The Sea Taketh (Alex Singer) (4 page)

             
“Thanks, Jackson,” I force myself to say before adding, “The flowers are beautiful.”

             
He flashes his big teeth and runs his hands through his dark hair. “Anything for you, Alex,” he says.

             
The red sports car peels out before it drives down the street.

Hypothesis #2 has been upgraded to Theory #1 – All boys are insane, even the grownup kind.

Observations – Jackson Powers asked me out. A total stranger wanted me to model. Jackson Powers gave me
flowers
.

             
“Girl, he’s the hunter and you’re his prey,” Jen shakes her head as we put Jackson’s flowers in one of my grandmother’s old vases.

             
“It seems all the boys have gone crazy! What’s the deal? I’m still the shy and awkward queen of the nerd herd.”

             
“Jackson doesn’t think so.”

             
“It doesn’t matter what Jackson thinks, he’s not my type.”

             
“And what is your type?” She raises an eyebrow.

             
“Definitely not someone intelligent, handsome, and rich,” I tease. “I remember when he used to eat paste in first grade and flipped everyone’s bras in middle school.”

             
“I don’t think he’d mind flipping your bra…” Jen doesn’t finish; she’s too busy running to avoid being walloped by my shopping bag.

2

Danes

The last few days of freedom pass quickly. I go and talk to Fred about the lifeguarding job at the Rec. Center, prepare my things for school, hang-out with Jen, and wait for Gramps.

The night he is to return home, I make his favorite dinner of crab cakes. I wait and wait for him. When my patience dissolves, I wrap the plate of crab cakes with plastic wrap and put them in the fridge. Instead of going to sleep, I sit on my bed, watching the ocean through my window.

“I knew you would be waiting up for me,” Gramps says from the doorway.

I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly. I have missed him immensely. The ce
lebration is this intense every time he returns from sea.

Looking at the clock, I see it is three in the morning.

“Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.” He kisses my head and tucks my blanket around me.  He kisses my head, again. “Good night.”

Fact #5 – Gramps is the best grandfather in the world.

Proof – He has never yelled at me…ever. When I was ten, he curled my hair in ringlets for picture day, burning his fingers with the curling iron no less than a dozen times, but he didn’t complain. He never had a problem playing dolls with me. He brings me breakfast in bed when I’m sick. Last, but not least, he cleans the bathroom. 

*     *     *

Next morning, I skip to the kitchen. Gramps is drinking his morning coffee.

             
“How was the catch?” I ask with a hug.

             
“Not good, it must’ve been the storm. I let Joe have it.  He has a family to provide for, and we have my social security.”

             
I nod, knowing he is right. Joe has a wife and three kids to support.

“Let’s see your hand,” Gramps orders.

              I hold it up. All that remains of the cut is a red scar.

             
“Good, I’ve been worried about you.” He sips his coffee. “What else has happened while I’ve been away?”

             
“I accepted a job to lifeguard at the Rec. Center,” I avoid his eyes. “It sounds like we’ll need the money.”

             
“Alexandra, we’ve talked about this,” he says. His tone is unhappy. “I don’t want you working.”

             
“It’s only twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Fred promised that I’ll be home before eight.”

             
“I still don’t want you working.”

             
“Gramps, lots of teens have jobs.”

             
“You’re not like other teens,” he replies. “Your health is more delicate. Besides, I would rather you focus on your schooling. You have enough going on that you don’t need a job.”

             
It’s always the same. I seem to get every cold and illness that goes around the Village. I’ve even had the chicken pox…twice. It is so unbelievably frustrating! Gramps needs my help, and I’m letting him down. “I work every shift with Jen, and it’s less than ten hours a week,” I negotiate.

             
“No,” he shakes his head. “I’ll call Fred and let him know that you’re willing, but I don’t want you working.”

             
“But we need new windows, and they’re going to cost a bunch. If I work, I can pay for them.”

             
“Alex, the windows will just have to make do. You let me worry about them.”

             
A knock on the door interrupts our conversation.

“Go get dressed,” he kisses my head as he stands. “I’ll get the door.”

              I quickly go down the hallway, frustrated about not working, and wondering who would visit us on a Sunday morning. Joe is home resting, and Jen is at church with her family. I keep my door slightly ajar and listen as Gramps opens the front door.

             
“Tom, I heard you came in during the night,” Dr. Michael Powers’s voice surprises me. He is the last person I expected.

             
“Hello, Mike. What can I do for you this morning?” asks Gramps.

             
“May we come in?”

             
Gramps must have nodded his head because footsteps walk into the living room.

             
“You remember my son, Jackson?” says the doctor.

             
“Yes, can I offer you anything?” Gramps asks.

             
“No, I’ll get straight to the point. We’re very fond of Alex, and we’re concerned about her wellbeing.”

             
“A lot of people are fond of Alex, but they’re not knocking on my door on a Sunday morning.”

             
“Of course, of course,” agrees Dr. Powers. “It’s just this business with her cut hand. We were told that Marjory stitched it up, and we know that although she can be strangely charming, she is…let’s just say eccentric. Then, just this morning we heard that Alexandra is going to be working at the Rec. Center. She is too fragile to be working, even part time.”

             
“Her hand has healed completely, but I already told her that she can’t accept the job,” Gramps says.

             
“Good, but she shouldn’t have been left here to fend for herself with a hurt hand!” snaps Jackson.

             
“I’m a fisherman, I fish for a living, but the Marshes keep an eye on her while I’m away. Jen stays with her.”

             
“It’s not good enough.  Alex deserves better!”Jackson yells.

Hypothesis # 4 – Jackson Powers is a meddling
jerk!

             
I can’t listen to another word. Gramps doesn’t deserve to be talked to like that. I storm into the living room.

             
“Jackson Powers, you need to mind your own business!” I glare at him.

             
He jumps to his feet and swallows noisily as he looks at me. Dr. Powers also stands.

             
“We don’t mean to upset you, Alexandra,” he says. “We’re simply concerned for your health.”

             
I lift my healed hand. “I’m fine…”

             
“Alex, please go get dressed.” Gramps stands protectively in front of me.

             
I’ve forgotten that I’m still in my nightgown but not the flannel one. It is my summer nightgown which hangs loosely off my shoulders.
No wonder Jackson is staring at me!
I dash to my bedroom without saying another word. Once safely inside, I retake my place at the door.

             
“Tom, we understand that you have many pressures being the sole guardian of Alex, and we don’t want to add to your burden,” says Dr. Powers.

             
“Alex isn’t a burden, but a blessing,” Gramps retorts.

             
“Of course,” he replies, sincerely. “Our goal is the same as yours. We simply want you to know that Alex is welcome to stay with us whenever your work calls you away. We have help that would wait on her hand and foot, giving her what someone in her condition needs.”

             
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” I hear Gramps open the front door for the Powers. “Now, if you don’t mind, I want to make blueberry pancakes for Alex before she gets out of the shower.”

             
After my shower, hot blueberry pancakes are waiting for me when I return to the kitchen.

             
“He’s smitten with you,” Gramps holds up the dry, shriveled flowers from Jackson I had thrown out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

             
“Because he’s delusional,” I say. “We haven’t ever had a real conversation, and he thinks that he somehow owns me.”

             
“I knew this was coming. I just hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. I know it seems like it’s happened over night, but it happened the same way for your mother and grandmother. Alex, you’re much too pretty for your own good. Stay away from Jackson.”

             
“Three months ago I was just a plain Jane and now it seems every boy’s gone crazy! I’m trying to stay away from all of them!”

             
“You were always a lovely child. The difference is now you’re a woman.” He pats my hand. “When I get the chance, I’m going to talk to Peggy about some robes for you to wear over your pajamas and swim suit between races. I don’t want you to feel like you’re hiding, but hopefully out of sight, out of mind.”

*     *     *

Next morning, I nervously look in the mirror. Wearing a Gramps approved outfit, I pull my hair into a ponytail and put on my glasses to hide my green eyes.

Hypothesis #1 has been upgraded to Theory #2 - Puberty is unfair.

Observations – My breasts are always growing. I’m receiving attention from the wrong places. I have to wear ugly clothes to school to reduce unwanted attention from meddling boys.

A horn honks outside the house.

              “Jen’s here!” Gramps calls.

             
I go to the living room. He hands me my backpack. “I’ll see you after school,” he says.

             
We hug goodbye, and I jump into the passenger seat of Jen’s family’s old van, Merlin the Magical. They call it that because it has been magically running for years. It’s so old all that’s holding it together are rust and dirt.

             
After dropping off a couple of Jen’s younger brothers at the middle school, we pull into the high school’s parking lot. I sigh when I see Jackson’s car. I had hoped that the last twenty-four hours had gifted him with mono.

             
“Daddy must have bought Vanessa a new toy,” Jen whistles as she parks next to a light green, antique sports car with some foreign name.

             
“Let’s not talk about them, I’d prefer to have a non-Powers day,” I say.

             
“Good luck on that one.” Jen points to Jackson crossing the parking lot.

             
“Alex, can I carry your backpack for you?” he asks. I shield my body with it, remembering that he saw me in my nightgown.

             
“I’m fine. I’ve got to go find my locker,” I grab Jen’s arm and we disappear into the school.

             
Nothing ever seems to change in Seaside. We’ve gone to school with the same group of kids since we were potty-training, the teachers taught our parents, and we know the name of every person in the school, including the names of the incoming freshmen. Most people would find this monotony tedious, but I take comfort in the known. Jen and I greet everyone we pass.

             
“I wish we had more classes together.” Jen looks over her schedule. “I should have studied more last year.”

             
“Yes, you should have,” I agree. Jen would rather play a game of soccer than do homework. I unlock my locker and put my extra notebooks in it. The smell of dirty gym shoes wafts from Justin Fisher’s locker next door. “I have Calculus. What do you have first period?”

             
“Algebra, and then English,” she answers. “We won’t meet up until third period for gym”

             
“This day already stinks,” I shut my smelly locker as the bell rings. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

             
Mrs. Smith’s calculus is a small class comprised of pubescent nerds, which is completely fine with me. Two of my friends, Kyle and Dan, take seats on either side of me. We’ve been in the same classes since preschool and have always studied together. Kyle and Dan are your stereotypical nerds but some of my oldest friends. Dan is bone thin, gangly, and wears glasses. Kyle also wears glasses but is slightly overweight from his time in front of his computer and eating pizza in his dad’s pizzeria.

             
“How is your hand?” Dan asks me. “Marjory told my mom that you cut it when she brought us some apples.”

             
“I’m more embarrassed than anything,” I answer. “How’s your dad’s job search going?”

             
“He’s looked all over the county, but no one’s hiring mechanics.”

             
“I’m sure something will open up,” I say in effort to comfort him.

AP History is exactly the same class, just a different classroom and teacher. Thick books and large homework assignments are also passed out in this class. By the time I get to gym, I’m grateful for a change of pace.

              “Have you met the foreign exchange students?” Jen asks excitedly as we meet in the locker room to change into our uniforms.