Breathing Water (12 page)
I brought the hummus sandwiches to Yari and Colette, who had spread a blanket out in the front yard. They had a deck of cards and a bottle of wine. My hands smelled of lemon and cucumbers. I joined them and saw that Yari was letting Colette cheat. I concentrated on chewing so that I wouldn't have to bite my tongue. Someone roared across the lake on a jet ski.
“I hate that,” Colette said. “Remember when it used to be quiet around here?”
“I remember when the only boats out there were rowboats and canoes.” I smiled.
“Effie and I could swim all the way out to the island without seeing another soul,” she said to Yari and wiped a bit of hummus from the corner of his mouth.
“Do you want to go swimming today?” Yari asked.
“I'd love to, but I didn't bring my suit,” Colette said.
“You can use one of mine,” I said.
“Do you want to, Effie?”
“Why not?”
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I gave Colette my bikini, and I put on an old blue one-piece. I changed in the loft, and she changed in the bathroom. I don't think we have ever seen each other naked. I wrapped a towel around myself and found her and Yari kissing in the kitchen. His hand was across the small expanse of her butt, his fingers prying into the elastic of the bikini bottoms.
“Ready?” I said.
“Let's go!” Yari said, startled.
Yari dove from the edge of Gussy's dock. For a dancer, he lacked grace in the water. He popped up about thirty feet from the dock and shook his head like a dog. “Come in, you chicken girls!” he hollered. I loved his terrible syntax.
I sat down on the edge of the dock and started to ease myself into the water. Colette ruffled my hair and dove perfectly, gracefully, into the water. Yari screamed when she reached him.
“I'm naked!” he said.
She surfaced holding Yari's trunks in her hands.
I lowered my body into the cold lake and dipped my head backward until my hair was thick and heavy with water.
“Come out here!” Yari yelled.
I leaned forward and swam slowly toward them.
“Let's go to the island, Effie,” Colette said. She had given Yari back his trunks.
“Nah,” I said and rolled over onto my back.
“Come on,” she pleaded. I could feel her fingers pulling at my suit.
“Stop it, Colette,” I said. But her fingers kept tugging.
“I'll race you both,” she said and released me.
I didn't want to do this, but I followed her. I swam without taking a breath until I had caught up with her. I looked at her arms moving through the water like air or sky, and I started to kick harder. I moved my arms, my legs, and my head in a strange and steady rhythm. I was aware that she was swimming next to me. I could hear the sound of her hands slicing through the water. My lungs felt as though they would burst. By the time I saw the island nearing, it felt like I was stuck in quicksand. I watched Colette as she continued to move forward. I watched her pulling away from me. I watched her winning.
I could barely stand when I felt the mucky bottom of the lake beneath me. My legs were shaking, and my arms felt numb and heavy.
“That wasn't so hard, was it?” She laughed and twisted her hair, the water dripping on the sand beneath her. She coughed a little then, to remind me that she had done this even with her weak lungs, and said, “I wonder where Yari is.”
I sat down on the sand and tried not to let her see that I was dying.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I'm fine.”
“Just out of breath, huh?”
“I said, I'm fine.” I looked at her, but she was looking out at the lake toward Yari, who had found the sand bar. He was running across the sand, and it looked like he was running on top of the water. Like a water spider or a skipping stone.
Colette jumped back into the water and swam to him. She stood up on the sand bar and he picked her up. Their limbs were strong and similar. They fit each other perfectly. I was not out of breath anymore, but my heart was still pounding. I crawled back into the water and lay on my back. I didn't open my eyes until Colette's voice skipped across the water, calling me home.
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At midnight, Yari went upstairs to the loft, which I had relinquished for the night. Colette kissed him and patted his behind. “I'll be up in a bit.”
I was doing the dishes, scraping spinach and ricotta cheese off each plate, burning my hands in the hot water. Colette was sitting in the breakfast nook sipping hot tea and smoking cigarettes.
“I'm sorry about Max,” she said.
“What's to be sorry about?”
“I mean, you were together for a long time. All through college.”
“We've also been apart for a long time,” I said and struggled with a sharp lasagna noodle that had stuck to the plate.
“I was just trying to be nice,” she said. “Jesus, Effie.”
“Well, don't try so hard.” The noodle came loose and pierced the skin underneath my fingernail. “Shit.”
“What?” she asked and stood up. “A knife?”
“No. It's nothing. I'm fine.”
We sat on the porch with all of the lights off except for the oil lamp on Grampa's desk. We didn't speak for a long time. The loons were quiet tonight. The lake was still. I was growing uncomfortable with this silence. I looked at Colette running her fingers across books of Grampa's that were propped up on one of the windowsills.
“I miss Grampa,” Colette said, turning to look at me. Her eyes were pleading.
“Me too,” I said, happy that we were finally able to agree on something.
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After Colette went to bed I could hear her and Yari making love. She didn't make any noise at all. Not even breathing. There was only the careful steady thud of bone meeting bone. Yari's loud breaths. The sounds of his hands bracing the iron headboard to keep from crushing her.
When they were gone, I felt lonely for a moment. As I gathered my dirty laundry and the soiled sheets, I missed their voices. But by the time I had driven into town and pulled into the parking lot of the Duds-N-Suds, I remembered how quiet and peaceful being alone can be. I watched my clothes tumble around, the sheets like arms intertwined with legs. Panties and bras revealed and then hidden. And the entire world smelled clean.
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“Alice has to go to the doctor, wanna come into town with me?” Maggie asked. She was leaning out of the car, staring up at me on the ladder.
“Like this?” I asked, gesturing to my paint-splattered overalls.
“Quimby ain't no goddamn fashion capital.” She laughed. “Get in.”
I crawled down the ladder, careful not to spill any more paint on myself. I locked up the camp and crawled into the back of Maggie's station wagon. It smelled like a child in her car. Like dried apricots and crayons. Alice was sitting in the front seat playing with a headless Barbie.
“What happened to Barbie's head?” I asked.
Alice didn't look at me.
“The dog ate it and she won't let me buy her another one.”
Alice looked back then and smiled. She was a beautiful child. She didn't look real. Her blond curls were like gossamer. Her cheeks were flushed the color of raspberries, her eyes disturbingly green, like pebbles under water. And she didn't speak.
“What's the doctor's appointment for?” I asked, leaning into the space between the two front seats so that I could hear Maggie better.
“Checkup.”
“I need to get back before supper,” I said. “Gussy's coming over.”
“Your gramma?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Why do you call her that?” Maggie asked, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other stroking Alice's hair.
“What?”
“Gussy.”
“Oh,” I said. “I dunno.”
I'd called Gussy by her first name since I could remember. I used to think that everyone had a Gussy and a Grampa. No one told me otherwise until I called Tess's grandma Gussy.
“Why don't you and Alice come over too?”
“Yeh?” she asked, turning her head to check for sincerity.
“Sure. We can get something in town to make. Gussy's bringing salad.”
When we pulled into the parking lot of the doctor's office Alice started to cry. She didn't make a sound, but her eyes welled up and she shook her head
no.
“I thought we talked about this, Alice,” Maggie said. “Dr. Green is not going to hurt you. It's just a checkup.
no.
“I thought we talked about this, Alice,” Maggie said. “Dr. Green is not going to hurt you. It's just a checkup.
“Rectal thermometer,”
she whispered to me. “Last flu.”
she whispered to me. “Last flu.”
“Oh.” I smiled.
I went to the grocery store while Maggie and Alice were waiting for the doctor. I do love to go grocery shopping. I love the rows and rows of possibilities. The promise of each vegetable, each jar and can and bottle. Two people could buy exactly the same items and wind up with two entirely different meals. When I was in Arizona on my way to Seattle, I ate every meal at a small Mexican restaurant by the train tracks. I got something different every single night. But the basic ingredients were exactly the same: beans, tortillas, and chiles. Red tomato, green avocado, and white, white onions. But while the colors were the same, each entree was completely unique, the difference in the combination.
I pulled a cart out from the rusty stack by the door and decided to only buy things I never buy. It was liberating knowing that I didn't need to buy bagels or bread or eggs. I wanted to buy Chinese noodles and sauerkraut. Relish instead of mustard. Rhubarb and limes. It wasn't practical on my budget, but I wanted to make something that might make Alice smile. When Max and I were together, I didn't do the shopping. Because he cooked, he always went to the grocery store alone and would come home with things I had never heard of. He didn't ask me what I wanted. I would never have suggested tuna casserole with Ritz crackers on top like Gussy would make for me. I would never tell him that I loved maraschino cherry and cream cheese sandwiches. I never asked for dates to pry with sticky fingers from their white cardboard box.
I got to the checkout and realized that I hadn't bought anything that I could make anything out of. I decided to start over again and checked my watch to make sure I would still have time. I considered leaving the cart full of sardines and tomato sauce, frozen squash and potato puffs. But instead I went back through the aisles and put everything away. I left my cart where I found it. As I was leaning into the cold freezer to grab two frozen pizzas, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jumped.
“You forgot your wallet in the cart,” he said. He was so tall, I had to tilt my head back to see his face. It was the man from Hudson's, holding my wallet. I felt my ears get hot.
“Thank you,” I said.
My arm was still in the freezer. I was trying to grab the pizza box without losing his glance, but soon all the boxes were tumbling down, pushing the door open into me. His arm reached past me and stopped the cascade of yellow cardboard. He was close to me. The whites of his eyes were bright against his dark skin. I could see flecks of green in his pupils. I could smell a familiar scent on his skin. Tobacco. Pipe tobacco. It was the man from the cottage. The man whose silhouette I saw through the window. It was that same sweet smell.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” I said and held the cold pizza box to my chest. “Thank you again.”
I started to turn away, but his hand touched my shoulder again. I didn't know if it was the pizza or his fingers that sent the chill through me.
“Your wallet,” he said and handed me the billfold. “It seems we're neighbors, Effie Greer.”
“How do you know my name?” I asked. I imagined that he had found me out. That he knew about my forays into his mailbox and his studio.
“And date of birth and address?” He smiled, gesturing to my wallet. “It's amazing all of the information you can get onto a tiny little piece of paper. And a picture too, even.”
“Oh,” I said, my ears growing red again.
“Have a good day.”
“Thank you?” I said, wanting his name. If he had a name then he would be real.
“Devin Jackson.” He nodded, winking. I had not been winked at in my whole life. Not once.
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Alice loved the frozen pizza. Gussy picked the hard pieces of sausage off hers and set them at the edge of her plate. I felt so light and happy I couldn't seem to fill myself up. I ate four pieces for Maggie and Gussy's one. Alice and I had tomato sauce on our clothes, on our faces.
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