Aquarium (8 page)

We took off our shoes and my mother drifted away and I hardly noticed. Smell of spices thick in the air, all that I smelled each day on Shalini at school but stronger now. Looking back, I’d guess it was clove and cardamom, turmeric and raisins, maybe even something sweeter, cinnamon or something else, but at the time, it was only a kind of magic, overwhelming. I had entered a new land entirely. This is what I’ve always loved about a city, all the worlds hidden away inside, largest of aquariums.

Shalini’s father wore a business shirt and slacks, even on a Saturday. He shook my hand, and I think he had greeted my mother before she left, and then he disappeared too. He smelled like sweet smoke.

Shalini led me to her room down a narrow hallway. Stuffed animals and pillows covering her entire bed and much of the floor, a goddess with golden arms on her wall. At least twenty arms like Shalini’s, each holding a red flower against black velvet, as if a person might take any form, as varied as fish and as brightly colored.

I wish you had that many arms, I told Shalini.

How would I ever put on a shirt?

I laughed and pulled her onto the bed. A soft comforter and all the pillows, much softer than my bed. I had my nose in her hair, smelling her, and I put my hands inside her shirt, feeling her skin. Here are two extra arms, I said. I could feel goose bumps all along my arms and down my back. Her stomach smooth and warm, heart and breath fast. We can be like fish, I said. Let’s get under the covers.

So we threw the pillows and stuffed animals off the bed, got under the comforter, and I pulled it over our heads. We’re a thousand feet down, I said. There’s no light. And no sound.

Shalini giggled.

Shh, I said. We can’t hear anything.

Shalini put her mouth on my ear and breathed, slow weight of the ocean and my spine curling like a shrimp. She held my head in both hands and kept her mouth to my ear and I was arched against her, pressing hard, caught in place, almost paralyzed.

You’re my fish, she whispered. I’ve caught you.

She put her leg over me, and now I was being pressed down, held down against the bottom of the ocean, and this was exactly what I wanted. She pulled off my shirt and lifted her dress until we were skin against skin and I could breathe her in and she climbed onto my back and bit my neck and I moaned and this was my first pleasure, my first memory of pleasure.

We were twelve, and we of course knew nothing, but this was the day of my second birth. Shalini pulled off all my clothes and wore only her bracelets and we moved in darkness guided by feel, without idea, the purest desire, and I wish I could return to that first moment, our own Eden, innocence and desire the same.

B
y the time my mother picked me up the next morning, I was jangly from lack of sleep, buzzing inside. My spine alive as a sea horse fin, fluttering.

You look like a zombie, my mother said. A happy zombie. What did you do?

We swam, I said. Floated.

I didn’t know they had a pool. It must be inside and heated? But their house is small.

Yes, I lied.

The drive was very strange, being in a car, seeing the world outside pass by. All of it had changed. Bright and clear and small, even though there was no sun. The air without distance, the Space Needle as close as any house beside us. The way a fish can hang in stillness if the tank water is clear and calm enough. Suspended, held by nothing at all. Time no longer linked to object, the world muffled and without echo, without pressure, without movement.

I went to bed as soon as we arrived, slept through the afternoon until my mother woke me for dinner.

I don’t know about sleepovers, my mother said. You do need to sleep. They’re not called wakeovers. Shalini’s parents did nothing to make you sleep?

I felt so heavy I couldn’t answer. Lying in some deep-sea trench, all the weight above, unable to keep my eyes open.

I hope you can sleep tonight. We have to get you up and moving for a few hours at least.

My mother pulled me out of bed, made me walk and drink and eat and talk, all of which I observed from far away. All I could think of was Shalini. And then I remembered the old man.

Someone wants to meet you tomorrow, I said. At the aquarium. An old man.

An old man? Someone who works there?

No.

Well who then?

I was still submerged. I regretted trying to talk about this with her. Just someone.

Do you know him?

Yes.

How?

We talk about the fish. He’s kind of like the three-spot frogfish. His hair and his old hands.

How long has this been going on?

I don’t know.

You’ve been talking with some old man and you didn’t tell me?

I closed my eyes and drifted back down, the pull irresistible.

Caitlin. My mother grabbed my chin and made me look up at her. I was sitting at the table and she was standing. What is his name?

I don’t know.

Has he made any plans with you?

What?

Has he offered to take you anywhere?

I couldn’t think. No, I said, and then I remembered. Just the Sea of Cortez, in Mexico, to see manta rays. They do backflips.

Caitlin! my mother yelled. That voice jolted me awake. Fear in both of us. You are not leaving school tomorrow, she said. You are going to stay right there. And I’ll come as soon as I can, then we’ll drive to the aquarium, and we’ll arrive with the police.

No, I said. He’s my friend.

Has he touched you?

What?

Has he touched you?

No. I mean I just sat with him and he hugged me. He was helping me.

Has he ever touched your chest?

No. I mean yeah, but just because I was panicking and my heart was going fast.

Caitlin! My mother slapped me, hard. How can you be so fucking stupid?

I was crying and running for my room, but my mother was pulling me back, grabbing at me. Sweet pea, she was saying. I’m sorry. Caitlin, I’m so sorry.

She tackled me in the hallway. She was crying. Caitlin, Caitlin, my baby. I’m sorry. But you can’t do this to me.

I hadn’t done anything. And I kept twisting, trying to get away from her, but she had clamped down tight and wasn’t letting go.

Baby, she said. Did he say he loved you?

Yes.

My mother howled, some deep animal pain. Her entire body shaking as she cried. Her arm tight across my neck and her wet cheek against mine. I was so frightened. I didn’t know what had happened.

I have to call the police, she said. I have to call right now, so they can be ready tomorrow.

Please don’t, I said. But my mother left me on the floor and went to the kitchen to call. I went to my bed and hid under the comforter and felt so sorry for the old man. He was kind. He was only good. And tomorrow he’d be sitting there on the bench or looking at some fish in a tank and the police would come in and grab him and take him away and I’d never see him again. And there was no way to warn him.

I could hear my mother on the phone. He touched her. She’s only twelve. He had plans to take her away to Mexico. He told her he loved her.

I
slept that night only because I was exhausted, and I kept waking from dreams of panic, being chased, and that feeling remained in the day, the closest I’ve ever felt to doom. My hour-and-a-half wait at school in the fluorescent hallways was unbearable. Shalini arrived only a few minutes before class, and she was smiling but then saw my face.

What’s wrong? she asked.

The police are coming. There’s an old man I’ve been talking to, in the aquarium. He’s my friend.

Shalini didn’t understand, and what I saw then was something new. The police taking me away from my mother, because she had left me alone with an old man, because she wasn’t there. No parent or guardian.

I couldn’t breathe. My heart yanking.

Caitlin! she said, and I woke up in the nurse’s office, on a thin bed with my feet up on pillows. No Shalini. Only a nurse.

Where’s my mother?

Shh, the nurse said. She was a big woman. You need to rest. You’re okay. We’ve called your mother and she can’t leave work right now. She’ll be here this afternoon by two thirty.

The room cold and empty, sterile, a large window of gray, day without light. No clouds visible but only a deadening, no air, all come close.

The nurse left me, and I lay still for a very long time, cocooned, staring out that window into nothing. I wanted Shalini.

Then another woman came in. Hi Caitlin, she said. I’m Evelyn. I’m here just to say hello, to find out how you’re feeling. You can talk with me.

She was watching my eyes, my mouth. She sat in a rolling office chair and scooted closer. How are you feeling?

I don’t know.

Are you tired?

Yes.

Are you sad?

Yes.

What are you sad about?

Evelyn was staring at me as if I were in a tank, some new species first swimming in the open to be observed. My arms become fins again, but not of lace or leaves. They felt heavy as rock, fins made of stone, unable to grab at the water. Stuck on the ocean floor, held down as eyes peered in, magnified.

Caitlin, you can talk to me. Are you worried about something?

She would take me away from my mother. I knew that. I knew she had the power to twist the world and change everything. I had to tell her nothing. I’m okay, I said.

You don’t seem okay.

I just didn’t feel like eating breakfast. I’m dizzy. I need some food.

Okay. Evelyn didn’t believe me, I could tell. Your cheek seems a little bit puffy, she said. Did your mother hit you?

The police came in next. They weren’t waiting for my mother. A man and a woman, then the man left. This woman wore a pistol and baton, a padded jacket. As if the old man or my mother were dangerous and might attack.

You are Caitlin Thompson?

I nodded.

Birthdate September 24, 1982?

Yes.

Mother Sheri Thompson, birthdate July 7, 1961?

Yes.

Please give a description of the man you’ve met at the Seattle Aquarium. The policewoman wasn’t even looking at me. Focused on her notepad. She had a ponytail and was younger than my mother. She smelled like shoe polish and leather.

He’s my friend.

What does he look like?

Like the three-spot frogfish.

Please describe how he looks.

He’s not guarding eggs, but he has the same splotchy skin.

The woman lowered her pad and looked at me finally. Caitlin, she said. You have to help me here. I’m trying to protect you. Has this man touched you?

It was only hugs. Just being nice to me.

How often has he done this?

I don’t know.

How often?

Maybe a couple times. He’s my friend.

Has he touched your chest?

Just because I was afraid. I was panicking.

What were you panicking about?

I can’t say.

You can’t say?

No.

Caitlin, this man is in big trouble, and you are in big trouble. You need to tell me everything. I can stay here all day, and all tomorrow, and all of the next day and every day until you tell me everything. You cannot make me go away. Do you understand?

I hate you.

That’s okay. You can hate me. But you’re going to tell me everything. What were you panicking about?

I closed my eyes and tried to sink down into the deepest water, into darkness. My heart pumping fast, red flashes in my eyelids, but I would sink where she could not reach me, where no one could reach me.

Caitlin, she was saying again, but muffled and weak and far away, and she would not touch me. I knew that. They all cared so much about touching, they wouldn’t dare. So I could close my eyes and sink away and there was nothing they could do. They’d never find out about Inspector Bigby or no parent or guardian or what the old man looked like or what had happened between us. If I could fall down far enough, I would be safe.

I
t was an eternity before my mother arrived. She was out of breath, had been running from the car. She still had her work clothes on, overalls and boots.

She saw the police, the counselor, the nurse. What are you all doing here?

We’ve been talking with your daughter, Evelyn said. We’re concerned about what’s happening at the aquarium and also at home.

I didn’t tell them anything, I said.

What? My mother looked confused.

What is there to tell? Evelyn asked.

The police were moving in closer.

What are you talking about? my mother asked.

Have you struck your daughter?