Root (4 page)

“
Do you know when she might be
back?”

“
Not a clue.”

“
Okay. I guess uh … can you tell her
I called?”

“
What was your name again?
Jimmy?”

“
James.”

And that was that. He hung up.

I stood there a minute, watching some people
line up to board a bus bound for Jacksonville. I felt punctured;
the invisible force that had buoyed and propelled me on my walk
over had frittered away. I considered hanging around another hour
and calling back, but had lost the will.

Maybe if I went home, her dad would pass the
message and she would call me. Cousins or not, I was beyond any
potential embarrassment, I just wanted to hear her voice. I
realized I hadn’t given her dad my home number, but she knew my
name. It had been on placards at the church, and on the copies of
my dad’s obituary that had been left on every pew.

I started walking home, every step landing
like my soles were made of lead. If nothing else, I still had the
weekend to look forward to. That would be enough to keep the roots
at bay.

Chapter 4:
Beaches

By the end of the week, mom had recovered some
of her equilibrium, to Uncle Ed’s great relief. At least she had
stopped locking herself in the bathroom, and when the neighbors
came by with a casserole, she actually went to the door and chatted
with them.

She resumed her chores, picking up the living
areas, scrubbing the bathrooms, though they really didn’t need much
attention. Aunt Helen had been a dervish about keeping our place
tidy.

Based on the CVS pharmacy bags that had shown
up in the kitchen trash, I had a feeling that some of her rally
might have been chemically induced. Not that I objected. Sometimes
that’s what it took to keep on keeping on.

On Friday morning, I went into the garage to
round up some beach things. Its windows caught the full brunt of
the morning sun so it was like an oven in there.

Seeing dad’s pickup jarred me. I realized I
wouldn’t be around to wash it tomorrow.

It had been years since we had gone to the
shore as a family. When I was little, we used to go every weekend.
Some of the best beaches in the county were only twenty minutes
away from our house.

There was a stack of plastic Tupperware bins
beside the work bench, one of which contained about every toy I had
ever brought to a beach. I can’t believe mom hung onto all my
kiddie stuff. But it was all there, along with some ancient picnic
gear.

I pulled out an old Frisbee in its original
packaging that I had gotten as a birthday gift a few years back. It
had never been thrown because I never had anyone to throw it
to.

Going to the beach had sure been a lot simpler
in those bucket and shovel days. No tricky social dynamics to worry
about, just me and my parents and a sandbox that went on forever;
the ocean my mischievous playmate, always sneaking up and knocking
down my castles.

I unearthed another bin stuffed with neatly
folded towels, but had trouble finding one that wouldn’t embarrass
me. Most had these flowery prints or cutesy cartoon characters. I
finally dug one out from the bottom with an ugly geometric pattern
that was the least likely to draw ridicule.

Mom came out to see what I was up to. She hung
back and watched me while I refolded all the towels I had crammed
back into the bin. She snatched up a tube of sun block and handed
it to me.

“
Oh, and you should bring that
little cooler. There’s some Dr. Pepper and Mountain Dew in the
pantry. Get it chilled down in the fridge and you can toss in some
ice in the morning.”

She touched her finger to her chin. “I wonder
if I should make some sandwiches. How many people are going to be
at this party?”

“
I don’t know mom, I
didn’t—”

“
I’ll need to go to the store and
get some bread and cold cuts.”

“
No mom. It’s okay. I don’t really
need to bring anything. You can buy stuff there.”

“
I know, but—”

“
Mom. It’s okay. I got
this.”

She smiled and went back to the
house.

I sat down in one of those low beach chairs
and listened to my heart thrum, the blood humming through my veins.
I didn’t ever remember feeling so alive.

***

I had nothing to do the rest of the day but
fret. I played some Mario Kart on Jay and Josh’s PlayStation. I
washed dishes, just to keep occupied. I even started a batch of
laundry. Mom just looked at me and shook her head.

When Uncle Ed took us to Dairy Queen for
lunch, I spotted a pay phone at the Seven/Eleven next door. I
thought about sneaking over to call Jenny again, but she was
probably in class. Maybe I could suck up the courage to call her
from home, after school got out.

Someone my age should never have been having
these kinds of communications problems. It was pathetic. This was
2012 for Christ’s sake. Normal kids messaged each other with cell
phones and Facebook and Twitter without thinking twice.

Thanks to my Luddite, penny-pinching parents,
I was stuck in sixties mode. We had no internet at home, just a
land line and basic cable. We lived practically off the grid. If I
only knew she was watching, I would have sent Jenny smoke signals,
just to let her know I was still alive.

Back home, I played basketball with Ed and the
twins. I was a pretty good post player but had a horrible outside
shot. Uncle Ed made up for my offensive deficiencies, so we smoked
the twins. Didn’t hurt that they were a good foot and a half
shorter than us.

That game was good for my head. That little
bit of physical activity helped take my mind off things. I had a
shower, played more Mario Kart and then Mom cooked up a bunch of
ribs and chicken on the grill. By that point, I was again counting
down the hours before beach day. I had half a mind to camp out at
the library overnight.

We settled into the family room after dinner
and watched a DVD with the twins. I didn’t even notice what movie
was playing. I retreated into my head, ignoring anything anyone
said. A bowl of popcorn appeared in my hands and I didn’t even see
who gave it to me.

I was fixated on what I would say and do
tomorrow, to the point of scripting possible conversations in my
head. No doubt, I was over-thinking things.

Uncle Ed and his gang were flying back to
Cleveland the next day, but that had no bearing on my plans. After
the movie, when everyone settled in early for bed, I said my
goodbyes. I expected to be long gone before any of them got
up.

I snuggled up on the couch with the TV on low
and watched the lights in the bedrooms go off one by one. I tried
going to bed early myself, but I was too hyped up. I just stared at
the shadows on the ceiling, my eyes wired open.

I tried emptying my mind, avoiding any
thoughts of Jenny and the beach. But no matter what I did, those
thoughts came drifting back.

Midnight rolled up and I was still wide awake.
I knew I’d be a wreck if I didn’t get at least a couple hours in
before morning so I went to the medicine cabinet and took one of
mom’s Ambien.

I sat up a little bit longer, watched the
late, late shows. When they were done, I was still sitting there,
listening to distant whine of trucks on the interstate. I went to
dad’s liquor cabinet and choked down a swig of whiskey, just a
little. I didn’t want to overdo it.

That did the trick.

***

The next morning, I awoke with the sun on my
face. The twins were on their floor with their backs to me, Mario
Kart theme music tinkling away on the TV. Against all that, my
alarm clock chimed away on the end table.

The digital display read eight
twenty-nine.

I hollered like I had been stabbed. The twins
crashed their cars and cringed away from me. Mom came running into
the room in her rumpled pajamas, hair sticking every which way.
“What happened?”

“
I was supposed to meet up with them
to go to the beach … at eight!”

Her sleepy eyes cleared in an
instant.

“
Think they’re still
waiting?”

“
I doubt it.”

“
Why didn’t they call? Or swing by
to get you?”

“
I don’t know, mom. I don’t
know.”

“
Get in the car. I’ll take you. Ed
and his gang aren’t leaving for the airport till
ten-thirty.”

I flew off the couch and ran up to my room to
change into swim trunks and a clean shooter shirt. Mom already had
her car running in the driveway. I tossed the cooler and towel and
stuff in the back and clambered I beside her.

“
What beach?” he said.

I just blinked at her. I tried to remember if
Jenny had even told me, staring out at the blank white wall of the
hallway. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“
I bet it’s Surfside Park,” she
said, her chin set firm, eyes narrowed. She squealed out of the
drive.

***

Surfside, the most popular and likely spot for
Ft. Pierce high schoolers to hang had already had accumulated had a
good-sized crowd of beach goers by the time we got
there.

“
Should I wait?” said mom. “While
you have a look around?”

“
Nah. That’s okay. I’m sure they’re
here.”

“
I don’t mind waiting.”

“
It’s okay mom. I’m
cool.”

“
Should I come back … say four-ish …
to get you?”

“
No need,” I said. “I’ll catch a
ride back with Jenny.”

She smiled, a bit weakly. “Well, good luck
sweetie.” She turned the car around.

I crossed the lot and cut through the dunes.
Surfside has a good half mile of public beach stuck flanked by
private lots. The bright sand was packed with towels and chairs and
umbrellas.

I wished I had some binoculars. I spotted what
looked like groups of teenagers across the way, but couldn’t tell
who they were from a distance.

I wanted to find them in a manner that didn’t
make me look so desperate. So I trudged through the fluffy sand to
the southern edge of the park and went down to the water. I
strolled along the tide line, glancing up discreetly at every
cluster of young people I passed.

I pictured myself strolling up to Jenny and
her friends nonchalantly when I finally located them.
Straight-faced. Mr. Cool. Jenny would rush over to greet me, all
surprised.

The tide was in. The surf was choppy. Must be
a storm offshore. I splashed along, towel tucked under my arm,
swinging the cooler, discreetly studying every cluster of young
people I passed. Twenty minutes later, I had reached the northern
limits of the park.

They weren’t here. I had screwed up
again.

Not a deal killer though. There were more
beaches in the area, both north and south. North made more sense,
because it was closer to the bridge leading into downtown Ft.
Pierce. So I went back to the road and hiked past a stretch of
fancy houses until I came to another strip of public
beach.

The sun was fierce, but there was a nice
breeze coming off the water. I veered across another lot and
squinted across the dunes at the sparser crowd of people occupying
this nameless strand. No dice, but no need to panic. It was still
early. I took a Mountain Dew out of the cooler and chugged it
down.

I continued north along a sidewalk to the next
stretch of public beach. I wish I had worn something sturdier than
flip flops. I slipped them off and went barefoot when they got too
annoying.

Eventually I reached the inlet that cut
through the barrier island to Ft. Pierce’s harbor. The beach here
angled around a point tipped by a stone jetty. The sand here looked
like snow, but proved just as devoid of any familiar faces. I found
a patch of shade among a row of palms and slumped down.

My head throbbed. My stomach began to clench.
It was time to reassess this while beach thing. For all I knew,
Jenny and her crew had gone south to Jupiter Island or north to
Avalon State Park. Do you know how many miles of beach there are on
the Florida’s Atlantic shore?

Avalon. Come to think of it. Burke had
mentioned Avalon once or twice. But did Burke even go with
them?

Avalon lay across the inlet. I stared at the
channel, and at the beach on the other side of it. I wondered how
hard it would be to swim across. It looked pretty narrow. To walk I
would have to go two miles west over a bridge into the city, one
mile up to the next bridge and two miles back to this place I could
almost hit a golf ball across.

What I really wanted to do was to go home and
curl up in my bed. I sat there under those palms, the image of
Jenny at the funeral burning in my retinas. I glanced at my watch.
It was not even noon yet. I still had time to find her.

I stood and gazed across the inlet and at a
knot of young people horsing around on the beach across the way. I
could hear traces of their voices carry across the water. There was
a grill smoking beside a picnic table. Was that Jenny’s
group?