by Jon Keller
Come the spring of the year, Jonah finally said with a grin, I’m taking myself clamming.
Her look lost its severity and her skin looked like ivory in the starlight. No you aren’t either, Jonah. You’ll keep saying that and saying that, then my dad and Bill will talk you into lobster fishing again. Just like always.
The hell they will. But if they do, I’m thinking I might take the Cinderella. I’m starting to like the sound of it. Jonah motioned to the mouth of the cove. I got her here now.
You have the Cinderella?
Jonah nodded.
Why’d your dad even name it that? I always wondered.
A smile spread across Jonah’s face. He never told me, but Bill said that’s what he used to call Mom. I don’t know.
I like it, Charlotte said. It’s sweet.
Yeah. Well I’m going to leave the Jennifer right where she is. Right in the belly of this godfucked ocean. I think the old man might like having her down there. It’ll be his gravestone.
Underwater? With his wife’s name on it, Jonah?
It does seem so.
Charlotte drew in a deep breath. She brushed her hand over Jonah’s then put it back in her pocket. I was so mad at my dad, Jonah. But when I was driving around today, I all of a sudden felt sorry for him. He always seemed so big and now he doesn’t.
Jonah listened but the words were far off. The ocean echoed in his head and a remote piece of his father echoed in his head. As he listened the echoes merged and took shape as a truth that Jonah felt he could almost touch. He looked out at the water that covered the Jennifer then out to the mouth where he’d left the Cinderella at anchor.
This is it, he said. His voice carried a force he didn’t recognize.
This is what, Jonah?
Jonah stared a while at the silver ocean. Never mind, he finally said. Just that I’m leaving the Jennifer right there on bottom. Jonah nodded his head as he spoke. I think the old man will like having her down there with him.
He turned and opened the door and stepped inside. He lit the candle and the flame cast an orange shadowed glow across the spruce walls. He breathed in heavily through his nostrils.
Charlotte moved in behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. He turned and held the candle shielded by his palms. Her chin and nose and forehead gleamed in the soft light. She put her hand on his cheek. I’m sorry, she said. I’m so sorry.
They stared at each other through the flame.
Charlotte sucked in her cheeks.
Jonah looked at the window and his reflection still flicked on the glass. Waves rolled against the ledges as the moon pulled against the Atlantic. Eventually Jonah said, I’m hungry. You hungry?
No.
I’ll make pancakes. You want pancakes?
No.
I got syrup. I know you love that.
She smiled and her smile turned into a yawn and her yawn turned into a stretch. No, she said.
Jonah lit a lantern and stoked the fire. As the fire grew he took a box of pancake batter from the cupboard. He mixed the batter and set a griddle on the stove. Charlotte stood with her back to the fire and held her hands behind her and her chin was over her shoulder as she watched Jonah. When the pancakes were finished he gave her a plateful and she thanked him. They ate in silence and when they were finished Jonah put more wood on the fire. They sat on the small couch together with just the light of the candle burning. Soon Charlotte fell asleep and her head slid to the side and landed on Jonah’s shoulder. He didn’t move. He sat there listening to her breath as he thought about Osmond Randolph.
Jason Jackson left the city early in the morning. Turtle rode with him and they drove a small Japanese car and they drove in silence along the broken coastline. Turtle sat cross-legged and held a small handbag in her lap.
They went first to the harbor. Jason pulled onto the wharf. The wind blew hard from the north and stretched the fleet’s mooring lines. Ice hung from the bridles and hulls and riggings. Jason spotted Julius’s new boat and pointed it out to Turtle.
I’d like to see that little prick come to Honolulu, she said.
Settle down, Jason said.
He looked out to Ram’s Head and nodded then backed off the wharf and drove to the pound. The car dragged its undercarriage over the rocks and snow and frozen ruts but Jason didn’t seem to notice. They stood at the edge of the pound with the air at their backs as Jason surveyed the ice and the causeway and the pound house and the dam. He turned and faced the east where the tidal stream eased through the frozen marsh grass. Beside the marsh stood the piles of Nicolas’s traps.
They drove to Osmond’s house. Osmond was in the bar when they arrived. Jason held two bottles of sake tucked in his elbow and he gave them to Osmond.
Where’s your boy Julius?
He’ll be here.
What happened to your face?
I had a run-in, that is all.
Jason grunted. What does Julius think of things?
He’s young, said Osmond. He thinks his boat is the only thing he needs in this world.
He doesn’t understand connection, Jason said. But he is quite a lad. Gwen spoke very highly of him.
Osmond nodded.
Turtle’s never been this far north, Jason said. What do you think of the north, Turtle?
It’s a dump.
Show Osmond your new jacket.
Turtle stood and turned around. Her jacket was glittering red nylon and on the back was the silhouette of a woman on a motorcycle with her hair trailing in the wind and the jacket said Hell’s Bitches.
Daniel found that at a vintage clothing place.
You see that? Turtle asked Osmond.
I see, said Osmond.
I know, she said.
Jason shook his head. What are your plans, Osmond? If Julius isn’t interested in our ideas, what are your plans?
He’ll be interested. This is for him.
I understand that. You don’t want him to grow up like his father. I didn’t want to grow up like my father either because he beat the shit out of me but that’s not the point.
Julius respects his father.
Jason turned to Turtle and whispered something into her ear and she said, Fuck off, Big Man.
We agreed, he said.
That was before I knew this was the fucking Arctic Circle up here. I’ll freeze to death.
Turn the car on.
Fucker, she said. I’ll be out there thinking of all the shit you owe me for all this shit you pull.
She walked out the door.
Jason shook his head again. He looked out the window and waited until he heard the car door shut. Then he spread his hands on the marble bar top and faced Osmond. Tell me this—How did Nicolas Graves die?
Are you asking me something in particular?
Jason laughed and wiped his hand along his black and white beard. Yes I am, yes I am. I’m asking you exactly what I asked you.
Be careful, Jason, Osmond said. He tucked his hair behind his ear as he watched Jason.
I am careful. I’m careful about investing a lot of money in a partnership with someone I don’t trust.
Osmond’s face gave away no emotion but his eyes were small and dark and he spoke more quickly than usual. And what do you base this lack of faith on?
Jason swirled his hand around the bar top. No, no, Osmond. I’ll put it this way. I trust my Japanese friend because he is a ruthless bastard. To him, I am a means to an end. Just like I am to you and you are to me. I trust him because that is on the table. I fuck him over and he sends some little ninja slob to slice my throat. What I don’t trust is your boy Julius. I don’t trust what motivates him because it’s not money and it’s not pussy. You tell me what it is, Osmond, because it’s not your God either.
Osmond watched the ocean froth white outside his windows. He watched his boat buck in the chop. He thought about Chimney and knew that to be the only thing in the world which motivated Julius in a sheer and lucid way and as he thought Jason sp
oke.
His father, Chimney, isn’t it? That was Gwen’s take as well. She’s a quick one, Osmond. She understands. I don’t keep her around for her looks.
Osmond didn’t know what to say. He felt heat rise in his face and it wasn’t a feeling he was used to.
I don’t trust him because I believe that when Chimney is released Julius will be at his command. And even before then. I am not going to invest my money in an endeavor with someone whose motivations are so dubious.
That’s enough, Osmond said but his voice was quiet.
Do you understand me? Jason said.
They heard Julius’s truck come down the driveway and stop. Jason nodded.
I understand you, Osmond said. And you must understand me. Nicolas was my friend and that is all I will say.
I know he was, Jason said. He was a good man. And Julius killed him, is that right?
No, said Osmond but his voice did not listen to him as he told it to speak surely. No, he said again and again he remembered Julius’s voice that he had shut from his mind and the voice said, They think it was me, and finally like a gut-shot Osmond understood something he should have understood long ago. This boy who he had been trying to save for so long was now trying to save him and the realization left Osmond so breathless and so shocked by regret that he had to brace his physical structure in order to carry on.
No? I think so, Jason said as the door opened and Julius came in with his broken lips and bruised neck. Jason turned and nodded. Julius, he said.
Julius went behind the bar and opened a can of cola. He held the can away from his lips as he drank. Osmond watched him and wanted to lift him into his arms and run and never stop.
Tell me a story, Julius, Jason said.
I don’t tell stories. I say it like it is and that’s that. Julius peered out the window. Why’s Turtle in the car?
She likes it, Jason said.
She’ll freeze. I better go get her.
No you won’t, Osmond said.
Give her a moment, Jason said. She’s got a new jacket. Right now I want to hear your story.
Julius’s eyes flicked to Osmond. Osmond watched the lobster in the tank. He’s wondering about Nicolas, Osmond said. His voice was flat.
He’s dead, said Julius.
I understand that.
What do you care anyhow?
I don’t care. I wonder. That is what one does when one is in business. You wonder about the men you do business with. You wonder until you know.
And you wonder about me, Julius said to Jason but faced his grandfather.
Yes. And so does your grandfather.
Jason, Osmond said but that was all and he felt Julius’s betrayed eyes on him and a feeling of deep and absolute exhaustion spread through him and if in that moment he could have closed his eyes and never opened them again he would have done so without hesitation.
Jason leaned back and laughed. Go get Turtle, Julius, would you please? Tell her to come in here before she freezes to death. It’s cold out there. And ask her to bring the food with her.
When Julius went out Osmond poured a glass of scotch and tipped it back and looked at Jason and said, Don’t fuck with us, Jason. I know you are big and I know you have friends and that is good and that is fine but you shall not interrupt my family life.
Business is family, Osmond. Settle down.
The vertical lines on Osmond’s face were deep and lined with glistening sweat like flooded irrigation ditches. He could smell his own sweat like pesticide and it repelled him.
Julius came back followed by Turtle. She had a white cardboard box of sushi with her. She smiled and nodded at Jason then set the box on the bar and opened it. Jason plucked two out and swallowed them one at a time.
Big eye from Hawaii, he said. Caught two days ago. Goddamned Filipino crews down there pay attention. It’s all quality.
Jason slid a glass of sake to Turtle and she drank it down in one gulp and said, Are you boys done with your little private talk? Fuck me waiting in the car.
We’re here to come to an understanding, Jason said.
Understanding of what? Julius said.
Of you. First off, I’d like to know what happened to your face.
None of your business.
Virgil and the boys, Osmond said.
Virgil, said Jason. Virgil Alley did that? What for?
Caught me fucking his daughter is why. Julius glanced at Turtle but she was looking at the lobster in the tank.
Jason grinned and Osmond leaned over and whispered into Julius’s ear, Please watch yourself here and now, Julius. Please do it for me.
I ain’t got to watch nothing, Julius said. His voice was loud.
Was this fucking similar to what you did to my friend Gwen?
Julius sipped his cola.
They had a disagreement over traps. Territory, Osmond said and wished he hadn’t spoken. He sat down and he looked at the bar then at his grandson then at his own palms. He tasted scotch. He looked at Jason sitting quietly in his white lab coat. Jason looked big and oafish but he was peeling back the layers that covered Julius and seeing Julius so exposed had exposed him as well and within that exposure Osmond saw so incredibly clearly that he had stepped to the side as his grandson Julius Wesley took his fall.
Jason leaned over and spoke to Turtle. She nodded and said, I think so too.
Jason turned back to Julius.
Julius put his empty cola can on the bar. Me and my girlfriend are none of your business.
That’s right. I don’t care about you and your girlfriend. I do care about you and Gwen, but we’ll deal with that one later.
Osmond stared at a thin slice of tuna. He couldn’t look at Julius.
Julius watched his grandfather then said, Fuck it, and walked out from behind the bar and began out the door but Jason held a hand up to stop him.
I’ll walk you out, Jason said. He rose and put his hand between Julius’s shoulder blades and gently pushed Julius toward the door. Osmond started to say something but his jaw felt locked and his throat too dry. Turtle stood before him staring at him with eyes that made him want to leave his own home.
Soon Jason returned. He sat at the bar and finished the bottle of sake. His neck gleamed with sweat. He watched the big lobster and Osmond watched him and on Jason’s white lab coat Osmond saw a smear of wet blood that he could not take his eyes from. No one spoke and it was almost ten more minutes before they heard Julius’s truck start and spin around and run down the long clamshell driveway. Osmond pictured the boy in the truck now beaten once again and he wished he could chase Julius down and hold him in his arms and tell him that someday soon they would start over.
Go, said Osmond.
Maybe we’ll talk later.
No. Go away from here.
Jason stood. He slid the box of sushi toward Osmond. He took Turtle by the hand and left.
Osmond sat at the bar and listened as Jason’s small car started and drove away. He looked around the empty room. His gaze settled on Julius’s empty cola can. Something was perched atop the can and Osmond stood and took two steps and there atop the can sat a single gray tooth. Osmond lifted it into the air. He knew it was Nicolas’s and he understood it to be the last words of a hangman so without pause he turned and dropped the tooth into the lobster tank.
All that remained was the ocean.
Hours before daylight. Jonah alone walked the dark woods to Nicolas’s wharf. He paused at the edge of the trees. He lit a cigarette and his unshaven face flashed orange against the night. Before him spread the small cove shot silver from the moon. The wharf like a thumb jutted toward Stone Island with planks heavy and glistening with frost. With one hand he climbed the ladder down to the float and with his other he held his father’s rifle.
His skiff was upside down on the float and caked in ice. He slapped at the ice with a single palm and the cakes broke off in soft sheets that slid to the float planks and crumbled. He reached beneath the gunwale and righted the
skiff then slid it into the water. Tails of kelp swished and frames of ice glowed and the small waves shifted white then silver then gray as the water tilted and swung beneath the sky.
He braced the rifle against the stern and fitted the oarlocks into their sockets then the oars into their locks. He spun the skiff and rowed stern-first to the mouth of the cove. The Cinderella lay at anchor with the beggar gull perched on the bow. The skiff banged against the fiberglass as Jonah climbed aboard. He opened the baitbox and tossed a herring to the gull and watched as the gull batted its wings then swallowed the fish in a single choking gulp. He fired the engine and tied the skiff’s painter off to the anchor rode. The big diesel grumbled in the cold air then settled into its easy throaty rhythm.
Jonah throttled south to open sea. Water sprayed from the chines. Wake tumbled like snow from a plow blade. Two Penny flashed and Drown Boy revolved and beyond both and beyond the bright shining moon lay Orion perched in the sky as if guarding the holds of the sea with bow and arrow and Jonah wished for such simple weaponry.
The sea was plate steel. An archipelago of islands like thrown stones spread to the south and to the east the bridge with its archway of lights led to the village on Mason’s Island. Jonah ran the Cinderella at half throttle. The rifle was on the bulkhead before him and he nested his left hand atop it. He rounded the point that sheltered Osmond Randolph’s home. A single light in the end window cast a smooth glow on the surrounding snowpack. Jagged points of spruce and fir pressed the skyline. Osmond’s boat floated a black shadow atop the water and beyond the boat the small wharf stood silhouetted against the granite ledges.
Jonah stopped less than a hundred yards off. He took three cartridges from his pocket and fitted them into the magazine. He chambered one. The working of the bolt clicked against the sound of the diesel. He held the rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope at Osmond’s home. In the crosshairs he saw a bedside lamp. He pictured Osmond reading beside it then pictured the bulb shattering.
With the boat in neutral and the rifle butt braced on his hip he slammed the throttle wide open for a breath. The engine howled and ripped. He watched. Sweat beaded in his armpits and rolled down his ribs. He leaned against the wheelhouse wall and tried to sight on the lamp as the boat rose and fell with the movements of the water. He reached down with one hand and pumped the throttle again and the noise was like a hole punched in the nighttime. A flaw of wind pushed him toward shore so he spun a quick circle to keep the boat off the rocks and just then he saw Osmond glide like a bird past the window.
