trees opened up.
She was aware of several things simultaneously: the undergrowth on either side of her blurring slightly as her speed increased; droplets of spray kicking up from her paddle as she dipped it—almost pointlessly since the stream was carrying her so fast anyway—first to the right and then to the left of the kayak; and two black crows flying directly above her, stationary now, their speed matched precisely by hers.
There was a sound behind her: Meg shouting something.
She could not make it out, her ears already too jammed with rushing water, roaring wind, paddle––banging on vinyl kayak side, and bird yammering from the wall of forest sliding past.
Certain landmarks did stand out: a gnarled tree that had fallen into the stream and was now reaching out with dead and rain-soaked limbs to grab her as she shot by; a huge rock, moss-covered and sodden, looking on dour and sullen, a fish that jumped, flat and shining-silver at a spot just five feet to her left as she took the paddle from the water and attempted to change sides.
“RRRgggg!”
The shout again.
Could she turn around?
She laid the paddle across the cockpit in front of her and did so.
The world reversed itself, with the creek now thundering away behind her and a bright yellow collaboration of human and vinyl that was now Meg Brennan motioning thumbs up.
She did the same, then turned back.
God this was fun!
She did become aware, at least momentarily, that she had no idea what to do in case she flipped over. She had read something about it, she knew that.
There was one thing you did have to do, and it was relatively simple. There was another thing you absolutely were not supposed to do, and it was simple too, and if you did it you would drown.
But she could not for the life of her remember what these things were.
And on and on they went, she and the little craft beneath her and the benignly hissing water and the twin crows that were her pilots, all navigating a straight course for the Great Gulf of Mexico.
Occasionally, there were rocks, the slime-green upper curves of them breaking the current, which shot past them uncaring, as it would have gone by statues of dead sea turtles; but Nina realized quickly that she could turn the boat with some dexterity, a few degrees right, a few left; so that, given time to see the obstacles approaching, she could contrive to miss them.
Unseen obstacles…
…well that was for another time.
If she hit something unseen she would tip over into the water and either drown or be rescued by the woman following behind her.
The rest be damned.
This lusciousness went on for an indeterminate amount of time, since time, in the middle of a fast flowing stream, alters its own flow, becoming something to match the perceptions of birds tree frogs snakes rocks crows ripples leaping fish and swirling eddies—and not the perceptions of human beings.
But after whatever the amount of minutes or seconds or hours or years it actually was, something did finally change.
The current, she could tell, began to slow.
The banks were farther from her now.
The entire stream turned itself to the right, and then continued to curve on, moving now at a forty five degree angle to the straight northerly flow of the clouds.
And in front of her, opening like a window, was a kind of lake, its water slow-moving and placid, its surface dotted with what seemed like jagged cypress knees rising amid rugs of green moss and lichen.
The boat slowed, slowed, slowed; th
e trees lost their blur and regained edges to their leaves; frogs, twin humps above their eyes giving away their position, squatted in an inch or so of water just at the shore line—
And Meg, pulling hard on her paddle, came abreast, shouting:
“How was it?”
“Great!”
“Exciting?”
“Incredible!”
“We have to paddle over to the right, now. We’ll beach the kayaks and rest for a while.”
They did beach, and within a minute they were sitting on the shore of a lake perhaps a hundred feet across, getting their breath, the boats sitting like psychedelic hunting dogs beside them.
As she bent forward and wrapped her arms around her knees a chorus of bullfrogs began to go off, the guttural groans mixing with all the other noises of this forgotten little jungle, unexplored for god knows how long.
Sometime later, their sense of intimacy having grown enormously out of basketball bonding, Nina surprised herself by asking:
“How was it for you two, at the first? When you first got to know each other and became…partners?”
Meg shook her head slowly, the bottom of her chin just touching each wing of her tightly closed life jacket.
“Not too bad. When you consider people’s attitudes back in those days. There were problems; but we had a lot going for us as a couple. We got through them.”
“Did you always know that you were gay?”
“Oh God, no! Girl Scout normal, both of us. Jenny growing up in Vermont, me in northern Mississippi. We both thought we had the perfect marriage. Then…it just went crazy. Hers and mine. Crazy.”
“What happened?”
“Everything started being miserable. Even the little things, the trips to the grocery store. Just hateful. Yelling at our husbands, our husbands yelling at us. And then we were divorced—I don’t even want to go into that—and then each of us was just floating around like something out on that lake. Somehow we each wound up getting jobs at a bank in a suburb of Vicksburg. Don’t even ask how we got to there. But we were working right beside each other, and, of course, we commiserated, and that led to lunches together, still no idea—well, you know. And then one day it happened. God I was shocked. I’m still not sure about Jenny. I think she may have seen it coming more than I did.”
Game Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 3) Page 19