Do it to them before they do it to you began to take on a whole new meaning as I watched Will move confidently and deftly through the store. Will was a mystery to me. I wondered if he would ever be real. If I would allow myself to let him be real.
I waited outside as Will made his way up to the counter. He looked as though he had found something that suited his musical tastes. I stood there wringing my hands together in nervous anticipation.
The wisp-like clouds were beginning to break, as the lukewarm northern sun started to just barely heat the sidewalk. Being outside and away from Will had given me the chance to gain some clarity. The dense hypnotic mist that surrounded him blinded me, and dulled most of my reasonable and logical inclinations. My silent longing became increasingly clearer. I would not allow myself to have physical entanglements, not allow myself to be a victim, not allow myself to be injured. “Just friends,” I whispered out loud. “Just friends.” I repeated as I pursed my lips together and nodded my head with certainty.
As I waited, I began to take stock of my ever-changing moods when it came to this boy. My desires seemed to swing erratically from one extreme to the next. I was determined to bury my salacious feelings and protect myself. I would be cool, not cold, just extremely cool. He would get the idea. He had to get it. There was no potential for us. After all he was a boy, a fickle boy (most boys are), and I would not open myself up to be hurt by his inevitable inconstancy.
Will breezed through the glass doors with what looked to be sheet music and a CD. With my resolve strengthened, my eyes narrowed as I prepared to mentally block Will from my senses. My neurons fired at light speed. Just friends...he’s fickle...he’s unreliable...after all he’s a boy. I could easily dismiss him if he were just a mere boy.
Will came toward me and gleamed. “Guess what I bought?”
I shrugged my shoulders, pulling them up around my ears in response.
He took out some sheet music and a CD as he spoke, “Have you ever listened to Nessun Dorma?”
I wrestled with my response. I had never heard of it, but didn’t want to appear stupid. If I said yes, he might ask questions that I didn’t know how to answer—thereby making me look not only stupid, but also a liar. I ended up just going with the truth, as I reminded myself that I didn’t care what this boy thought. I would have been truthful with a friend, and after all I had made the decision that Will was just a friend, so I replied, “No, Who’s Nessun Dorma—”
“Not who, but what,” he interrupted.
“What, then, is Nessun...whatever?”
“Dorma,” he interjected, slightly annoyed.
“Dor—ma—” I mocked him jokingly.
He brushed his hair back with a quick half-smirk, knowing he was about to educate me. “Nessun Dorma is an aria from the final act of the opera Turandot. It’s a very well-known song, you’ve probably heard it before in movie soundtracks. You just didn’t know it.”
“You listen to opera?” I asked in a state of disbelief. What guy listens to opera, I thought, slightly stunned.
“I’m gonna do this piece for a competition. You know, piano.”
“Oh yeah, I think I remember you telling me you played.” I was such a good liar. I knew from my first day at school that he played piano. That was the day in the cafeteria, where my fascination started.
Will continued. “It’s an opera that is about a man who falls in love at first sight with a beautiful, but cold princess. He has to answer three riddles correctly so he can marry her, but if he fails he will be beheaded.”
“Well, that’s just stupid,” I asserted, narrowing my eyes to form a vertical crease along the bridge of my nose.
“Stupid?” he asked, rubbing his forehead in disbelief.
“Yeah, come on. It’s so cliché. A man who is willing, at first sight no doubt, to die to win the beautiful but mean girl. Yeah, that’s original. You know, now that I think about it he probably only wants her because he can’t have her. I mean, come on, it’s the chase. This thrill-seeking guy falls in love with what he perceives is the impossible catch. I’m sure that if he ever caught her that she would become infinitely less interesting. Really, I feel kind of sorry for the princess. I mean, she has to be this unreal cold person just to protect herself from assholes like this.
“Besides, I think it’s so pedestrian that a man would be willing to die for beauty alone. Would he be willing to literally lose his head for an average-looking ice queen? I seriously doubt it. A nice girl slightly less beautiful. Puh-leese, he wouldn’t even cross the street to say hi, let alone have his head lopped off.”
“Wow, get carried away much?” He was amused by my little tirade on the male-female condition.
“Humph, sorry. I guess I kind of got a little worked up.” I smiled as I took the CD. “Can I listen to it?” I said, trying to sound less like a radical feminist.
“Yeah, let’s get outta here.” He took the sleeve of my jacket, and led me to the car.
We drove past the marina where they were stringing up lights on the docks. I looked past the lights and once again envied the people who were working diligently preparing their boats for the warmer weather.
“Turn here,” Will directed.
We pulled into a parking lot across from the marina. I felt my spine stiffen so that I was no longer hunched over the wheel.
“Where are we going?” I asked with a hint of anticipation as I pulled the emergency brake into position.
“Just be quiet. Do you always have to know everything?” he said as he jumped across the bushes that separated the parking lot from the road.
“Well, I’d like to know if you’re planning on, I don’t know—killing me!” I said as I followed him into the street, heading straight for the majestic line of sailboats, speedboats, and yachts (any boat larger than a speed boat I defined as a yacht).
“Shh,” he said, laying his finger over his mischievous smile.
We headed into the marina and started down a long narrow wooden boardwalk. The wood was splintered but sturdy. It made a distinctive clip clop sound as our feet struck the planks. My senses were heightened. I could smell the faint aroma of dead fish mixed with gasoline. I looked into the water and saw the oily currents moving in and out, taking the long tangled bits of plant life with it. The plants must have been anchored at the bottom because they swayed back and forth, but never broke. Each new ripple moved the tangled mass with a gentle fluidity up and then back, rhythmically, hypnotically.
Will stopped in front of what I can only describe as a cross between a yacht and a sailboat. I’d only seen these boats from far away, and couldn’t seem to comprehend the enormity of it. It was deep navy blue on the bottom half of the boat. The lower portion of the boat segued into top part, which was a blinding white, and lined with tiny rectangular windows. Above the small rectangles, which I assumed was where people slept, were larger windows that encased the nautical hub of the beast. Up toward the front of the boat sprang up a solid beam surrounded by what seemed to be extraneous cables that shot practically to the stars. There was a thick black cable that sprouted directly off the top of the massive mast, and connected back down to the deck of the boat. It made a perfect right triangle. I felt the need to put my math skills to use, to figure out the hypotenuse of the right triangle. It occurred to me that it was strange to be thinking about math at this very moment. However, thinking about something else helped to calm my nerves, and distracted me from the enormity of this boat. I’d always wanted to see one of these grand fixtures up close, and now it looked as though I was about to, I was so excited I felt the need to calm myself down with math. I know I’m totally weird.
Toward the back of the boat, a smaller mast surrounded by even smaller silver cables sprang up from the deck. There were no sails attached, and I wondered how they would look unfurled and filled with air.
Will took a leap from the dock to the massive boat.
“Is—is this yours?” I questioned as I looked at the water that gushed b
etween the boat and the dock.
“No, it’s my—it was my dad’s,” he said as he held out his hand, inviting me to make the leap.
“Was?” I inquired as I pushed off from the dock and landed on the boat.
“My dad died, a couple of years ago,” he stated without much emotion.
“Oh, I—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I never really even knew him. He left my mom when I was three. Well, that’s my mom’s story anyway. He couldn’t handle having a family, or something. He left and then bought this thing,” he said, pointing to the boat. “He lived somewhere in Florida. I guess he lived on this thing, and just sailed up and down the coast from town to town. He lived on a damn boat. Can you believe that?”
Will paused for a second, and I assumed he was contemplating renegade life off the Florida coast. “Anyway, I got a letter a couple of years ago from a lawyer. The old man died and left me this boat, as if it made up for never having a dad. I mean really, I think it’s kinda ironic—a bum that lives on a boat has a lawyer and a will. I guess he wanted to make sure the boat was taken care of. I should light the damn thing on fire and toast marshmallows.”
“You could toast a lot of marshmallows if you set this thing off,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
He curled his lips and pressed them together as if he were imagining the enormous bonfire that the vessel would create. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t do that. Plus it’s kind of a cool boat. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, it’s cool,” I said with a hint of reserved excitement. “So do you know how to sail this thing?”
Will laughed as he eyed the massive boat. “Nope, I just let it sit here, and I clean it a lot. That’s pretty much it. It’s a nice place to go and think. Sometimes I spend the night, but no more than one or two nights. I’m afraid that if I stay too long that I’d be just like my father. I’m not quite sure if loser comes with the DNA. I don’t want to chance it anyway.
“Really, all I know about this boat is that it’s a forty-seven foot Gulfstar Sailmaster. I think it was built in 1979.” He walked across the deck and started down the narrow stairs into the cabin. “Come on,” he said, pulling the CD out of the bag. I followed blindly behind him, excited to see the cabin. Would it look like I’d always imagined, mahogany detailing and elegant nautical lines like the interiors I’d seen in the movies?
Nineteen-seventy-nine should have been the first tip off. When I descended the narrow stairs into the cabin it felt cramped and dark. The woodwork covered every inch of the cabin, which consisted of I guess what you would call a galley with a table and a small kitchen. There was also a desk area for a computer with a large bookshelf filled with literature. I looked over the books and pulled out “The Perfect Storm.” Not the best read on a boat, I thought as I snickered under my breath. Behind the main room there was a small bedroom that fit a double bed, and a 3/4 bath. At least there was a sink, shower, and toilet. I wouldn’t have to pee in a bucket, which eased my mind immediately. I tended to have to go obsessively to the bathroom when I knew one wasn’t available. The super-sized boat seemed less romantic than I’d envisioned. I hated being disappointed; it seemed inevitable though.
Will leaned across my body and slipped the CD Nessun Dorma into the player, while I sat on the edge of the bench. The music filled the small cabin. The luxurious feast of sound poured into my consciousness. It swelled then retreated like a sonorous wave brushing across all of my senses. It left me full and then retreated, leaving me empty. It was beautiful. The singer’s voice was clear and eerie; I couldn’t help but imagine the story behind the music. It felt like a knife cutting through my very essence, something so impressive, yet the story behind it so cruel.
As we listened to the aria, I replayed in my head Will’s explanation of the opera. The princess, afraid to be won, possessed, loved, so much so in fact that she cruelly decreed to her subjects that no one shall sleep until the suitor’s name is discovered. If her subjects failed, they would be killed. I felt an odd connection with the cold princess. I felt like I understood that protecting one’s very heart is paramount, and I was sympathetic to the lengths a wounded spirit will go to in order to assure self-preservation.
“Do you like it?” he said as he leaned his svelte frame in my direction, his head cocked to one side as if it were a loaded weapon ready to fire. “I’m going to play it for a competition coming up next year.”
I eased myself back to put more space between our bodies. “Yeah, I think it’s really...awesome.” I struggled to find the right words to describe how moving it truly was, but the best I could come up with was awesome. Ugh!
Will leaned across my rigid body and ejected the CD. “Yeah, I’ll need to start practicing it pretty soon to have it ready for competition.”
“When is the competition?” I asked as I got up and started to peruse the area, inspecting the detailed woodwork that had escaped my attention initially.
“In September. Maybe you could come. You know, lend moral support.”
“Sure,” I said with little variation in my tone, knowing that I wasn’t planning on being here much past the summer.
Will moved behind me. His shadowy presence was electric. My resolve seemed to strengthen, though, from the almost kiss at Lucy’s house. I would not give in to this boy. I would not allow him to possess me. I would not allow his seductive guyness trap me in a fit of irrational actions and thoughts.
“So, how’d you end up here in the Great White North?” he asked as he took a seat casually at the table, rifling through the stacks of CDs that littered the space.
I took a seat across from him and fumbled through the mess as I tried to craft my response. “I moved in with my aunt. My mom is away—away on business.”
“Wow, it must be nice to travel. What does she do?” he innocently inquired.
“Distribution,” I said as I boiled down her pusher status to that of a distributor, which wasn’t a lie. The irony didn’t escape me, and I was rather proud of my deceit. Very clever, I thought.
“How long are you going to be here?” His questions were starting to annoy me. I just couldn’t give him the honest answers he most likely wanted to hear, the answers that somewhere in my heart, I wanted to give.
The atmosphere wasn’t as charged as it had been at Lucy’s. I was happy that I’d succeeded in neutralizing the intense attraction that had overwhelmed me before. He obviously and accurately had picked up on my signals. This was a good thing, I mused. I (like Princess Turandot) would not allow a smitten suitor to win.
I interrupted my own train of thought when I glanced over at the clock—three o’clock. Crap.
“I’ve gotta go. I have to get over to Lucy’s by three-thirty.” I hurried as I grabbed my bag and slung it on my shoulder. “Do you need a ride back to school to get your car?” I asked with one foot out of the door.
“No, I didn’t drive to school today. I think I’m going to stay here awhile and clean,” he said with his mouth twisted to the side, trying not to smile.
“Yeah, you might want to clean this dump,” I said jokingly, as the cabin was already hospital-grade clean.
“Later,” he said, his long spidery fingers cutting through the air as he waved goodbye.
“Later,” I said, giving a quick closed-finger wave.
I leapt from the boat to the dock, landing on unsure feet. I walked at a quickened pace across the street and over to the parking lot where I’d left the Volkswagen. I was moving in a manner that was just short of a run. My legs were throbbing from the quickly paced strides. My muscles in my thighs burned, and were begging to break free into a run. I kept the pace tight and quick without letting it progress.
As I unlocked the driver’s side door, I looked back across the street at the mammoth sailboat. Now that the mystery was gone the boats seemed smaller almost average. Maybe that's how it is with the things we think we want. They seem grand and impressive, but then when we get them they become nothing more than another pa
rt of our ordinary average lives.
I arrived at Lilah’s around three twenty-five. Just made it, whew! As I turned the ignition off, the white van pulled into the driveway. Sherri was jovial as she exited the van and waved in my direction. I ran across the yard, and met the van.
“Cuttin’ it close, aren’t ya?” Sherri noted as she started the mechanism to begin the steel arm that lowered Lilah’s wheel chair to the ground.
“Yeah, school stuff, ya know how it is,” I responded as I jumped over to meet the descending steel arm. “I got this.” I signaled by taking the wheelchair and starting up the ramp.
“Girl, you know you changed since when you first met this van.” Sherri smiled, and lifted her sturdy frame back into the van. “You ain’t scared of that bathroom thang, are ya?” she hollered, leaning out the window as she backed out of the driveway.
“I got that too,” I hollered back with a smile.
I’d prepared Lilah her usual snack and debated with myself as to how to spend the rest of the afternoon. I stepped outside to check the weather. The sun was obscured by a diaphanous veil of clouds that still allowed the light to penetrate the mist and hit the ground in bits and pieces. The ground was still warm, but now the breeze had a brisk harshness that burned my nostrils and lungs. I headed back into the house as Lilah finished her snack, looked through the narrow window from Lucy’s kitchen and noticed Audrey’s wild flowers. They were in dire need of some attention. I estimated that it was still pleasant enough to bring Lilah outside for the remainder of the afternoon, and Audrey’s wild flowers could be an afternoon project to pass the time instead of watching the same mind-numbing video, again.
The Idyllic Chaos of My So-Called Life Page 13
