by L. G. McCary
She stands up, sputtering and laughing. “It got me!”
“Are you okay?”
“It got me, Mommy!” She reaches for my hand again and jumps over the next wave, sneezing water through raucous laughter. “This is so fun!”
I look back on the beach to see my parents relaxing under their umbrella. Dad is snapping photos with his camera, and my mom is laughing behind her book.
“Here comes another one, Rylie! Ready?” We jump and the wave pushes us toward the beach again.
“Can we stay here always?”
I wish we could. The salt on my skin and the sound of the ocean waves makes me feel lighter than I have in years. I can’t remember the last time Rylie and I played together like this.
She finally tires, and we run back to my parents’ umbrella.
“My goodness, are you going to collapse, honey?” my mom asks me, brushing the brim of her floppy sun hat up from her face.
“Probably.” I flop onto my beach towel and groan.
“I love the beach!” Rylie hollers between chugs of water from her sand-encrusted water bottle.
“I can tell.” My dad chuckles, setting his camera back in its bag. “What do you say we get something to eat?”
“That is an excellent idea,” I say.
Rylie nods. She’s chugging more water.
“I vote for burgers,” my dad says with a grin. “There’s a spot up the beach that has really good ones. And fish and chips for your mother.”
“Yuck,” Rylie says.
“Not for you, silly,” my dad says. “For your grandma!”
We finally agree that food is necessary and pack up to find the restaurant. It’s too beautiful to eat inside, so we sit at a table on the pier and watch the gulls begging and diving for leftovers. Rylie is too hungry to talk.
“Your mother and I are going to get a special treat,” Dad whispers to me as he stands up and winks conspiratorially. “There’s a place that sells fried ice cream. We’ll be back in a minute.”
Rylie watches them go, focused on inhaling as many fries as her mouth can fit. She’s almost to the bottom of the basket. I look out over the blue waves and let them lull me into a trance as I chew my burger.
“Mama, are Miss Renee and Mr. Casey going to get a divorce?”
I practically choke on my bite of hamburger. I swallow it slowly and look at my little seven-year-old cherub, picking at her burger and chips.
“What makes you think that, sweetie?” I ask, trying to sound calm.
I’ve wondered how they had been doing. Renee picks on him so much in Sunday school.
“Because Miss Renee yells a lot.”
“She does?”
“Yeah, whenever I go to their house, she yells.”
“At you?”
“No, at Mr. Casey. And Gabby and Missile. Everybody else but me.”
“I see.”
I can easily see Renee yelling at everyone. She yells at her kids at church, so I’m sure it’s worse at home. But I doubt they’re in that much trouble.
“Missile said she thinks they’re going to get a divorce, and then she’ll live in two houses.”
“Missile thinks that?”
“Yeah.” Rylie crunches a fry and looks back at the ocean. “She was sad.”
“I would be sad, too,” I say. That’s when I notice Rylie’s quivering lip.
“Mama,” she asks, turning back to me. “You and Daddy don’t yell. But you’re still mad, right?”
“Sometimes we get mad, yes.”
“You’re not going to get a divorce, are you?”
“Oh, sweetie, no!” I scoot over on the bench to hug her. My heart is crushed. She is trying so hard not to cry. “Mama and Daddy fight sometimes, but that’s never going to happen, I promise.” I can’t even bring myself to say the word “divorce.”
She sniffs and takes another bite of a chip.
“I love your daddy,” I whisper, but it feels like a lie. I haven’t been acting like I love him. I’m just so angry with him. Why doesn’t he see it isn’t worth the risk for more kids? I keep hoping he’ll realize I’m not going to change my mind and accept it. But holding my sniffling daughter here on the pier, shame pours over me. I thought we had hidden it from her, but she sees we’re struggling. I don’t know what to do. She scrubs the tears away with her fists and hugs me.
The waves crash against the pier, and we sit for a long moment. I have to reassure her, even if I can’t reassure myself.
“Rylie, thank you for talking to me about this,” I say, raising her chin and brushing her salty hair out off her forehead. “I’m sorry that Missile is worried, but your daddy and I love each other even when we’re mad. And Miss Renee and Mr. Casey do, too.”
“But what if they do get a divorce?”
My sweet girl is worried for her best friend. And now I’m wondering if I should let them play so often.
“I don’t think they will, Rylie.” I don’t want to be dishonest, though. Renee has been angry ever since Noah’s birth. At Bible study, I heard someone tell her she shouldn’t be so hard on Casey, and Renee actually responded, “Shut up.” She played it off as sarcasm, but we all knew it wasn’t.
“We’ll pray for them, okay? We’ll pray that God helps Miss Renee and Mr. Casey not to yell so much.”
“Okay.”
As I whisper a prayer, I worry about what to do next. Should I keep Rylie from playing at their house for awhile? Should I talk to Renee? Maybe David could talk to Casey. Or maybe I could ask Grace to talk to Renee.
“Amen. Can we go play in the ocean again?”
“We’d better wait for Grandma and Grandpa and their surprise.”
“Ok. I hope it’s a guinea pig.”
I snort. “It’s not that. But you’ll still like it.”
Twenty-Two
“Rylie, drop your suitcase in the laundry room so we can wash your clothes.”
“Mama, it smells funny.”
“What smells funny?”
“The house.”
“Hmm. I wonder why?”
“It smells like wood or something.”
“Why don’t you find Daddy?” I muse nonchalantly from the back of the car. “Maybe he’ll know why it smells weird.”
“Daddy!” Rylie hollers into the house. She disappears around the corner, and I sneak into the house behind her. “Daddy, where are you?”
She sheds her jacket on the couch and follows David’s voice to her room. The door is shut.
“Who is that out there?” David teases.
“Daddy, what are you doing in my room?” she says, hands on her hips. I stay hidden behind the edge of the hallway entrance.
“Open the door and see.”
She turns the doorknob and squeals as she sees inside.
“My bed!”
“I made something for you, Rylie-Girl!”
“It’s ballet! It’s a ballet room!” she shrieks with delight. “Mama, my room!”
“What do you think?” David asks me.
The room is completely transformed. He chose a clean, modern design for her new loft bed, but he painted it ballet pink. He’s even hung her tutu on one corner. Her desk is lit by rope lights that encircle the underside of the bed. But the main attraction is the barre.
Not only is there a barre, but David has installed a proper wooden dance floor, filling half the room and a full-wall mirror. He has also added can lights above the floor. Her ballet shoes are waiting for her on the floor.
“Wow, your daddy is pretty amazing, isn’t he?” I pat her shoulder and smile at David. “Good job.”
“I got a good deal on the mirror,” he says. “Casey found it through a friend at work.”
“I can dance in my room! I can dance, Mama! Watch!”
She tosses her shoes off, and I wince.
“Is that glass safe?”
“It’s from a yoga studio that closed, so it’s specifically designed for gyms,” David says. “Even if she hits it,
it won’t shatter.” The engineer thinks of everything. I should have known. “But we’re also going to lay some ground rules,” he winks at me. “Rylie, you have to be careful with your new special mirror and barre. That is glass, and it can break. So can the barre.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“No throwing toys, especially hard ones, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And no hanging on the barre like a monkey.”
“Okay.” She is only half-listening. She is too busy putting on her ballet shoes. “Watch me!”
She steps to the barre and stands in first position, left arm on the barre and right arm outstretched.
“And plié!” she says and bends her knees. She snaps back up and grins. “And grand plié!” She bends her knees deeper this time and laughs. “And relevé!” She lifts up onto her tiptoes and raises her arm above her head.
“Such a beautiful little ballerina!” I say.
“Okay, come here and let me show you your bed!” David tickles her and puts her over his shoulders. “See this right here? It’s a little tiny table for your water bottle. And if you don’t need it, you can swing it out and away, like this!”
The triangular platform glides up, over, and out of sight behind the head of the bed.
“Nice, Daddy,” I say.
“Same as our desks in Raymond Hall, remember? Same principle anyway,” he reminds me. I nod and grin, remembering those funny small desks.
“And under here is your desk for doing your homework,” he continues. “See this button? That’s for the rope lights. Push it.”
She jabs the large white button, and the lights blink out. She turns them back on and giggles.
“I want to do my ballet now,” she says, wiggling out of his arms and running back to the barre.
“Okay, but what are the rules?” David asks her.
“No throwing hard things and no...um...” she frowns and taps her finger on her cheek pensively. “No hanging! No hanging on the barre.”
“Good girl.”
I watch her bounce up and down. David turns off the overhead light, so the room is lit only by her new rope lights. The room is cozy and inviting, perfect for my little girl.
Eyes. It looks like there are eyes peering out at me from the bed. I’m frozen in place. I’m not seeing this. It’s an afterimage from the bright lights a few moments ago. It must be. I slowly turn away to watch Rylie in the mirror. There are no eyes in the mirror. Just the glow from the porch light peeking through the blinds.
“I’m going to finish unloading the car,” I say, leaving David and Rylie in the room. I flip the porch light off as I step through the hallway to the living room and roll my eyes at myself. This is getting ridiculous. I don’t know what She wants, but I wish She’d just tell me. These images simply interrupt my day, but I have no idea what they mean. I’m tired of trying to figure out the message behind them.
Maybe there is no message.
Twenty-Three
“Hi, ladies,” I say as Renee troops through our front door with Liana and Gabby. She told me she was leaving Noah home with Casey for “man time.”
“Show me this ballet room I’ve heard so much about!” Renee says to Rylie.
Rylie grabs Liana’s hand and leads everyone to her room. She’s made it her own over the last two weeks. Liana and Gabby ooh and ahh.
“Take your shoes off!” Rylie commands. “No shoes on my dance floor. Only socks or ballet shoes.”
“And what are the other rules, sweetie?” I ask her.
“No hanging on the barre and no throwing toys. You could break the mirror!” she says, shaking a finger at Gabby, who is too busy taking off her shoes to care.
“It’s even fancier than Casey said,” Renee says. “This is like a real studio!”
“Thanks for letting David borrow him for the week.”
“Got him out of my hair, so thank you!” She laughs.
Rylie steps to the barre and begins a basic warmup routine. After watching, Liana and Gabby follow her lead for a few minutes. We leave the girls to play and fill our coffee mugs in the kitchen. Renee tells me about Liana’s gymnastics class, and I nod while I try to figure out how to bring up what Rylie told me at the beach. Maybe I shouldn’t worry so much. Kids can assume a lot from small things. I also don’t want to upset Renee.
But I can’t help but remember her tone in Bible study. I trace the handle of my mug with my finger to focus my nerves. It’s not like I have anything to really offer her in the way of advice. Sometimes I can barely be in the same room with David.
“So I have to tell you what happened at the softball game the other night,” Renee says, voice low. She glances over her shoulder toward the hallway to Rylie’s room. “If David hadn’t abandoned the team this year, you would have been there to see Greg blow his stack. Got in the umpire’s face and yelled at him right in the middle of the game. It was crazy, Charlotte. He hadn’t got a hit all night, then the umpire calls his third out, and he just loses it.” She’s waiting for my reaction, but I’m so stunned I don’t know what to say.
“Wow.”
“Casey and Reuben had to pull him back to the bench. Like physically separate him.”
I’m at a loss for words. That sounds so unlike Greg.
“Tori just sat there in the bleachers.” Renee rolls her eyes. “I mean, come on. Tell him to chill. He was being ridiculous.”
“She was probably embarrassed.” My stomach clenches. I don’t feel good about this conversation at all, but I can’t think of anything else to talk about.
“Then she should be embarrassed all the time,” she says, sipping her coffee with a smirk. “Yvonne told me Greg didn’t apologize until Reuben told him he’d be ejected from the game if he didn’t.”
“Really?”
“She said he was bright red the whole conversation.”
“But he did apologize,” I say. It’s the only positive thing I can think of.
“It wasn’t sincere. He just didn’t want to get kicked out.”
I say nothing. Renee tends to be dramatic. I don’t know Yvonne very well outside of school meetings, but her husband Reuben seems nice. I don’t know how much I should believe this story. Greg is opinionated and blunt, but I can’t imagine him actually yelling at anyone.
“Don’t you think it’s messed up, Charlotte?”
“Yes!” I stammer. “I’m just...”
“The whole team looked like jerks in front of Grace Presbyterian. One of the girls I used to work with goes there!” Renee complains.
I don’t answer. No matter what I say, I could hurt Tori if Renee repeats it later. I wish I could think of a way to change the subject. Why am I so bad at this?
“So she hasn’t told you anything?” Renee asks, leaning her chin on her hand.
“Who?”
“Tori!”
“No.”
Renee sips her coffee and peers at me over her mug. “I heard someone say she and Greg were in counseling. If not, they should be. Or at least anger management for him.”
I don’t know if Tori is still seeing Darren. Our schedules changed years ago, and I ended my visits when Rylie started school. I can’t decide if saying nothing is better or worse than trying to come up with something to say.
“Has she mentioned counseling?” Renee says. The directness of the question shakes me out of my worrying. Suddenly I’m angry. It’s wrong of her to ask. Their daughter is terrified they will divorce, and she’s poking her nose into Tori’s marriage. Of all people!
“No.” The word is flat on my tongue, but I try to put a finality in it that will shut Renee down. “And I’m sure Greg was just having a bad day. We all have bad days.”
“Yeah, he has a lot of bad softball days.” She gives me a look and sips her coffee.
“They have a lot on their plate right now,” I falter. “Has he finished installing the new sound system in the youth room?”
“I don’t know, probably,” Renee says. “He’s
doing it for free, so he’s been kind of slow about it.”
I shift in my seat and try to think of some way to change the conversation. I keep thinking about Rylie crying on the beach. I have to change the subject. I can’t sit through more questions about my best friend from someone who is supposedly her friend, too.
Renee purses her lips, and I want to tell her not to say whatever she’s thinking. Whenever she makes that face, she ends up saying something she shouldn’t.
“I also heard he applied to FCS for the high school admin job,” she says.
“What?” I say. “Who told you that?”
“Somebody in the office.”
“I hadn’t heard anything about it from Tori.” My voice is more defensive than I mean it to be. Why didn’t Tori tell me?
“You don’t have to get all mad at me, Charlotte,” Renee says, rolling her eyes.
“I’m not mad.” I step away from the kitchen counter. “Come on, let’s sit in the living room. The couch is more comfortable.”
It’s also closer to our children, which means Renee won’t be able to say as much. I hope.
“What’s with Tori’s dresses and stuff lately?” Renee says, settling in on the couch with her legs criss-cross underneath her.
“What do you mean?” I say, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
“Oh, come on. You know,” Renee says. “Her hair. It’s always up in a bun or a braid now. And those long skirts.”
“They’re trendy,” I say.
“Uh, no,” Renee says. “Not that kind. It’s just weird. I mean, she still looks cute, but it’s weird.”
I look down at my hands and wish I had never invited Renee over. I shouldn’t have to defend one of my friend’s reputation to another. I shiver and notice Her watching me from the kitchen, shimmering like a mirage. What I can make out of Her face looks familiar, but I can’t figure out why. It’s difficult to make out Her whole face at once, but She shakes Her head slowly, and I can see Her mouth is set in a thin line. I feel a flicker of defiance kindle in my chest.
“You okay, Charlotte? Did you hear me?”
