by Jon Keller
Did it even matter if she trusted him?
She rubbed her palms together. She slid off the rock and crossed to the truck. It was already moving as she swung in and closed the door and together she and Julius Caesar Wesley raced across the barren rim as the world hurled itself into darkness.
When Charlotte got home Jonah was sitting at the table with her parents. They’d finished dinner but their plates were still on the table.
Jonah sipped his beer.
Charlotte hugged Celeste and kissed Virgil on the cheek.
Do you want some dinner, honey? Celeste said.
There was a place set for her.
I have homework.
You can sit down with us, Virgil said. He had Chowder in his lap. He sipped his brandy and milk.
Charlotte took her sweatshirt and hat off and sat down.
You should eat something, Celeste said. Did you have any dinner?
I’ll have a sandwich later.
Where’ve you been? Virgil said.
Just out with some friends.
What friends?
Charlotte didn’t answer.
Virgil grunted. What friends?
She looked at Jonah then away and he felt a bolt like a taproot run down his chest and stomach and his stomach cramped. He finished his beer and waited. He knew what she would say. He felt the bolt drive into his groin and his knees began to shake. He flexed his thighs and calves but that didn’t stop his knees.
Julius, Charlotte said. We went up to the barrens since there’s not much snow up there yet. The new burns are still pretty red now.
Virgil didn’t say anything.
Jonah peeled the label off his beer. Blood pumped like hydraulic fluid in his ears. He set the empty bottle on the wooden table next to his placemat and spun it. Fucking Julius, he said. He stood from the table and went down the hallway and out the door. He rubbed his hands hard in his hair and felt the pull on his scalp. He stepped from the porch and started down the driveway.
Fucking Julius is right, Virgil said and he looked at his daughter in a way he’d never looked at her before with his eyes dark and half closed and his mouth tight. Celeste had seen the look before but never directed at their family. The look chilled her but Charlotte endured it.
Celeste went after Jonah and called to him from the porch. He turned and waited and lit a cigarette as she crossed the driveway. She caught him beneath the birch trees. The branches were framed like finger bones against the porch light.
Celeste crossed her arms for warmth.
I’m sorry for that, he said to her.
Jonah, she said. Stay here for a while. I made an apple pie.
I don’t need pie, he said.
Stay here tonight.
I don’t think so. Don’t worry about it, he said and smiled but the smile made Celeste worry.
You won’t do anything will you?
What do you mean?
To Julius.
Christ, Celeste. I just want to be alone.
• • •
Virgil stared at Charlotte until she stood up and asked him, What?
Fucking Julius Wesley? My daughter is looking at the clamfucked new burn foliage in the middle of winter with Julius Wesley.
I wasn’t fucking Julius Wesley.
Virgil waited.
He’s nice. I know he acts tough and stuff. But he’s just a scared boy is all and at least he’s not drunk all the time. I’d be scared too if you and Jonah and Bill were after me.
Virgil didn’t respond. He ruffled Chowder’s ears. Celeste came back inside and she was pale and exhausted. She took her wineglass into the kitchen and poured a full glass and came back into the dining room.
I told you why I don’t like Julius and it’s not about fishing, Virgil finally said.
That’s not true.
You don’t know what you’re talking about, Virgil said. You’re just a spoiled little girl.
Well you’re just a drunk old man that everyone thinks is crazy. Do you even know that?
Virgil stood up and did so more quickly than either Celeste or Charlotte thought possible. He stepped in front of Charlotte so close that she could taste his brandy in the back of her throat. She looked down at her feet but he lifted her chin and she heard her mother say, Virgil, but he said, You have no idea, Charlotte. I keep things to myself so they don’t touch you. But this is about Julius. That boy is dangerous.
His voice was gentle and was kind and was the voice of her father. She relaxed but he was still so close. He is a bad man, Charlotte. You will not ride around with him and you will not see him, do you understand that? Did you ask him about that sister of his? Did you ask how long he held her underwater? Did he tell you what he did for his father?
Yes, I did ask him. And yes, I know what his father did but Julius just wants to fish lobster like you guys.
Virgil stepped away and Charlotte glanced at her mother then went up the stairs. Virgil sat down. Sweat dotted his chin and nose and he wiped at it but missed. He finished his drink and set the glass on the table. Fuck, he said.
You need to stop drinking, Celeste said. Now.
I just buried Nicolas.
I don’t care what you just did. You want to know why she likes Julius? Because he’s not you is why. You can’t understand that?
I understand fine.
They sat for several minutes then Celeste said, Is Jonah going to do something?
I imagine he will. Jonah ain’t much till he gets his get going. Then he’s a mean fighting sonofawhore. He beat the shit out of the Captain on the boat till I pulled him off.
That’s what I’m worried about.
I’ll get him.
I don’t have to go with you do I?
To chaperone?
Yes.
I guess not.
• • •
Celeste climbed the stairs and stopped outside Charlotte’s door. Her breath came long and sluggish and out of sync with the thudding of her heart. She took two deep breaths and tucked her hair behind her ears. She set her hand on the door frame. Her fingers were pale and cracked and they shook and she caught herself thinking all of this to be testament to her own failure but she knew it was not.
She forced her knuckles against the door wood. Charlotte told her to come in and Celeste opened the door and shut it behind her. Charlotte was in her bed with a book. The bedside lamp glowed like a spotlight. Celeste turned the desk chair around and sat down and crossed her legs and ran both hands over her thighs and wondered why the room and daughter both felt so unfamiliar.
Are you okay, honey?
Charlotte tipped her book against her chest and held her page with her thumbs. She sucked her lips in and said, I hate him. He’s fat and drunk all the time, Mom.
The muscles on Celeste’s back and stomach tightened. She stopped herself from defending her husband. I don’t know what to do, she confessed.
He was like this before Jonah’s dad died and now he’s worse. They found a body, Mom. Doesn’t anybody think that’s crazy? Why won’t you call the police? Why doesn’t someone call the police? Why don’t the police even know?
How could they know? Celeste said. As far as anyone but your father’s concerned, Nicolas died by accident and that was that. I don’t know what happened, but you have to believe me that your father’s mind isn’t like ours. We have to trust him, I think. I know I sound crazy to you, honey. But at least trust me.
It’s like Mexico or something around here. I can’t wait to move.
I know you can’t. It’ll come soon.
I just want to get out of here, Mom. Charlotte hit the mattress with the side of her fist like a slowly swung gavel. Tears streamed down her face and she sniffled and the face that had looked more and more like an adult’s now looked like a child’s. Her back shook. I want to get away from Dad and Jonah and all of this. Jonah’s going to grow up to be just like Dad. What if one of them dies, Mom? What if Jonah dies?
Celeste stood from the desk chair and moved to
the bed and sat with her hip against her daughter’s. She put her arm around Charlotte. Jonah will be fine. They both care about you, honey. Don’t take that for granted. I’m going to talk to your father.
I don’t know why you put up with him. I’d divorce him if it was me. Why don’t you make him stop? Just make him stop. Charlotte’s voice sounded like it came from far away. I’m not going to live here and wait for Jonah all day long and get fat and watch television and change diapers and hope he’s not going to be dead because of some stupid lobster traps. I saw Nicolas. I just keep thinking that it could have been Dad. Why don’t you call the police, Mom?
Celeste nodded and separated herself from Charlotte. She tried to clear her throat but it had constricted. She felt a bead of sweat drop from her armpit and trickle down her rib cage. She forced herself to speak. You mean you don’t want to be like me? Fat and waiting for my husband? Just a docile wife?
Charlotte’s face calmed. That’s not what I mean, Mom.
I’ll tell you something, Charlotte. I am happy with my life. It’s not perfect but nobody’s life is. Your father is an alcoholic. I’m sorry for that. But he’s got a kind heart and he doesn’t mean anyone harm. He loves the two of us and he loves Jonah and Bill and he will do anything for any of us. Don’t you forget that. There’re a lot of people out there that would do anything for a father like you have.
I don’t see why he won’t drink less.
He can’t stop is why. Celeste took a deep breath and ran her hands over her thighs and stretched her back then relaxed.
Charlotte put a bookmark in her book and set it down. She wiped at her tearstained face and scratched her arm. I can’t stand this. I hate this.
I hope your father knows what he’s doing, Celeste said.
They sat together without talking for a few minutes then Celeste said, Charlotte, what are you doing with Julius?
I’m having fun. He’s nice and he doesn’t want to get married and he doesn’t drink. We can just talk. He’s sweet down deep, Mom. Sometimes I think Jonah’s the opposite. He’s sweet on the outside but mad and mean down deep.
He’s a handsome boy, Celeste said.
Charlotte smiled and touched her fingertips to her neck. She thought of the black spark in Julius’s eyes and the cold wind on her wet skin but somehow not of the tooth.
Don’t confuse those things, Celeste said.
What things?
You know damned well what things. I see you smiling, honey. Just be careful. Celeste paused and looked around the room. And I don’t know what went on with you and Jonah, but you at least owe him respect. Are you sure you’re not trying to upset him? Or trying to upset your father?
Dad’s just so drunk all the time. I can’t stand it.
Neither can I.
You need to get him to stop.
Well, Celeste said and patted Charlotte’s arm and stood up. I don’t know if anyone can do that.
• • •
Jonah piloted his boat through the night. He watched the numbers on his GPS and he watched the shadows of islands shift and orbit like planets as the space spread before him. The bow spray splashed white against the boat’s chines and Jonah thought that perhaps Charlotte had been right and he did need help but he knew not from what direction. He thought about distance. He could point the boat south and run until he ran out of fuel and then he’d bob atop the waters and drift wherever the sea took him. There were countries out there. Continents. If he sailed due south and never ran out of fuel he’d hit Venezuela but he would run out of fuel and he would run out of water and he’d sit down and close his eyes and that would be it until the gulls arrived.
He shook his head at his own thoughts. He wished life would open up and swallow him. He wanted to feel the sink of teeth and the slide of throat and the burn of stomach acid. He hung his head over the side and hollered. He hollered until his voice was hoarse and when he silenced he found himself wanting only to face his father as if the sea would unfold and allow Nicolas one more earthbound moment.
Jonah looked up at his GPS. He was nearing Stone Island. He squinted into the darkness and soon made out the familiar shape of the island then the cove and camp. He felt a revitalizing blast of air. He moored his boat and rowed to the small wharf. He dragged the skiff out of the water and flipped it onto its gunwales and tied the painter to a ringbolt. He didn’t have a flashlight and the spruce canopy stretched like cloud cover across the sky and blocked any possible light. Jonah held his hand in front of his face and couldn’t see it and the attempt made him dizzy. He made his way along the trail by feeling the packed snow with his feet and now and again he stumbled from the path and lost his footing in the deep sideline snow but each time he regained the trail.
When he reached the camp he carried an armload of wood inside with him. He fired the propane lights and their hum filled the room. The light was gentle and orange on the wooden walls. He took a deep breath of the cabin air. He made a fire in the wood stove and set a kettle of water to heat. He stepped outside and listened to the ocean as he pissed off the ledge.
He made coffee and sat with his back to the stove. His heart clicked as his eyes landed on his father’s rifle. The word revenge shot through his mind. He imagined himself taking that gun and loading it and aiming it at a living man. Settling the crosshairs and pulling the trigger. That was easy enough to imagine but what he could not imagine was what would come next. He looked down at his palms as if to judge their capabilities. He squinted his eyes closed and suddenly heard Osmond Randolph’s voice like the creaking of an old hull. Blood and blood alone. Jonah crimped his hands into fists and thought of his father in the pound and of throwing the bones overboard. With his eyes still closed he silenced Osmond’s voice and silenced his own mind and listened as waves stretched and broke across the entire coastline.
Nearly forty-eight hours since he’d buried his father at sea and still Bill couldn’t concentrate. He took a cold shower but his skin burned and his jaw clenched. He paced the house over and over again. He didn’t know where Erma Lee was but that wasn’t what bothered him. He drove east around the bay and up Osmond Randolph’s long arcing clamshell driveway.
Osmond opened the door and let him in. The house smelled like garlic and shrimp. Bill heard a television. Osmond led him down a hallway and through the kitchen to a bar where a football game played on the overhead screen. A bowl of whole shrimp and another of raw scallops sat on the bar top. Next to it was a small bowl of vinegar and olive oil with a halved head of roasted garlic in it.
Osmond dipped a scallop and ate it. He pushed the bowl of shrimp toward Bill. Noise from another television set came from a back room.
Go ahead, William. Eat.
Bill tore the head from a shrimp and peeled the shell and tail off and ate it.
Fresh today, Osmond said. Rough weather for being on the water, wouldn’t you say? I wouldn’t want to be out in this, would you?
Bill shook his head no and thought back to the waves breaking over the Leviathan and his father’s severed bones tumbling across the seafloor.
What happened to you, William? You’re hurt.
Bill rubbed his cheek where Jonah had hit him. I’m fine, he said. He took his glasses off and looked at the bent frames and put them back on.
Did you get in a fight?
I’m fine. I come to talk about this pound business.
Good. I’ve been thinking it over myself.
Bill ate a scallop without dipping it in the oil. He swallowed and said, Can I get a drink?
Osmond stood and hooked his long oily hair behind his ears. Of course. I’m sorry for not offering. He stooped down behind the bar and came up with a bottle of scotch. He set the bottle on the bar and took a glass from the shelf and put three ice cubes in it. He dumped the melted ice out of his own glass and refitted it with fresh ice. He filled each to the rim with scotch and left the bottle on the bar and slid the glass to Bill.
That’s a big buck, Bill said as the lobste
r in the tank turned in a circle.
He’s been here fourteen years. He was barely legal when I caught him. He shed every year for a while but now he hasn’t shed in three years. I’d thought he would shed again soon, but that might be as big as he can get in that tank. He’s limited, you see.
That might be so. Bill sipped his drink and watched the lobster. But I come to talk about the pound.
Good, said Osmond. Good. Have you lined up feed yet? We’re nearly out.
Yeah. I got some coming day after tomorrow.
How much?
Twenty ton of haddock racks in pickle.
Haddock racks in pickle.
That’s all I could get. They’ll winter on it fine.
I think so too, Osmond said. Good. Osmond tapped his glass on the marble bar top. Have you heard from the insurance company yet?
No, Bill said. I ain’t heard a thing.
Osmond held his finger in the air. One second, William.
Bill nodded and Osmond left the room and returned with a manila folder which he put in front of Bill. Take a look, he said.
While Bill opened the folder Osmond took his checkbook out and wrote a check. Bill flipped through the papers. What’s this? he finally said.
That’s called a key man policy. That’s the insurance policy your father and I had at the pound. You see, William, we’re incorporated. That means we have shares, half of which I own and half of which Nicolas owned.
Yeah, said Bill. I know that.
I can imagine, Osmond said. He hooked his hair behind his ear again and thought for a few seconds. There are a lot of changes when a loved one dies, especially when it is so sudden. I lost my daughter and I lost her mother but both were expected. Not that expectation offers consolation.
I heard, Bill said. He smelled Osmond’s breath like diesel exhaust.
But I do have a question for you, William, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way. You see, I have Julius and the two girls and that is all I have. This is a long life to live. I’m over seventy and only the Lord knows what lies ahead. My question is this, If you were in your father’s shoes, what would you have wanted to happen to the pound if one of us were to die? What sort of insurance would you want?
