The Blue Pen

by Lisa Rusczyk

CLEO

  I went to the beach, but I must say that the time leading up to it was agonizing. The friendly hand-holding with Nikki that had seemed so innocent and helpful had turned erotic to my imagination. The improv stage gripped some part inside of me and wouldn’t let go. The people at the Beacon stalked my every dream. Dream Weaver’s violin echoed through all my fantasies. The sound of 88 Fingers’ piano playing kept coming to mind during daily tasks, like cleaning. I sometimes smelled cigarette smoke when nobody was home.

  I read voraciously. When I wasn’t reading or cleaning, I would lie on the couch and daydream. I wanted everything. I wanted to be a daisy in a rose garden. I wanted to be part rose from an invisible drink. I wanted to see Nikki again.

  I wanted to find out from Barbie about our mother.

  I didn’t want to take Cecil and Angelica to the beach if I went.

  Cecil thought it was a great idea for me to go off to the shore with Barbie. He didn’t know that it wouldn’t be just the two of us. “How are you going to get there?” he asked. I told him that I could rent a car, as we only had one. He insisted that I take the car, saying that it would be a waste of money to rent one, that he and Angelica could walk to a store if they needed anything.

  Angelica wanted to go in the worst way. She had never been to the beach, or anywhere else for that matter. It hurt a bit to tell her no, but I needed to do this thing, and Saturday finally came. I picked up Barbie at her apartment and off we went.

  Being in a car with Barbie for two hours, just the two of us, felt odd, like we were fighting, although nothing had happened. We spoke very little and my mind kept drifting to our mother. I wanted to ask about her, but felt instinctively that it wasn’t the right time. I could get to it during the trip, perhaps when Barbie had relaxed. The only thing I remember her saying is that she didn’t like being in a car. She flinched a couple of times when cars cut me off, as though an accident actually had happened.

  She directed me to an enormous beach house once we were at the shore. “It’s Nikki’s,” she said. The red-head D.D. greeted us at the door, looking as limber and gorgeous as she had on the improv stage. She hugged Barbie and smiled at me over Barbie’s shoulder, but I didn’t like the look in her eye as she did it. I couldn’t figure out what that expression meant.

  D.D. led us into a living room where Swan, Reed and a man and woman I’d seen behind the beaded curtain in the séance sat on sofas and on the floor. They waved to us. The man stood and introduced himself as Kurt. He said, “We never met properly, Cleo,” and shook my hand.

  The woman, looking to be in her forties, said, “I am Astra, dear,” and nodded at me.

  Nikki came into the room from the kitchen with several beer bottles in his hand. “Cleo! Joanie! Good to see you got here for cocktail hour. I’ll grab a couple more of these.” He handed out the beers to the others.

  I sat on the floor next to Swan, who squeezed my shoulder and told me she was happy to see me. Barbie sat across the room from me. The group resumed a conversation they had been having when we joined.

  Kurt said, “I still think you could see the grass.”

  Astra agreed with him. “Definitely. There is a connection between all living things and undoubtedly the grass could be seen.”

  Reed shook his head. “But how do you know dreams are connected to other people? I think dreams are independent of others. What do you think, Swan?”

  Swan shrugged her shoulders. “I know I have seen some crazy things in my dreams. I guess it is possible that those things exist somewhere, somehow.”

  Reed smiled at her. “Middle-of-the-road answer.”

  Nikki came back and handed Barbie and me beers. I was surprised to see her take a sip, since she told me she didn’t drink.

  Nikki sat on the other side of me on the floor. “What do you two think, Joanie and Cleo?”

  I said I didn’t know the question.

  D.D. sat forward on the couch and eyed me with that same strange expression, like I was a kid playing in her freshly pruned garden. She said, “Nikki asked us what we thought about dreams. He wondered if a person never seen grass in life, could he dream about it?” She had an edge to her voice, like she was from another city, and her grammar was lacking.

  It felt like she was demanding an answer from me, but Barbie saved me from my confusion. She said, “Unlikely.”

  D.D. focused on Barbie. “Why do you think that?”

  Barbie answered, “Dreams come from things we have experienced. I am with Reed on this. I think they are personal and independent of others’ thoughts.”

  I blinked several times and glanced at Nikki. He half-smiled and held out his hands. “Had to talk about something.”

  Astra continued with her thoughts on interconnectedness of all beings, with Kurt as a supporter. I put pieces together in my head. These two had been in the room beyond the beaded curtain having a séance. They must think themselves some sort of psychics, and perhaps that was the type of thinking that could be expected. I listened quietly and sipped my beer, interested in the conversation, but Nikki’s closeness was making me warm. I admit at first it was hard to concentrate because of this, and the topic was so far off from any kind I’d heard before that my little mind was having difficulty with the concepts.

  Nikki didn’t add anything to what they were saying. He sat and listened, like me, and I wondered why he had chosen to sit next to me. Did I think of Cecil and my daughter at home? No, I felt like all those things were the dreams, that home life, the quiet house. Perhaps I could have added a new element to the discussion, but I would never bring that up. Instead I hugged my knees to my chest and my beer was gone rather quickly.

  After some time, we went down to the beach, Nikki and Reed carrying a couple of coolers. It was windy out, but that didn’t stop the group from tossing a Frisbee around. I watched, not able to remember ever having thrown a Frisbee as a child, and surprised at how well Barbie could handle the thing. Kurt and Astra watched, as well, and I figured they felt too old to be taking part in such an elementary activity. But now that I am old, I can’t imagine expending that kind of energy.

  Eventually, Swan cried out, “Oh, Cleo, why don’t you join us? It really isn’t that hard.”

  I felt a buzz from the beer and the sun and lost some inhibition of looking a fool to Nikki, as I knew my Frisbee throws would pitter out into the sea or hit sand or worse, whack someone in the head. And Barbie looked so happy, pale cheeks flushed and blonde hair blowing in the breeze, I wanted to join her in a game that made her look more alive than I had ever seen her as an adult.

  I stood up and walked to Swan, who handed me the Frisbee. She said, “You curl it up under your arm and just give it a little twist with your wrist. Like this.” She tossed it to Reed. Reed swung it back to her, and she jumped up in the air to catch it. She handed it to me. “Try it.”

  I did as she instructed and aimed at Barbie. It skidded sideways and wobbly, hitting the ground several feet away from my sister. Barbie laughed, but not at me. She dashed to get it and threw it back to me. I almost caught it, but as it hit my hand, the rim spun around my fingers and the disk fell.

  “Throw it to me,” Nikki called out. I tried once more, and this time it soared way over his head. He tried to get it, anyway, jumping two feet in the air, then collapsing dramatically on the sand, laughing. He ran back to get it and threw it my way. It was a perfect throw and I caught it against my belly.

  I felt warmth in me as the blood flowed. I had never been interested in exercising, but this felt good, and I was brave enough to toss the Frisbee to D.D., but it swerved to the side and missed her. D.D. ran to get it, but instead of throwing it to me as the others had done, she expertly spun it out to Reed.

  The game continued and I got better, but not by much. What matters is that it was fun and I forgot about everything else as I focused on the game. That particular stretch of beach was secluded and once in a while people walked by, looking our way and smiling. Eventually,
Nikki stripped off his shirt and ran into the ocean, diving straight away. I watched him swim around and decided it was time for another drink. Reed joined Nikki as the rest of us gathered around Astra and Kurt. Astra pulled some pretzels out of one of the coolers and we all snacked. The Frisbee players talked excitedly, and I listened. They seemed more invigorated after the game, and there were a lot of jokes and much laughter.

  Nikki and Reed joined us again and they dried off, sitting on one of the blankets. D.D. pulled sandwiches out of a cooler and handed them out. I can’t remember what kind they were, though. Isn’t that strange? I remember everything.

  Maybe it is this third glass of wine, reporter. Or is this the fourth? I can’t remember that, either.

  The others took off shirts and pants and laid about in their swimsuits after slathering suntan lotion on their bodies. I felt shy about being in a suit, never having liked showing that much skin, but once I was on my back soaking in the sun, I felt better. I watched Barbie grab a soda from a cooler, her body so thin and frail and white. I wondered when the last time she ate was, before this beach lunch.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, and as the sun dipped low in the sky, Nikki suggested we get ready for dinner.

  “Where are we eating tonight?” Swan asked.

  Nikki told her he had a reservation at a restaurant nearby. We walked back to the beach house and each of us was directed to our own rooms to shower and dress. Nikki most certainly was wealthy, I figured as I took in the elaborate décor of my room and private bath. Where had he gotten all that money?

  We ate in a restaurant on top of a hotel. The east wall was all windows and looked out over the darkening sea. Candles lit the dining area. There was a jazz band and a small, wooden dance floor in front of the musicians. It really was a nice place, something only the wealthy could enjoy. The seafood dishes cost much more than the gas that took me to and from the shore. I gasped when I looked at the menu prices and Barbie whispered to me that Nikki would pay for all of us.

  I silently listened to the chatter of the others, feeling out-of-place, but grateful for the lessons my grandmother taught me about eating in places like these. Only Nikki and Barbie had the same training and the others were full of elbows on the table and napkins next to their plates instead of on their laps. They talked about things they had done in the past, a few improv stage stories, some jokes. They seemed to be having a fine night, like time was standing still and they did this kind of thing regularly.

  After we finished eating and the plates were removed, a woman took the microphone on stage and began singing a slow, sultry tune with the band. Reed stood and held out his hand to Barbie and off they went to the dance floor. D.D. nudged Nikki and he grinned at her. They joined Barbie and Reed.

  Astra and Kurt fell into a quiet discussion that I couldn’t hear, and Swan watched the band, but I watched the dancers. Nikki and D.D. were talking and laughing as they moved, Nikki occasionally dipping D.D. or swinging her around in an exaggerated way. Barbie and Reed held close to one another and Barbie twirled one of Reed’s dreadlocks in her hand. He pulled slightly away from her and kissed her lips so softly that it almost seemed like a first kiss, but I knew it couldn’t be. They were familiar with each other in an intimate way; that could be told in how they moved together.

  Swan leaned to my ear and said, “They seem like they would be such a happy couple.”

  “They aren’t happy?” I asked.

  She answered, “They aren’t a couple.”

  I watched Barbie and Reed a little longer, feeling confused.

  Swan added, “Since Ice’s wife died, he’s never taken to another woman. She really was his only true love.”

  I realized then that Swan was talking about Nikki and D.D. I said, “I didn’t know Nikki had been married. How did his wife die?”

  Swan told me, “She was murdered. They never caught the person who did it, either. Ice was devastated.”

  “How terrible,” I told her, and watched Nikki twirl D.D. around and catch her in his arms. He wore a charming smile, unaware that his life’s deepest tragedy was being spoken of a few feet away.

  “It’s where he gets all his money. His wife, Diane was her name, was very rich. It’s how he keeps the Beacon open and running. It’s how he does all of this for us.” She gestured around the room. Swan continued. “D.D. has been in love with Nikki for years, but he won’t go to her. He stays true to the memory of his wife. It’s sad to see that he won’t let go.”

  I thought of Patrick clearly, his hazel, shining eyes, his smooth movements. I could remember every detail that I had ever noticed about him. The way he breathed slow and deep, like he was always relaxing on a mountaintop somewhere, proud of his climb to the peak, taking in the beauty that his work had earned him. Then I thought of how his hand felt in mine, the sound of his voice calling me “Beautiful.” Did Nikki live with a ghost as I did? But I had let go. I had married and had a daughter.

  Swan interrupted my reverie by saying, “So I am sure you can understand why he is interested in channeling with the improv stage and in readings at the Beacon. He has always been trying to contact his wife, but I don’t think he ever has. If it happened, nobody has ever told me about it.”

  I nodded. I could understand that desire, but I felt at that moment there was a simple reason Nikki had never reached his wife; it wasn’t possible.

  After we left the restaurant, Barbie and Reed walked hand-in-hand back to the beach house and the rest of us trailed after them. I was feeling a bit tipsy from the wine at dinner, and I could tell the others were, as well, except for Barbie, who hadn’t had anything alcoholic to drink. They laughed and Nikki even sang “She Bop” with an Irish brogue. It was off-season at the shore, so there weren’t any people watching us to find us an odd lot. And we were that.

  More drinks were served back at Nikki’s beach house, but I was tired and over-stimulated. I went to my bedroom and slept almost instantly, regretting that I was letting this opportunity slip away from me because my body couldn’t last anymore.

  I woke very early. The clock told me it was 4:30 A.M. I dressed in comfortable clothes and prowled into the living room, afraid I might wake someone in the quiet hours before dawn.

  I heard a voice in the dark say, “Up already, Cleo?” It made me jump, but I recognized Nikki’s voice. I squinted through the darkness and made out a man’s form sitting on the couch.

  I asked him, “What are you doing?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

  I asked him why he wasn’t watching TV or reading, and why was he just sitting there like that, in the dark?

  He told me, “I was lying down, but I heard you coming. Do you always wake up this early? Or is it because you went to bed before the rest of us?”

  I explained that I had never woken after dawn as far back as I could remember. I added, “But I was very tired last night. I don’t usually have so much activity in my life.” It felt weird talking to him in the shadowy room; it made him seem less human. I made my way to an end table and turned on the lamp. Nikki shielded his eyes with one hand and squinted, smiling at me.

  “Never sleep in? I couldn’t do it.” He stood up, bleached hair falling over his eyes as he looked down at me, and said, “Take a walk with me on the beach. The sunrises here are fantastic.”

  I said I needed my shoes, but he assured me that I didn’t. “We’ll stick to the dry sand,” he said.

  The beach was chilly and the sand felt like it was nibbling on my toes. There was no moon, and as it was a small beach town with no city lights, the stars were shining above and reflecting on the waves. “It’s low tide,” Nikki said, and we began walking north.

  I couldn’t think of anything to say, and we moved silently, with only the waves to whisper its company to us. It felt right, natural. It seemed like we should be holding hands.

  When the sky over the sea started to pale, Nikki suggested we sit down and watch. We had walked so far that
there were no buildings nearby anymore, just the two of us. We sat close and I pulled my arms around myself to keep warm. Nikki had his knees up and elbows resting on them, a manly pose, and he kept his eyes on the horizon as though he were about to see the sun rise for the first time.

  I asked, “How long have Barbie and Reed been together?”

  “She hasn’t told you?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Barbie and I don’t talk about things.”

  “You sound more like brothers,” he said. “I can’t remember how long those two have been an item. I don’t have a great concept of time.”

  I asked him what he meant.

  He picked up a handful of sand from between his feet and let it sift through his fingers. “I haven’t for a while. I get days confused, my sleeping is sporadic.”

  “Any reason why?” I asked, but I thought I knew what the answer would be, and I was right.

  “My wife died and ever since then, I just kind of float through the hours, like I’m the ghost and she’s the one who’s still alive.” It was a blunt answer and his demeanor changed slightly, as though conversations of such a serious nature were rare. I didn’t see the cheerful beach-going bartender, but rather had a glimpse of Ice upon the Pond for the first time.

  I hadn’t spoken his name out loud since it had happened, but I said, “My first love died in the war. His name was Patrick.” The soft breeze picked up my words and carried them away as though I had never said them. Could I really be talking about him? I had buried that truth so deep inside me that it seemed not to be mine at all, but some secret dead with an ancient civilization.

  Nikki dropped the rest of his sand and took my hand. “We have so much in common, then.” He looked at me, saying, “I knew we did before we even met, just from Joanie talking about you.”

  I asked him, “Did she tell you about Patrick?” Saying his name again felt almost embarrassing, my hidden desires of my daydreams expressed in the inflection my voice gave to it.

  He shook his head. “Just a feeling. You never get over it, do you?”

  I didn’t answer, and the hand holding mine felt like Patrick’s hand, that rough tree bark, though Nikki’s hand was soft. Here we were, touching again. He was so casual about it and it seemed just right to do it. I didn’t think of Cecil. It felt innocent and so did I.

  After a moment, I asked, “What do you think about the grass and dreams? From the conversation yesterday?”

  He squeezed my hand and let go, and resumed fiddling with the sand. The sky was very light and the sun would peak out at any moment. “I think it’s possible to see the grass in a dream because our imaginations can come up with anything. I agree with Swan on this one.”

  When Swan had said it, it sounded so “middle-of-the-road,” as Reed had commented, but when Nikki said it, it was a well-grounded assumption.

  The tip of the sun shined its yellow flash out to us and Nikki’s dark eyes twinkled with it. I noticed circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, but he was smiling at the sun and I almost expected him to wave at it, like an old friend. The serious moment was gone and he was back to his cheerful self.

  “Butter-rum pancakes, you think?” he said. “I make great butter-rum pancakes.”

  I asked what those were.

  “You’ll just have to see.” He stood up and held out his hands to me, then pulled me up off of the sand. I brushed myself off and we walked back to the beach house. He talked about cooking and baking as though he were a talented chef, and after we returned and I had my first bite of the pancakes, I could see that he was. The others woke up one by one and helped themselves to the breakfast feast. After everyone was fed, they talked about going back down to the beach for the rest of the morning. I said, “Barbie and I should be going.”

  Reed kissed Barbie’s cheek. “See you tomorrow night?” he said.

  She nodded.

  Kurt nodded at us, and Astra said, “Safe trip, dears.”

  Nikki told me he hoped he would see me back at the Beacon sometime soon. He hugged Barbie, then me, and over his shoulder I saw D.D. frowning at me. No doubt she was jealous of how Nikki was treating me, but we had a bond now, one that I doubted she could understand. And the compassionate part of me hoped she would never understand that kind of pain.

  About halfway through our quiet ride home, Barbie broke the silence by saying, “You and Nikki seem to get along well.”

  I nodded, glancing at Barbie. “As do you and Reed.”

  She smiled softly. “Reed,” is all she said.

  I decided it was as good a time as it would ever be to ask about Mother again. I phrased it simply enough. “Tell me about our mother. What do you know?”

  She shook her head and picked at her fingernails, which were short and ragged. “I don’t know if you’ll understand. Well, I didn’t know, but I’m starting to think that you might. Now, anyway.”

  I said, “Now that what?”

  She said, “Now that you have opened your mind a little bit.”

  I pursed my lips. She thought I was close-minded, and that irritated me, but I pressed on. “Please, tell me what you know.”

  She sighed. “It’s complicated. Our father, you know.” Then she was quiet again.

  I said, “What about him?”

  “He wasn’t a vet, Cleo,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  She stopped messing with her fingernails and looked out the window. I couldn’t see her face as I kept glancing at her. “He was a psychiatrist, Mom’s psychiatrist.”

  I clutched the steering wheel as though it would give me strength. I didn’t understand. I said, “How could that be? I mean, what are you talking about?”

  She continued. “You said you were worried about her letters. Didn’t you ever wonder about her allergies? I mean, come on. Really. Mom’s been sick for years, or so the family thought. They sent her to doctor after doctor. Dad was the only one who got through to her. But they fell in love and moved away, made a new life together. Of course the family was furious at Dad for taking advantage of her, that’s how they saw it.”

  My driving was probably shaky at best by this point. “But how can that be? How could Dad be a vet if he was a shrink?”

  She said, “Dad had all the regular medical training and his dad, our grandfather, had been a vet. Dad knew his stuff. Mom and Dad just went to a small town that wouldn’t ask questions and he opened a vet office. You know the rest.”

  I rubbed my face, and then asked, “Well, what is wrong with her? With Mother? Are you telling me she is crazy?”

  Barbie explained, “Well, she’s paranoid about everything, you see. Dad was okay with her having a quiet little life and staying in a place she found safe. He thought that was a good treatment for her. And Cleo, they really did love each other, you know that, right?”

  “Of course I know that,” I said. I thought for a moment about my mother and her letters, how I had known there was something like that going on. But the part about my father really threw me. “Why didn’t anyone in the family tell me any of this?”

  She said, “They’re ashamed of it. Can you imagine Grandmother,” her voice changed to sounding a little bit like she was actually in one of her monumental arguments with the woman, “Letting people know her daughter was mentally ill? That she ran off with her psychiatrist? Think about it. What would people say? That’s what she was thinking. Big, prominent family in Birmingham. It would be scandalous.”

  I asked, “But how did you find out?” I paused. “Aunt Savannah told you, didn’t she?”

  She said, “I figured some of it out myself. Our uncle wasn’t a vet, so that was a clue that some lies had been told. Aunt Savannah just filled in the blanks.”

  I wondered how I couldn’t have seen it, and said so out loud.

  Barbie faced me. “You seemed to die after Dad did, Cleo. After that, you just didn’t look for anything anymore.”

  We rode in silence until we were back in Powelton Village and when I pa
rked in front of Barbie’s apartment house, I asked her, “Why did you think it was so important for me to have, as you say, an open mind? Why couldn’t you just tell me about it all?”

  Barbie rubbed her forehead as though trying to figure out if she could say what she wanted to. I suppose she decided she could because she told me, “Maybe Mother isn’t crazy, Cleo. Maybe there is something to it all.”

  I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, the things I’ve seen and felt at the Beacon…There’s more out there than we think,” she said.

  I felt anger in me, but tried to keep it under control so that Barbie would keep talking. “I take it you know more than I do about what Mother is going through, exactly.”

  Barbie squinted into the sunlight and rubbed her forehead again. “She has told me a lot of things. She was afraid to tell you, thinking you wouldn’t understand. But I’ve decided that something about what she goes through is special, not dangerous. Maybe she is, well, special. Gifted.”

  I couldn’t keep the anger from showing anymore. “Special? The woman couldn’t leave the house for at least a decade. How can that be special?”

  Barbie shook her head at me. “I guess you couldn’t understand, with your perfect little life and all that.”

  I almost yelled at her. “I understand that all of you are crazy! That’s what I understand.”

  She rolled her eyes and her shoulders slumped. “Oh, Cleo.” She got out of the car in slow motion, and I pulled away from the curb before watching her enter the door to her apartment house.

  I was livid.

 

  CHAPTER TWENTY