by Maribel Fox
“No, he needs to learn to listen,” the boy says firmly. “Ninja, come.”
Nora makes a face as her friend continues to issue commands without results. “Suit yourself,” she mumbles before making her way over to me.
“Hi again!” she says brightly, glancing over her shoulder still.
“Hi.”
“You’re using your feet,” she says, smiling down.
I snort. She’s got me there.
“Yeah… Figured I’d give it a shot,” I lie. “Haven’t found anything yet, though.”
“You were on the boat, right?” she asks, though I’m not sure how she’d know that. Maybe she saw us coming into dock? “Did you find anything in the bay?”
“Unfortunately not,” I admit, shoulders slumping. I’m sure she’s got an innocent interest in this, but right now, it’s making me feel like more of a failure. “Just a pretty rock,” I joke holding up the blue glass-like stone Miles gave me.
“I’ve got one like that too,” Nora says with a sage nod.
“What?”
“My good luck rock,” she says, reaching deep into the pockets of her black dress. She makes a fist in the pocket, and when she pulls her hand out, the smell makes me gag.
“Oh god, what’s that?” I groan, covering my mouth and nose with my hand. There’s a slimy ball of dripping brownish-reddish-greenish… is that meat?!
“Treats for Ninja!” Nora exclaims, picking out a chunk of the fetid meat, apparently oblivious to the flies buzzing around it. She chucks it in the direction of the other kid and the splashing coming from the tide pool, and there’s an answering groan.
“Nora! He’s never going to learn!”
Nora gives me a sheepish look before extracting a bluish stone from the mass of rotting flesh. I barely give it half a glance before trying to back away from her and the awful smell as quickly as I can.
“It’s very pretty,” I tell her, trying not to gag again. I turn my head toward the bay and breathe through my nose, hoping the salty air will clear some of that lingering stench. “But I’ve got to go I’m afraid,” I say, still making a retreat. I don’t know what it is with this kid, but I’m not sticking around to find out why she’s trying to start a maggot farm in her dress pocket.
The slightest nag of guilt pangs through me with her disappointed look, but then a fly buzzes past my ear and I don’t feel so bad anymore. Someone needs to tell her this isn’t normal. It’s not how you make friends.
She’s got a friend, though, the mean voice in my head points out. More than I can say for myself, really. Unless I count Rue. Which I don’t. Friendly as we might be, she’s a bartender — that’s closer to therapist than friend in my books.
With the day’s light fading, the sweep of the lighthouse becomes more prominent over the water, the bright light kissing the tips of huge rocks and otherwise hidden perils. So many nights I spent as a kid running up and down this beach with only the light of the moon and the lighthouse. So many nights I had to sneak out because I wasn’t supposed to be on the beach, and during the day it was much more likely Dad would catch me.
It’s crazy to think this is still the same beach. How just a few years can make the forbidden possible. It’s no less special to me now than it was then, but there’s still this bittersweetness about it. For all the reasons I was banned to begin with, all the pain spiderwebbing from one incident, rippling through to all parts of our lives.
“Ow!” I hop to one foot, a sharp pinch on my other ankle making me jump back in panic, searching the dark rocks for the crab or urchin that got me, trying to avoid further injury. Heat blooms from the spot on my ankle, but it’s not the hot poison sting of an urchin. When I touch the spot, I feel blood, just enough that it’s starting to trickle towards my foot.
It only takes a second of looking around for me to spot the sharp rock that did the damage. It mostly looks like an ordinary rock, but sticking out from the surroundings, there’s a jagged blue edge.
It’s getting dark and hard to see, but it looks like the same bright blue from the rock Miles found me. I pick it up and turn it over. The rock Miles found in the bay is blue on all sides, smooth like obsidian, sharp and glassy, too. This is more like a geode. There’s one side that’s plain, ordinary rock, and the other has this blue crystal stuff on it.
Probably a coincidence but finding a couple of pieces of this stuff has my curiosity piqued at least. Did I ever find stuff like this as a kid? Maybe it’s some kind of local gemstone. Or maybe it’s from a thermal pocket. Maybe it’s from a shipwreck. Maybe it’s useless trash that’s floated in from China that only looks pretty. I won’t know until I do some research, maybe send a sample off to the lab.
I wish I could get my hands on my old collection, all the stuff I picked up here as a kid, the treasures I thought worth holding onto. But gaining access to my old stuff would mean seeing my dad again.
That’s the last thing I want to do. Even if Dad kept all that crap all these years — and that’s a mighty big ‘if’ — showing up to see that without any intention of talking to him would be pretty low. Even all things considered. My dad’s done a lot wrong, a lot of things I don’t agree with, but I’m not that cruel. I’ll keep my distance and hope it works better than it did with Miles.
6
Miles
“Brought you one too,” Troy says, passing me an open beer bottle as he sinks down onto the couch next to me with a heavy groan I feel all the way in my bones. He takes a long drink of his beer, and I do the same, listening to the sounds of my mom and sisters cleaning up after dinner. I’d be in there helping if there was any room, but it’s crowded enough already.
“Uncle Miles, when are you going to take us on the boat again?” Heidi asks, climbing up on the couch between me and her dad, crawling over my lap to look me in the eyes.
“Not any time soon with this weather,” Lynn says, peering around the corner with her eyebrows furrowed at her oldest.
“Aw,” Heidi pouts, sticking out her lower lip, looking at me for an appeal.
“Your mom’s right,” I say, making my niece collapse across the couch onto her dad’s lap. I know better than to cross my sister. Especially when it comes to her kids. She might be younger than me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared of her.
“Of course I am,” Lynn says, marching into the living room with her hands on her hips. Troy sips his beer, unfazed by his kid squirming across his lap, or the other one coming to tug on his arm for something. “And I’m right about you coming to stay with us, so when are you going to stop being so stubborn?” she asks, plucking the beer bottle out of my hand to steal a drink.
Ella snorts, wiping her hands on a dish towel before she joins us. “You’re not trying to get him to leave his boat again, are you?”
Lynn purses her lips. “This weather’s too nasty for him to be out there. It can’t be safe on that little houseboat. The thing’s practically falling apart!”
“It’s in fine condition,” I protest, defensive on my boat’s behalf. Besides, it’s not like a little wind and rain is going to hurt me. I’m much safer in the water than Lynn knows.
“Well you’ve got a place at our house if you ever spring a leak,” Troy says, trying to diffuse the tension between his wife and brother-in-law. I appreciate the offer, but there’s no way I’m abandoning my house. Not unless we get a tsunami.
“Wait! Give that back!” Aaron shouts from somewhere else in the house. The sound of a herd of elephants barrels down the stairs, the twins leading the chase.
“No running in the house!” Ella cries, the fight totally gone from her voice. Aaron’s only a couple of steps behind the twins, but Dad manages to horse-collar him, stopping the whole procession.
“What’s going on?” Dad asks Aaron, looking down with that stern, steely gaze that still makes all his adult kids squirm.
“The twins took my book!” he whines, looking over toward the adults gathered on the couch. “Dad?”
�
�They’re three years younger than you, how’d they take it?” Troy asks, unsympathetic.
“You’d be surprised what they can do when there’s two of them,” Ella mutters, the dark circles under her eyes more prominent than I remember. Can’t be easy raising two boys on her own. The twins are always getting into trouble; Ella just doesn’t have the energy to deal with them.
I get up, stealing my beer back from Lynn as she swaps spots with me and snuggles in next to Troy. She’s drank half of it, but I don’t say anything about it. Instead, I head into the kitchen, finding the twins giggling, using Mom as a shield.
“What’d you do with it?” I ask, eyebrow arched. I don’t know what it is about being an uncle, but it’s really the best of both worlds — kids respect me and listen to me more than their parents half the time, but we still get to have fun and goof around.
Logan looks like he’s going to spill the beans, but just when he opens his mouth, Lucas elbows him.
“What’d they do now?” Mom asks, stepping back from the sink to give them a withering look. “I know they wouldn’t want to miss out on dessert, would they?”
This time, Logan dodges Lucas’s elbow and dives under the kitchen table. When he comes back, he’s holding a comic book that’s curled at the corners.
“We just wanted to look at it,” he grumbles, handing it over, ignoring the daggers his twin’s shooting his way.
“Did you ask if you could look at it?”
“We wanted to look at it better,” Lucas says, and I get the feeling that they had more in store for the book than just ‘looking’ but I’ve recovered Aaron’s lost property so I’m not going to dwell on it anymore. It’s not my place to interrogate them about motives.
“Aaron didn’t want you to take it. You should probably apologize if you want to see any more of his stuff ever again.”
Neither of the twins looks pleased about that, but I’ve done my job and Ella’s standing in the kitchen doorway looking reluctant to step in. I feel for her, but not enough to take over her parenting duties.
Back in the living room, April, the youngest of my nieces and nephews, is sat on Dad’s lap, being fed some of the mixed nuts he always keeps by his recliner. She’s totally grandpa’s little angel, got him wrapped around her finger.
“Here you go bud,” I say, handing Aaron his comic book back.
He snatches it away and clutches it to his chest.
“What do you say?” Lynn prompts.
“Yeah, thank your uncle for getting that for you. You need to take better care of your stuff or we’re gonna stop buying it for you,” Troy says, finishing off his beer with a hard look at his only son. Aaron’s bottom lip quivers a little, but he’s working hard to keep a stiff upper lip when he looks my way.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, heading back upstairs where he can read in peace.
Lynn watches her son go up the stairs with a conflicted expression, and I don’t know what to do about the weird tension suddenly in the air. Seems like we’re all thinking the same thing — not liking how Troy handled Aaron just now — but no one’s going to say anything. The silence stretches into an awkward lull, punctuated by April’s occasional crunching of a cashew.
“Calypso Seaver’s back in town,” I say the first thing that comes to mind, just to break the silence.
Why the hell did you mention her? I instantly curse myself, inwardly wincing about the barrage I’m about to get.
“You’re kidding!” Lynn exclaims, sitting up straighter, eyebrows high. “Since when? It’s been a long time since she’s come back, hasn’t it?”
“Are you two seeing each other again?” Ella asks.
“Why didn’t you bring her over? It’d be great to catch up,” Lynn adds.
God, why did I mention Callie?
Cause she’s in your head.
And now she’s in my sisters’ heads too. They’ve already latched on; I can see it in their expressions. They’re both eager for the distraction, and they’ve always loved Callie. Back when we still hung out all the time, my sisters were always trying to tag along, but it wasn’t me pushing them away.
Callie’s never been much of a people person. She’s the kind of person that has a couple of people that matter, but the rest are pretty irrelevant. While we were really close friends, she didn’t really feel the same closeness to my sisters, and I wasn’t about to fight for them to be around to get in my way of going after the girl. Course Lynn and Ella have no idea; they probably think I was the jerk that wouldn’t let my sisters play with me.
Maybe I was a jerk. They turned out all right though, didn’t they?
“We weren’t ever seeing each other,” I say, focusing on the immutable past instead of the present.
Ella purses her lips. “Come on,” she protests, hands on hips. “We were younger than you, but we’re not stupid, Miles, give us some credit.”
“Yeah, everyone knows you’ve been head over heels for Callie Seaver since you were building sandcastles on the beach. No point in denying it now.”
“Uncle Miles has a girlfriend?” Heidi asks, twisting around to look at me with big sea glass-green eyes, smirking at my expense.
“No.”
“Not that he’s admitting,” Lynn says with a smirk identical to her daughter’s. They’re like carbon copies, and they’re ganging up on me. Not fair.
“So?” Ella asks, leaning on the arm of the couch to rest her shoulder against mine.
“So what?”
“So are you seeing her?” she asks impatiently.
“I told you—”
“Then why’d you bring her up?” Lynn challenges.
“We’re… Well we’re working together,” I finally admit.
Ella’s brows shoot up. “You are? On what?”
I shrug, trying to stay nonchalant, not making eye contact with anyone. “She’s looking for something in the bay. Needs a boat. Nothing more.”
“Ooh, a mystery. What’s she looking for?” Lynn asks, stealing her husband’s fresh beer.
“No clue. She’s paying me to drive the boat, not ask questions.”
Both my sisters share a look with each other, smirks all around.
“It’s not like that, really,” I insist, but neither of them says anything. There’s no point in arguing about it anymore. They’re convinced — always have been — that me and Callie are destined to be together. It’s a load of fairytale idealism they got from watching too many princess movies. Callie and I could never work out. I learned that at sixteen and I accepted it a long, long time ago. Not right then, of course, but I’ve had over a dozen years to come to terms with the reality of things and I’m not going to let my sisters’ optimism push me into backsliding.
Telling myself that I’m not going to backslide and this is all just a working professional relationship only does so much, though. When morning comes with its hazy gunmetal gray sky and I’m waiting for Callie to appear, it all goes out the window. I don’t know what to do with myself — below deck is far too cramped for the pacing I want to do, but the upper deck is slick as ice with the thin sheet of rain steadily accumulating. I settle for sitting on the stairs, bouncing my knee with an anxious eye always on the clock.
If it’s just professional, if it’s not anything then why do I feel like I should comb my hair or trim my beard?
I jump up the minute I hear her footsteps above, and I’m pushing the door open just as she knocks.
“Oh!” she cries, jumping back, slipping on the deck. I lunge out to grab her before she falls, since there’s nothing nearby for her to hold onto, and she steadies, cheeks flushing.
“It’s… wet,” she mutters, pulling out of my grip.
“It’s raining,” I answer.
“Can we still dive?”
I look up at the sky with a shrug. It’s gloomy and dark, but there’s no signs of lightning right now, and the wind is fairly calm compared to the last few days.
“Should be all right for now at least. Who kn
ows what the weather will do later.”
“Right,” she says, licking her lips, glancing at the water nervously.
She was like this on the boat yesterday too. It’s hard to believe that someone who loves the ocean and the beach as much as Callie could be so terrified of it. I know a lot of it has to do with her mom, and I understand her hesitation, but I can’t tell if that’s all this is or if she’s wanting to back out completely and doesn’t know how.
“You still want to?” I ask. “I’m willing to be your designated diver.”
Her brows furrow at that and she shakes her head firmly. “No. I need to be down there. I need to see it with my own eyes. I need to learn.”
“Suit yourself,” I say with a nod, heading to the storage box nearby. I unlock it, pull out a suit that should fit her, and toss it over.
“Suit…” she mutters, holding it up. “Ha ha, very funny.”
“Was there a joke?”
Callie’s mouth parts slightly, then she snaps her jaw shut and shakes her head. “No, never mind. Let’s do this.”
The whole time I’m helping Callie get used to the water and moving in her suit, I can tell she’s struggling to keep it together. She’s pale and shaking and it’s not just from the near-icy water. She’s on the verge of panicking, but every time I ask if she wants to get out, she insists we keep going.
After a couple of hours, we start going underwater for a few seconds at a time, working on going a little deeper, staying under for a little while longer each time. I have to pay close attention to her for signs that we’ve been under long enough, since I’m not going to run out of breath or go into shock from the cold.
Callie’s a trooper. She always has been, and despite her obvious nerves, the way she moves underwater is captivating. Her body seems to melt into the waves, her hair taking on a life of its own, swaying like delicate coral.
It’s getting late, though. I know we’ve made more than enough progress to call it a day and I don’t want her to get over-tired. That’s when easily avoided accidents happen. I give her the signal to go up and she nods. Halfway to the surface, I look over and she’s not there. I look around and she’s going the other way, heading down instead of up.