It was Dana, coming to her rescue. Lindsay couldn’t believe it had been a full hour already.
“So, what’d they get you with?” Dana asked, looking the costume up and down for damage.
“Just that.”
“That’s nothing.”
“It really wasn’t bad.”
“Yeah, no, you don’t want to say that too loud. Just wait till summer, it’s brutal inside that thing.”
“It was kind of fun, actually.”
“Okay,” Dana said, “now you’re scaring me.”
Inside, Tyler and Jared greeted her with laughter, miming karate chops.
“Go ahead, Lindsay Lohan!” Jared said.
“Best, Cup, ever,” Tyler said.
“A-thank you, a-thank you,” Lindsay said, trying to bow without falling over.
The next morning when she was doing her routine she felt something small bounce off her. On the sidewalk lay a smoldering cigarette, a Newport by the green bands around the filter. Whoever flicked it was through the light and gone, and really, it hadn’t hurt.
The half-full coffee that splashed across her sneakers was something else (“Okay, that’s fucked-up”), but still she kept on clowning, waving to the kids and the silly adults. Some woman in a two-tone van even took her picture. Looking out at the world through the mesh, Lindsay thought that you either got the Cup or you didn’t. She was glad she did, no matter what Dana said.
Later there would be other, more serious initiations, like the first time she cut herself slicing bread, the first time she burned herself on the oven, the first time Mr. Candele let her be the Finisher, but the Cup was the big one. From then on they treated her like an equal, all of them united against the customers who said, “Mmm... toasty” after the first bite.
By May she’d earned her first raise and developed a crush on Jared, which Dana immediately picked up on, ragging her mercilessly. Though it was hopeless, she looked forward to going in just to be with him. It was her place now, more so than home. Here she could be bitchy and silly, and when she was working side-by-side with Jared, happy, every second ripe with possibility. The right touch, the right look, and the whole world was hers. At dusk, when the dinner rush was kicking their asses and the headlights of passing cars reached in the window, sometimes she’d glance up from the sandwich she was making and catch a glimpse of the pigeons that lived beneath the underpass wheeling in front of the dark downtown, showing the white undersides of their stubby wings, and wonder if Kim ever felt like this.
Last Summer
After everything, she couldn’t go back to the Conoco. She hadn’t wanted to come home at all, and did only because her mom asked her. It would be cheaper, her mom said, as if she had to rationalize it somehow. Nina could save more money this way. Nina agreed, but told her this would probably be the last time.
“That’s fine,” her mom said. “I just need you here right now.”
Elise got her on at Sal’s, where the older crowd ate. After working food service at school she wasn’t shocked at how disgusting the kitchen was, or how much of the menu came straight out of cans. The customers loved it. She smiled and made great tips, proving her mom right.
She and Elise and J.P. were a unit. The Giant Eagle had closed, and he was working at the Golden Dawn downtown. He hadn’t bothered to fix his car; he said it looked better this way. They sunned by the river before shift and drank at the beach after. Hinch and Marnie were still at the DQ but didn’t hang out like they used to. The weather was forest-fire dry, the empty streets wavering in the heat. Some days it seemed like it could be last summer, that any second Kim would come walking out of the trees and across the rocks with her beach bag. It seemed impossible that it had been a year.
At the service marking the anniversary, the three of them sat together near the front. Lindsay had come back special from camp to read the lesson. Tall and tan, with her hair cut short, she looked more like Kim than ever. Kim’s mom had lost too much weight; her eyes were sunken, her cheeks creased. On his way out Kim’s dad nodded to J.P., they all saw it. They could only hope it was a start.
Later that night, in their jeans and sweatshirts, they sat around the fire and remembered how strong she was, how wild. Stubborn. Smart. Competitive. Elise admitted she was a little intimidated by her.
“Why?” Nina asked, though she knew exactly what she meant.
“I was,” J.P. confessed.
“You didn’t want to get on her bad side,” Elise said.
“No you didn’t,” J.P. agreed.
“It wasn’t like it was premeditated,” Nina said. “I’ve got a temper too.”
“And we still love you,” Elise said. “Remember the time she kicked that guy’s truck at White Turkey?”
“I thought she was going to kick his ass.”
“He asked for it,” Nina said. “He stole her spot.”
They drank to her, clinking the necks of their beers together, then sat listening to the waves folding over themselves. Out on the end of the jetty, the lighthouse swept its beam across the water. Above them, beyond the stars, the Milky Way flowed, ghostly. Despite all of their memories, every night they came to a place where there was nothing to say. There were still some beers left, but it was time to go home. Nina thought that Kim would have hated knowing she was the reason they were sober.
In bed she listened to the one o’clock moving through and imagined herself lost in the dark woods, trying to orient herself by the echoes. A short blast and then a long flaring one like a warning. There were pockets of marsh back in there, stands of cattails and black pools teeming with mosquitoes. One of her worst fears from childhood was stepping off the path and being sucked under the mud. What had happened to Kim was something else, but the result was the same, and in the drowsy, dreamy interlude before sleep she had a hard time keeping the two of them separate. In the morning she would recall this confusion and see it as wishful, as if she could save Kim by becoming her. Or maybe, she thought, she missed Kim so much that she wanted to be with her.
Elise had been having dreams too. In one the three of them hiked out the tracks west of town to the bridge like when they were kids, except when they got there a fire was burning in the middle of the trestle. Kim wanted to walk out and douse it with her Girl Scout canteen, and they had to stop her.
“What do you think it means?”
“We should go out there,” Nina said.
She expected Elise to protest, but the idea had been in her head longer than Nina’s.
“Should we take J.P.?” Elise asked.
No, they needed to do this alone.
When Nina told him their plan, he said he understood, but she could see he wanted to come. He told her to be careful, as if it was dangerous.
Wednesday at nine in the morning he dropped them off with their backpacks at the crossing by Crawford Container, then stood there waving good-bye over the roof of his car. She was afraid he was going to watch them all the way around the bend, and was relieved when she looked back and he was gone.
The right-of-way was raised and uneven, a mound of loose stones that clashed with every step. They each chose a track and soon fell into rhythm, walking side-by-side over the oil-darkened ties. A sign advised them that they were trespassing on Conrail property. The trees were still, the sky cloudless. Sun glinted off the rails.
“What are you going to do about him?” Elise asked.
“What?”
“What what. You know what.”
“Nothing,” Nina said.
“Probably smart.”
“I don’t think it would be good, with everything.”
“You should tell him that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s seriously painful to watch.”
“And this would make it better how ...?”
“At least he’d know then.”
“Sometimes it’s better not to know.” She didn’t mean about Kim, it just came out that way. Everything was about her now. It was w
hy Nina hadn’t wanted to come back, and why anything with J.P. seemed sketchy. “Why don’t you tell him if you’re so worried?”
“I will if you want me to.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Just let it go, okay?”
“Okay,” Elise said, holding both hands in front of her like she was afraid.
They walked on, not talking. There was no shade. They were wearing their swimsuits under their cutoffs, and Nina was beginning to sweat. The rails lay straight on ahead, vanishing a mile away in a white haze. Their pilgrimage had seemed like a good idea—as if by retracing their steps they might recover something—but now she wasn’t sure. There was nothing out here but the daisies and weeds on both sides, simmering with insects. They passed a neat stack of ties soaked black with creosote, and, later, a dead fire with a scattering of cracked red keg cups. From the woods came the razzing of a dirt bike, so close it was threatening, then gradually moving away, still hidden. She could see how for kids this would have been an adventure. She would have never been brave enough to come out here by herself. Like all of their boldest exploits, the idea had been Kim’s.
After a while they stopped beneath a tall signal showing two green lights. Elise had brought water, and they passed the bottle back and forth.
“I’ve got no problem with it,” Elise said. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Thanks for your permission.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Jesus, that’s all I need right now.”
“You know what scares me?” Elise said. “We’re turning into a couple of old maids.”
“I’m just taking a break.”
“Right, me too.”
“It’s not like it’s going to be forever.”
“I hope not. I’m getting weirder every day. The other night I was actually thinking of giving Sam a call.”
“You should have. Sam’s harmless.”
“Exactly,” Elise said.
The signal above them clunked and turned red.
Nina checked her watch. “The ten thirty’s early.”
Elise offered her the bottle a last time, then zipped her pack closed, and they set off again.
Nina measured her stride to fit the ties. Though she didn’t show it, what Elise said bothered her. Since Kim disappeared she’d become cautious about guys. It only made sense. It wasn’t like she decided to feel that way, she just did. Where she’d been living, her paranoia was justified. There had been three rapes in the neighborhood right next to campus, and the security in her dorm was a joke. At night, walking back from the library, she stayed in sight of the blue lights of the emergency phones, her room key protruding from one fist like a blade.
They hadn’t gone far when the drumming of diesels overtook them. The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere, though behind them there was no sign of a train. In the distance the headlight appeared. Nina’s rails began to sing, a metallic lashing that ran through the steel like a current until it was drowned out by the engines. They crossed the stony right-of-way and stopped shy of the weeds and stood there as the train hurtled past. Elise waved, and the engineer tipped his cap.
The train was a deadheading freight hauling dozens of empty silver-sided autoracks. They flashed by, rocking on their springs. Elise clamped both hands over her ears until the last car passed—an autorack, not a caboose, and Nina felt cheated.
They checked both ways before getting back on the tracks. The rails were singing again, long shivery filaments that lingered well after the train was gone. Soon there was nothing but the birds and insects and their own footsteps.
Up ahead the tracks curved.
“How far is it?” Elise asked.
“Not far. A half hour?”
When they were in middle school, going out and back took all day. They packed sandwiches and Goldfish and Kool-Aid Koolers they’d frozen overnight, and Kim brought her dad’s old transistor radio so they’d have music. They had their cellphones in case something happened, a safeguard that now seemed ridiculous. How could their parents have ever let them go alone?
Beyond the curve they came upon an old spur Nina remembered, a single pair of bedless tracks veering off into saplings and weeds. Somewhere back in there was a flooded gravel pit where people had bonfires. The river ran right behind it.
“We must be close,” she told Elise.
“Good.”
Minutes later she could hear the rush of water like far-off traffic and held out an arm to stop her.
“What?”
“Listen.”
As they walked, the noise grew until finally the trees gave on open space, the land dropping away sharply. The bridge straddled a low falls where the river pinched in. With the dry spell the channel was narrow, shoals of stones along each bank. Upstream the water was dark as oil, and smooth, undulating in waves before it entered the chute, pouring over boulders, breaking white around the pilings and swirling in turbid pools on the far side. That was where they’d jump.
The drop was at least thirty feet.
“I don’t know,” Elise said.
“I don’t know either.”
There was no choice. They tugged off their clothes and shoved them in their packs, folded their sunglasses and pulled their hair back, double-knotted their beat-up sneakers. As if in tribute, they were both wearing their suits from last summer.
Just walking out onto the trestle was a test. There was no railing, and you could see through the ties to the hillside sloping away below. Nina went first, hunched over her feet, arms out for balance. A light breeze was sweeping down the river, and she imagined herself sailing off the side like a kite. She paused before a gap in the ties to get both feet into position and lost all momentum. They hadn’t even reached the river yet. Beneath her the treetops rose like spikes. If she fell, at the very least she’d break a leg—her spine, more likely. Elise would have to climb down and get her, and they were miles from the nearest road. They’d have to bring in the Life Flight, except there was nowhere to land.
“You okay?” Elise asked, right behind her.
“I’m good,” she said, but she had to wait a few seconds before she could step over the hole.
“You want me to go first?”
“I’m good,” Nina said, then, after her legs balked again, “Yeah, why don’t you.”
Elise didn’t have any trouble, while she shuffled across, stopping often. Elise waited for her, talking to give her something to focus on. “I can’t believe we used to think this was fun. A train’s not going to come while we’re out here, right?”
“No,” Nina said. She could barely speak. She needed all her concentration to stay upright.
As they crossed above the riverbank they stopped to toss their packs over the side. She wouldn’t let Elise help her slip out of hers. It landed on the rocks, raising a puff of dust.
“Is it easier without it?”
“No.”
They were over the water when she got stuck again.
“Want to turn around?”
“No.”
“All right. This one’s not that big.”
“Fuck! Why can’t I do this?”
“You are doing this,” Elise said. “Come on, we’re almost there.”
It was a lie designed to keep her moving, and it worked. She knew how far they’d come. There was no way she was going back.
Once they’d made it and were centered above the pool, Elise helped her sit down. Even with her bottom solidly planted, she was afraid she’d slip between the ties. Below, the dark water swelled. It was impossible to tell how deep it was, and they sat for a while in the sun, resting, looking off over the river and the trees, still as a picture. High up, a hawk was turning circles, and she thought that if Kim’s spirit was anywhere, it was here.
“Three Amigos,” she said, pressing the Boy Scout salute to her heart, meeting Elise’s outstretched fingertips, then touching her chest again.
“Three Amigos,” Elise said. “We should have brought a bottle of champagne or something.”
“Or at least some Kool-Aid Koolers.”
“The blue ones.”
“The green ones,” Nina said. “Sorry I’m being such a chicken.”
“That’s okay, I’m one too.”
“No, you saved me. I never used to be afraid. It sucks.”
“Maybe it’s temporary,” Elise said.
“I hope so.”
“Let’s find out.”
She pushed herself up and offered Nina a hand.
“Can’t we just stay here?”
“You can if you want to.”
There was no point in stalling. It was the whole reason they came. She knew she couldn’t do it alone, and she didn’t want to be stuck up here by herself. Still she couldn’t move.
“Come on. For Kim.”
“Not fair.”
“Okay,” Elise said, and swung her arms like she was going to jump.
“Wait.”
She reached out and Elise helped her to her feet. She crouched, knees bent, as if she wanted to sit down. Elise steadied her and got her to walk. They baby-stepped toward the edge. Far below, the water rolled in a slow boil.
“Oh shit,” she said.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“For Kim,” Elise said, and together, screaming, they jumped.
Once they were in the water, she was fine, and could laugh at herself. Doing it was easy. It was the anticipation that was nerve-racking. All she needed was the courage to make up her mind. Later she would think it was the same with J.P. After she kissed him, the rest just happened naturally.
Catch and Release
With Lindsay away at camp they were alone, and the days slowed. Cooper moped around the house, searching for her. After dinner he snuck upstairs and sacked out under her bed, and they had to wake him up to go pee.
Apparently she had a boyfriend named Chris who taught archery, though over the phone she wouldn’t commit to how serious it was. “He’s a really nice guy,” she said, whatever that meant. Fran wanted to trust her judgment. She had Cabin 15, the eleven- and twelve-year-olds, a tough age, lots of drama. Their nightly devotions focused on how they could treat one another better.
Songs for the Missing Page 26
