The Sea Taketh (Alex Singer) (3 page)

             
“Marjory stitched it up,” I say as the opening credits begin to roll.

             
Jen just nods as she walks into the living room with our bowls of ice cream. With six younger brothers, Jen’s family is often going to Marjory with minor injuries to save money.

             
“It’s not fair,” she says as she sits on our ancient couch and hands me a bowl.

             
“What’s that?” I ask, licking ice cream off my spoon.

             
“Even cut up, with your hair a fright, and in a granny nightgown, you’re drop-dead gorgeous. No wonder Jackson’s drooling over you.”

             
“We both know that I look as bad as I feel. No offense, but you’re not exactly an authority on beauty.” I gesture to her muddy, tube socks. “Besides, Jackson’s idea of the perfect date is a mirror.”

             
“True, but there are several perfectly nice guys that would love to date you,” she says.

             
“Like who?”I roll my eyes.

             
“Like all the boys.” She fills her mouth with ice cream, avoiding my direct question.

             
“That’s because all they see are the girls.” I point to my chest.

             
“No, they were infatuated with you before your drastic growth spurt. And at least you have boobs.” She pointed to herself. “I have to stuff my training bra with toilet paper.”

             
“I’d trade you any day. Mine won’t stop growing. I outgrew the bra I just bought. I have to buy a new one tomorrow.”

             
“You’re upgrading and I’m downgrading.” She puts her feet on the rickety coffee table. “I’ll go with you. Peggy said that she got in some new sports equipment, and I want first choice of the soccer cleats.”

             
“Alex, I’m home,” Gramps calls as he walks in the door.

             
“We’re in here!” Jen calls back. “Do you want some ice cream?”

             
“Yeah, I stopped and got a pizza from Tony.” He pulls a pizza box from under his raincoat. “What are we watching?”

             
“You’ll love it.” Jen laughs. “It has Clint Eastwood in it.”

             
“Sounds great!”  He smiles. “I’ll go get some plates.”

*     *     *

Jen ends up staying the night. She sleeps on the floor next to my bed and is gone before I wake to teach her water aerobics class at the Rec. Center.

That morning, I stagger to the kitchen.

              “Let’s take a look at that hand,” Gramps looks up from his coffee.

I put out the stiff hand, and he carefully removes the gauze. He cleans and covers the wound with the ointment from Marjory. Then Gramps wraps it again.

              “I’d really like a shower,” I say, holding my hand.

             
Gramps picks up an empty bread bag and shakes out the crumbs. He puts it over my hand, and duct tapes it around my wrist. “Feel free,” he says with smirk.

             
“You’re pretty good with duct tape,” I tease, knowing it is his tool of choice.

             
“Alex, Joe and I are going out today,” he abruptly says. “Don’t plan on us returning until Saturday. There’s plenty of food in the fridge and Jen’s going to stay to keep you company. Take care of that hand, and if you go near the beach, I’ll know.”

             
My shower is a blur. I thought that my fear of the sea would subside as I got older, but it seems to be getting worse. When Gramps is gone, I worry for him every second. The very air is thicker without him.

Refer to Fact #1 – Being a fisherman is dangerous.

              After draining the water heater of its hot water, I emerge from the shower. I use a pair of scissors to cut the bag off my hand before I put on a t-shirt and jeans. I find my clothes from the previous day to recover my twenty dollars before putting them in the laundry. When I shake out the sand, a seashell falls from my pocket.

             
“Oh,” I say to myself. “I forgot about you.”

             
I start the washer and head to my room. I put the twenty in my pocket and pick up my magnifying glass. I can’t pass up an opportunity to do a little science experiment. The shell is unassuming. It isn’t anything that tourists would be interested in buying. I inspect its tiny ridges, finding that it is some sort of mollusk. I try to open it, but it’s impossible, especially with my hurt hand. Pulling my shell reference book off my bookshelf, I check the lists of shells. It isn’t there. Every once in a while I find something unusual. Without a second thought, I add the shell to a small bowl full of foreign shells in my windowsill before heading out the door.

             
Jen’s waiting for me outside the second hand store. “You’re always late,” she teases when she sees me.

             
“How was practice and water aerobics?” I ask as we enter the shop. A bell rings behind us.

             
“Practice was a joke without you, but water aerobics with the grannies is best hour of the day,” she answers, laughing. “Have you given more thought about taking the lifeguard job? Fred’s had a lot of applicants but would love to hire you.”

             
“When does he want to know?”

             
“Tomorrow, but he won’t put you on the rotation until your hand is healed.”

             
“Tell him that I’ll do it,” I answer. We really need the storm windows and a steady income.

             
Jen beams. “It’ll be great having you at the pool!”

             
A thin woman with styled gray hair walks out from the back room. As always, Peggy is finely dressed in clothing reminiscent of the nineteen fifties. Today she is wearing a lovely blue sundress. She smiles when she sees us.

“Hello, girls,” she says. “I thought you had all your school shopping done?”

              “Hey, Peggy,” Jen responds. “I came to take a look at your new cleats, and Alex needs a bra.”

             
“You know where I keep the equipment,” she says before turning to me. “Alex, let’s see what I can do for you.”

             
Because I buy all my clothes from Peggy it doesn’t take long before she has a pile of new, surplus bras in my size. I try on bra after bra, and Peggy patiently hooks the straps to keep me from hurting my hand. Ultimately, I choose a plain bra for everyday and a sports bra for gym

             
“How much for these two?” I ask.

             
“Ten dollars if you’ll take this one, too,” she says as she put a lovely, lace bra on the two bras I chose.

             
“Peggy, why would I need a bra like that?” I ask, looking at the see-thru bra.

             
“Everyone should feel beautiful under their clothes.” She winks at me. “You should see the bra I’m wearing, and I’m just an old lady.”

             
Maybe she has a point? I pass her my twenty.

             
With our purchases in hand, Jen and I cross the street to the ice cream parlor. We order our regulars and take our usual seat in the front window so we could people-watch.

             
“Tom said that he’d be gone until Sunday.” Jen licks her chocolate ice cream cone.

             
I nod as I take a bite of my sugar cone. I use a napkin to wipe melted, vanilla ice cream off my chin. “What’s the plan?”I ask. The Marshes are my surrogate family while Gramps fishes.

             
“Mom insists that we eat dinner at my house, but then we’re free to run to the quiet of yours,” she answers. Suddenly, she points out the window and laughs at a middle-aged tourist. He has three cameras hanging around his neck, his clothes and brown hair are covered in sand and water, and he is missing a shoe which is odd enough, but his bright clothing and crazy bleached hair indicate that he’s not from Seaside.

             
“Poor guy, he probably fell in the water,” I say.

             
The man stops in front of the ice cream parlor to shake the sand out of his hair. His eyes go to Jen and me in the window. His brow furrows, and he blinks several times.

             
“He got sand in his eyes,” Jen says sympathetically.

             
The man surprises us when he walks into the shop and directly to our table.

             
“Excuse me, miss,” he says to me. “Have you ever thought about modeling?”

             
I laugh, wondering what kind of joke this is. Maybe the sand scratched his corneas and he can’t see properly. “Never,” I say truthfully.

             
He holds out a hand. “My name’s Colin Wright. I’m a photographer, and I would love to shoot you.”

             
“Excuse me?” I look at his hand with suspicion.

             
“With my camera,” he smiles as he points the cameras on his chest. “I’m doing a photo shoot in a week, and I think you would be a great addition.”

             
“I’m really not interested,” I reply, still thinking it’s a joke. Who in their right mind want to pay for photos of me?

             
He smiles and pulls a wet business card out of his pocket. He puts it on the table. “If you change your mind, call me.”

             
He walks to the ice cream counter, taking photos of everything on the way, including the garbage can. Jen giggles as we watch him photographing his bare foot and then an old mop. After several minutes he seems to come to his senses. He turns his attention to the clerk and asks, “May I use your phone to call AAA? I lost my keys and cell phone in the ocean.”

             
“It’s in the office out back,” she directs him to a phone.

             
As soon as he’s gone, Jen picks up the card. “Modeling, huh?” she says.

             
“He’s probably some pervert.” I grab the card to throw it away.

             
“You should check out his website before you chuck it.” She stops me. “If nothing else, we’ll have a good laugh.”

             
I relent and put the business card in my pocket.

             
We lick ice cream cones and talk about the upcoming year on the walk home. We make the turn to my block, and I swear.

             
“Really ladylike,” Jen scolds me.

             
I gesture to a sports car parked outside my house.

             
“And just when I thought it was going to be a great day,” she says before yelling down the street, “Jackson, what do you want?”

             
He smiles when he sees us. He pulls a bouquet of roses from behind his back. “I came to see how Alex is feeling?” he says.

             
“You shouldn’t have come all this way, I’m fine,” I reply, walking up the sidewalk to my house. These interactions are becoming more than ridiculous.

             
He takes my wounded hand and peeks under the gauze. “You should have gone to my dad. When I heard that you were stitched up by that … witch, I was concerned. Dad said that if you come over to the clinic, he’ll take a look at your hand.”

             
“I said, I’m fine,” I pull my hand away from him and change the subject. “How did your relays go this morning?"

             
“Great, I cut another second off my time,” he says, not being able to pass up an opportunity to talk about himself. “Dad’s trying to arrange for recruiters to come watch one of my meets.”

             
“That’s great,” Jen says with a hint of sarcasm. “We are just here to drop off Alex’s things, and then we’re off to my house.  Alex is eating with us.”

             
“I’ll give you a ride.  Alex shouldn’t be walking all over the county. She could exhaust herself,” he quickly says.

             
“No worries, one of my parents will come pick us up,” Jen says.

             
Jackson scowls at her before smiling at me. “I’ll come get you Saturday for the party.  I would feel terrible if you were to walk all the way to our estate.”

             
“That’s very nice of you, but I’ll be resting for school on Monday,” I say, lifting my hurt hand. “Gramps left strict instructions.”

             
“Of course, I completely understand” he says, putting the flowers in my unwounded hand. “At least Tom limited your activities, although you will be missed. If you need
anything
, please call.”