Grace

by T. Greenwood

  She packed everything up into a picnic basket and tiptoed into the bedroom to grab her new suit, careful not to wake Kurt, and then ducked into the bathroom to try it on. It had arrived, along with all the other things she ordered a couple of weeks ago. She hadn’t tried it on yet, though, because all those packages just made her sad. She knew she should send them all back, get the charges taken off the credit card. She’d hidden the FedEx boxes and UPS envelopes in the back of her closet.

  She slipped the suit out of the plastic it was wrapped in and held the pieces up. She wriggled out of her jeans and T-shirt, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor as well. She pulled the top on and studied her reflection in the mirror. Definitely no Victoria’s Secret model, but she looked pretty good for thirty. She slipped the suit off again and pulled the paper panty liner out. She wouldn’t be returning this one.

  “I’ll be back after the fireworks,” she said to Kurt as she buckled Gracy into her booster. Kurt stood in the driveway, his eyes red and shadowed, his hair a mess.“Go back to bed. You look like hell,” she said and immediately regretted it.

  “Jeez, thanks,” he said.

  “Sorry. But seriously, get some sleep. I left some potato salad, and there are some burgers in the freezer for supper.” She put the picnic basket on the floor and shut the car door. As they backed out of the driveway, her spirits were lifted with every inch they drove away from the house.

  Gormlaith was about a forty-five-minute drive from Two Rivers. Twig’s family had a camp up there. They had a dock and a motorboat and water skis. She’d only been there a couple of times, and never for the Fourth of July. She was excited. It was the first time she’d looked forward to something since Kurt squashed their plans for a vacation. Elsbeth also missed Twig; she hadn’t really seen her since the night she colored Elsbeth’s hair. They’d communicated exclusively through sticky notes on the mirror.

  Hey, girlfriend! What’s new?

  Date tonight. Nothing to WEAR!

  I remember dates. LOL.

  HUNGOVER.

  Try Vitamin B.

  She hadn’t heard back from Wilder, which was just as well, even though it left her feeling a hollow pang of something unfinished. He’d most likely gone back to Florida by now. If he was looking to write a whole book about Two Rivers, he’d probably been pretty disappointed with what the town to offer. She’d only been able to offer him a little bit about the town’s history: just a couple of anecdotes and the stuff she’d learned in grade school. He’d wanted to know more about the beauty parlor, but she didn’t really know much of anything. Babette would have been able to help him: the real Babette. It was good he was gone; because she could hardly pretend she was Babette now the real Babette was back from Colorado. Elsbeth had been stupid. Impulsive and stupid. She thought about him flying back to Florida, looking over the notes he’d scratched in his notebook while they talked. He’d come for answers and instead just got some silly woman pretending to be somebody she wasn’t.

  She pulled into the driveway at Twig’s camp, and there were already about a half dozen cars parked in the driveway and all along the edge of the road. She hadn’t expected so many people. She recognized Mireya’s car right away. Mireya was Twig’s baby sister. Twig always had wild stories about her. She’d hitchhiked by herself to California during Easter break when she just fifteen. She got all the way to LA before their parents figured out where she’d gone. Mireya drove an electric blue Camaro; she waited tables at Luigi’s and was the 2009 New England regional karaoke champion runner-up. Elsbeth was also pretty sure she’d gotten a boob job last year.

  “Hi, Mookie!” Elsbeth said, bending down to pet Twig’s rescued mutt, who sniffed her legs and begged for attention. Ollie, Twig’s Italian greyhound, was barking behind the screen door.

  “Ollie, shut up! Sorry!” Twig hollered, coming to the door. “Hey, girls!” She rushed down the steps in her bikini, giving Elsbeth a big hug. Elsbeth could feel her ribs in her back. She’d been on this cabbage soup diet for two weeks already, and it seemed to be working. Twig took the picnic stuff and the beer Elsbeth had picked up at Hudson’s on the way. “Oh my God, I am so excited for your potato salad. If I ever see another bowl of cabbage soup, I’ll kill myself,” she said.

  Gracy giggled as Mookie smothered her with kisses, almost knocking her over with her giant paws.

  “Mookie, down!” Gracy reprimanded, still laughing even as she fell backward.

  “Come on in! I’ve got appletinis.” Twig winked and grabbed Elsbeth’s arm.

  There were only a couple of people inside the camp: a few women Elsbeth didn’t know gathered around the kitchen counter, a couple of guys playing pool at a pool table in the middle of the main room. Twig grabbed two keg cups, poured them drinks from a plastic pitcher, and handed one to Elsbeth. Then she led the way through the camp, wriggling her way past the guy who was lining up his shot, “Excuse me!” and through the living room to the sun porch.

  The whole cabin was so nice, exposed beams and hardwood floors, but the sun porch was the best. It was all windows, a whole wall of glass, through which you could see out over the spacious lawn to the lake. Elsbeth looked out the window, shielding her eyes against the glare of the sun. There were about twenty people outside, playing badminton on the lawn, lounging on beach chairs on the dock, and surrounding the gas grill. The smoke and smell of barbeque wafted up through the open windows.

  “Gracy, you wanna go swimming?” Twig asked. “I’ve got some floaties, some noodles?”

  “I already know how to swim,” Gracy said. “I moved up to Dolphins already. I can hold my breath for a really long time.”

  “Wow!” Twig said. “Will you show me?”

  “First let’s get some sunscreen on, sweetie,” Elsbeth said, reaching into her bag for the aerosol can of SPF 50, wishing she hadn’t put back the stolen stick of sunscreen at Walgreens. It would have been good for her nose and cheeks. But remembering the way the check-out girl had looked at her made her skin prickle.

  Outside, Gracy stripped out of her clothes; she was wearing her old yellow swimsuit underneath, and she stood with her arms and legs spread as Elsbeth coated her with a layer of sunscreen. The aerosol burned Elsbeth’s nose. The suit was too small, and something about this reignited her frustration with Kurt. Gracy should have clothes that fit. It didn’t matter so much now, but when she got older the other kids would notice. Make fun. They’d watched that happen with Trevor already, and the idea of Gracy being teased for something they could prevent made her hot.

  “Are there any other kids here?” Gracy asked.

  “Not yet, but there will be later for the fireworks,” Twig said. “Where’s your brother and daddy today?”

  Elsbeth felt her shoulders stiffen. “At home.”

  “How’s Kurt?’ Twig asked.

  “How should I know?” Elsbeth snapped. “I never see him anymore.”

  Sometimes with Twig, Elsbeth felt like all she did was bitch. She hated that she was always complaining. Twig never had much of anything to complain about. And even though Twig was a great listener, Elsbeth always seemed to feel worse after talking to her.

  “I saw him at the 76 the other night. He looked dog-tired,” Twig said, squeezing her arm sympathetically. “It must be real hard having him gone so much.”

  Elsbeth didn’t like to be pitied. “Yeah, but it’s totally temporary. We’re just saving up for a real vacation.”

  As soon as Elsbeth finished rubbing the sunscreen into Gracy’s shoulders, Gracy grabbed Elsbeth’s hand. “Come watch me swim!”

  “Okay, okay.” She laughed. She and Twig carried their drinks down to the water’s edge and found a couple of free lawn chairs at the grassy shore. Gracy waded into the water, shivering.

  Elsbeth sat down, sipping on the sweet green cocktail. Twig sat down next to her and clinked her cup. “Cheers.” The vodka was like liquid sunshine in her throat.

  When the drinks were gone and Elsbeth was feeling war
m and pleasant both inside and out, Twig said. “Let’s go in!”

  Elsbeth unzipped her jeans and wriggled out of them, pulled her tank top off over her head. She felt suddenly shy in her new suit. Exposed.

  “Cute suit! Victoria’s Secret, right? I think I have that one in red,” Twig said and then, as an afterthought, “But it looks so much better on you.”

  In the water, Elsbeth floated on her back, let the water fill her ears and stared up into the bright blue sky. The muffled sounds of the party felt far, far away. Everything: Kurt, Trevor. All of her problems seemed to drift away here. She helped Gracy swim out into the deeper water, holding on to her hands as Gracy kicked her feet behind her. They were light out here. Free. She wondered if swimming in the ocean was different. If the water was warmer; if it was harder to stay afloat. When Gracy started to shiver, her lips trembling and blue, Elsbeth said, “Let’s go get our towels. Take a break.”

  Back at the lawn chair, she wrapped Gracy up in her Sleeping Beauty towel like a burrito. She pulled her onto her lap and nuzzled her wet hair. “I love you, Gracy Bear,” she said.

  “I love you too, Mommy Bear,” Gracy replied.

  The sun quickly dried their skin.

  “Hey there,” a voice said.

  Elsbeth looked up, but without her sunglasses, she had to shield her eyes to see who was speaking.

  Wilder.

  “Hey,” she said, confused. What was he doing here? “What are you doing here?”

  “I came into the shop looking for you the other day, and I spoke with Babette.” He was smirking, his hands shoved into his pockets.

  Elsbeth felt her ears getting hot, her cheeks flushing with heat. She opened her mouth to explain, but nothing came out.

  “She looked at me like I was a lunatic.”

  “I’m sorry,” Elsbeth said, feeling mortified.

  Wilder smirked and shrugged. “So I said to her, ‘No, no, Babette. You know, beautiful girl with black hair? Dark eyes. About this tall.’ ” He motioned in the air with his hand; if she’d been standing, his palm would have been resting on the top of her head.

  “Oh God,” she said, shaking her head, realizing how insane he must have thought she was. Beautiful girl. “I am so embarrassed.”

  “You mind?” he asked, motioning to Twig’s empty seat.

  She shook her head, and he sat down.

  “When I was a little kid, I used to pretend I was Batman. I got a costume for Halloween and I wouldn’t wear anything else until after Christmas,” he said.

  She studied his face.

  “Sometimes, it’s more fun to be somebody else.”

  “I just ... I didn’t ... ugh.”

  “Anyway, luckily, Tamara was there and she helped me figure it all out.”

  “Twig,” Elsbeth said.

  Wilder cocked his head.

  “Her nickname’s Twig. Nobody calls her Tamara.” She didn’t know why she said that. It was true, but it still felt mean-spirited. She looked out at the lake. Twig was executing a perfect dive from the floating dock about a hundred yards out.

  “Well, anyway, Twig invited me today. She didn’t tell me you’d be here,” he grinned at her. “Just got lucky, I guess.”

  “I thought you’d be back in Florida already,” Elsbeth said, looking toward the water, concentrating on anything other than his eyes.

  “I leave next week.”

  “Oh,” Elsbeth said but she didn’t know whether to be happy or disappointed.

  “I’m going to interview some mermaids at Weeki Wachee next. For my book. My stepmother used to work there.”

  “Mermaids?”

  “It’s a roadside attraction. With mermaids. You know, with tails instead of legs?”

  She was aware suddenly of her legs. Of every hair she’d missed when she shaved that morning. Of the one purple bruise where she ran into the bumper of Jude’s goddamned Lincoln, which Kurt had towed to their house the other day.

  “And who’s this little mermaid?” Wilder asked, extending his hand to Gracy.

  Gracy scowled at him.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Whoever you are.”

  Gracy shook her head, refusing his outstretched hand.

  “Gracy, be polite,” Elsbeth said.

  “My daddy says for me never to talk to strangers,” Gracy said, shaking her head.

  “Wilder is not a stranger,” Elsbeth said, looking at Wilder apologetically.

  “He’s a stranger to me,” Gracy said, stubborn.

  Elsbeth felt her whole body flush with vodka and heat. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “No, she’s right. She doesn’t know me. Smart girl.” Wilder lowered his hand.

  Gracy crossed her arms against her chest. Elsbeth rolled her eyes and then immediately felt bad. Gracy was just doing what she’d been told to do. She was six; it wasn’t her fault.

  Twig came over then, wrapped up in a fluffy pink towel, and put her hand on Wilder’s shoulder. “So you decided to come after all.”

  Elsbeth stiffened. She wondered what else Twig had said to Wilder, wondered why she hadn’t bothered to tell Elsbeth that she’d been busted pretending to be Babette.

  “I see you’ve met Princess Grace?” Twig said, smiling.

  “I did,” he said.

  Gracy suddenly opened up, the scowl melting from her face as Twig tickled her.

  “You need to meet my sister,” she said to Wilder then. “I told her all about you. I think she ran to Hudson’s for more beers, but she’ll be back soon.”

  Elsbeth felt her heart sink and then her cheeks tingle with shame as Twig said, “Hey, can I steal him for a second? I need help getting the Jet Skis out of the boathouse.”

  “Sure,” Elsbeth said and watched as Twig and Wilder walked down toward the water, Twig laughing and punching his shoulder playfully. So she’d invited him here to meet Mireya. Then why was she being such a goddamned flirt? She watched Twig’s cabbage soup butt, her tanning bed tan, her perfect haircut. God, how could she feel such loathing for her best friend?

  Elsbeth had a second appletini with her lunch and was feeling drowsy and content. Gracy had started to fall asleep on the lawn chair right after lunch, and Twig had shown Elsbeth to a quiet room inside the camp where she could put her down to nap. In the clean, peaceful room, Elsbeth considered lying down herself.

  “I’ll be outside when you wake up, honey,” she whispered. “Or find Twig.”

  “Okay, Mumma,” she’d said sleepily and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

  Elsbeth went back outside where Mireya was organizing a game of horseshoes. Mireya, like Twig, was one of those women that men flocked to. Like flies on horseshit, Jude would say. Right now there were three men all vying for her attention, though Wilder wasn’t anywhere to be seen; Elsbeth felt a guilty twinge of relief.

  “Wanna play?” Mireya asked her.

  “No, that’s okay.” Instead, Elsbeth walked down to the dock, which was empty of people now. She sat at the far end and dangled her feet in the cool water. She felt footsteps behind her, the dock shifting and rocking beneath her with each step.

  “Hey, El! You wanna come with us? I’m going to take Wilder out to the island.” Twig was tipsy. She could tell by her crooked smile. She had a six-pack of beer tucked under one arm and a couple of life preservers under the other. She tossed them into the boat that was moored to the dock and started to climb in. Elsbeth thought about Twig taking Wilder out to the island and felt a little awful pang, like a rusty fishhook, somewhere inside her chest. Twig had been drinking; who knew what she might do. Maybe Mireya hadn’t been interested. Now he was fair game, at least in Twig’s book. None of this should matter, but it did.

  “Come on!” she said, reaching for Elsbeth’s hand. She glanced at her watch. Gracy had been down for a half hour. She probably had another hour or so until she woke up. She probably shouldn’t leave, but she felt herself nodding. “Sure, why not?”

  The ride out to the isla
nd only took a couple of minutes in the motorboat. And Elsbeth was grateful for the noise of the motor. She didn’t want to have to talk. She held on to her seat and closed her eyes against the wind, which stung her skin. She’d probably gotten sunburned. Twig cut the engine as they got close to the island. The sudden quiet was almost deafening. Elsbeth had figured they’d circle the island and then return, but Twig was steering the boat into a small cove, easing it in and throwing down the anchor.

  “You think it’s really still here?” Twig asked, grabbing Wilder’s arm.

  He shrugged. “I hope so.”

  “How long ago did he say he put it here?” she asked.

  “God, back in the sixties. Decades ago.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Elsbeth asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “A letter my father wrote. To Betsy, the girl from the photo at the beauty parlor. You know, you kind of look like her,” Wilder said, studying Elsbeth’s face.

  She couldn’t believe he’d noticed the resemblance too. As he examined her, she felt herself becoming Betsy Parker in his gaze.

  “He buried it inside some tree on this island.”

  “Why did he bury it?” Elsbeth asked.

  Wilder climbed out of the boat. She studied his strong forearms, the sleeves of his white cotton button-down shirt rolled up to the elbows.

  “They were best friends,” he said. “She didn’t know how he felt about her when they were kids. It was a secret.” He smiled at Elsbeth, and she felt her knees go soft. She tried to remember if Kurt had ever written anything to her besides grocery lists. She didn’t think so.

  “That’s so romantic,” Twig said, swooning.

  “I’m sure it’s probably disintegrated by now,” he said. “If it’s still there at all. But it can’t hurt to look.”

  They all got out of the boat and started walking through the tangled brush of the small island. There were some rusted beer cans, cigarette butts. Elsbeth suddenly thought about Jude, about all of that debris, and that made her think of Kurt. Of what he’d think if he saw her right now. She shook her head as if she could shake those thoughts loose.