by Natasha Boyd
“A boat?”
“He didn’t tell you?” she asked with zero guile, but still I hated her for the knowledge she possessed. “He has a little sailboat. Keeps it up on Bull River. Finally bought it last fall, but the motor was having trouble, so instead of winterizing, he put it in the shop to get fixed up.”
“Oh,” I said. “Oh. Okay.”
Marjoe took that moment to head out of her office. She looked like hell.
“She had some bad news about Pete,” Bethany whispered under her breath, her lips barely moving.
I stepped forward. “Hi, Marjoe.”
She swiped at her face and fluffed her hair. “Oh hi, hon. God, I must look like a skinned squirrel.”
I grimaced. “Well, you’ve looked better, but I wouldn’t go that far.”
Bethany glared at me, but Marjoe barked a laugh. “You’re a breath of fresh air. Just ain’t no guessin’ with you is there?”
I shrugged. “Well, are you okay?”
“Nope, I’m not. Pete has lung cancer. Lung Cancer! Can you believe that big old shit didn’t tell me?” She flicked a hand out. “And damned if I can stop being a sniveling idiot about it. Not sure if I’m more pissed at myself or him. What are you doing here anyway? Thought you were still recovering?”
“I brought some cake for Big Jake and made some cupcakes for you.” I bit my lip. “To say… thanks.”
“That was sweet of you honey. But thanks for what?”
“Just, giving me a chance I guess. And also…” I glanced at Bethany, who’d moved back to get the condiment baskets, and dropped my voice. “Uh, could I speak with you privately?”
Marjoe didn’t miss a beat. She turned and headed back to her office and motioned with her chin for me to follow. I scuttled up and followed her into the fluorescent room. It had white walls and an acoustic style ceiling with water stains and a chipped wood veneer desk that was basically swimming in haphazard paperwork. It reeked of fresh and old smoke.
Marjoe motioned to the office chair on the other side of her desk and went around to her side, rummaging in the breast pocket of her denim shirt for something. A lighter. Then she flipped open a packet of menthol cigarettes and pulled one out, offering me the pack. I shook my head.
“Good. That’s good. I gotta…” her voice collapsed into a squeak, then she cleared her throat, her eyes tearing up. “I gotta give it up.” She stuffed the cigarette back in the box and threw the whole lot into the metal trash can in the corner. It dinged, loudly. “For Pete, you know. Least I can do. So, what can I do you for? How you feelin’?”
“Good, I’m good. Tired, but getting there.”
“Well, we had a few customers down with it, but let’s hope it doesn’t continue its rounds. All this almost hot then cold again weather ain’t helpin’.” She shook her head, then pulled out a small compact from her drawer and wiped under her eyes. “I hope Tommy doesn’t get it. Dang, I look terrible.”
“I’m really sorry to hear about Pete. I had no idea. Tommy didn’t mention it to me.”
“You think Tommy knew?” Her eyes grew round and pinned me.
“No, no. I have no idea. He barely talks to me anyway.”
Marjoe studied me while she snapped her compact closed and slid it into the drawer. “Y’all haven’t talked much since you been here?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, more lately. We’re becoming friends, I guess. Not that we weren’t,” I hastened to add. “It, it was just I’m not used to, uh, I’m not good at just being…” I trailed off not really knowing how to explain myself.
“You haven’t had many friendships, is what you’re saying?”
“I guess.” I gave a nervous laugh and wiped my damp palms on my jeans. “That sounds weird. I mean, I’m used to being on my own. Counting on myself. It’s been strange to have someone else there who…”
“Cares about you?”
“No. Well, yes, someone I should be accountable to.”
“Only if they earn it.”
“What?”
“You should only be accountable to people who you care to be accountable to. And to earn that you’d have to hold them in high regard, and they’d have to hold you likewise. I’d say Tommy’s a good person to be accountable to.”
“Well,” I said, flushing as my memory decided to serve up my ridiculous seduction attempt. “I’m not sure he holds me in high regard. But he has been caring.”
Marjoe played with the lighter, then pulled open her desk drawer absently before glancing at the trash can. She did it all without really leaving our conversation. “How much has Tommy told you about why he came to the island?”
“Nothing.” I sat back. “Well, I guess I never asked.” How self-absorbed did I have to be to never ask him where he grew up, if he came here, why he came here?
“Hmm, well. First lesson in friendship is it goes two ways. Not that it did me any good. Did Pete see fit to tell me he was fixin’ to die?” She growled the last word. “Nope. No way. Not me. I mean, why would he? I only just adore the man and been keepin’ his bed warm the last eleven years. Wouldn’t even make an honest woman out of me.” She slapped her hand on the desk. “But anyway, Pete and me’s a different relationship, but it’s the same with friendship and family, you gotta just ask sometimes. Ain’t nobody a mind-reader.” Her eyes grew watery again. “I shoulda asked him. I knew he wasn’t feeling good. I had a feelin’. Just shoulda asked him point blank, ‘Are you sick?’” She shook her head.
“I’m so sorry, Marjoe.”
She sniffed and waved her hand. “Men. So, honey, how can I help you?”
“I’m sorry I got the flu, and I’ll make up my hours if I need to, but actually I was going to ask you about how you pay us.”
“Oh, by check.”
“Even Big Jake and the boys?” Surely they didn’t leave the island to visit a bank.
“Well, Big Jake was in the Marine Corps, Vietnam, so he’s a member of the credit union. Only bank on the island.”
“So that’s what I wanted to ask you.” I clasped my fingers together to keep them from fidgeting. “I don’t have a bank account.”
“Well that’s no problem. You can set one up easily in Savannah or over on Hilton Head Island.”
“I can’t. I, uh, need a social security number to do that. And I…”
“You’re not an illegal are you?” Her eyes grew wide with amusement. “You look and sound American to me.”
I gave a small answering smile. “It’s not that.” I’d agonized since I started about whether to just say I didn’t have my social with me and couldn’t prove it, or to tell the truth and hope she understood. In fact, I even had Abby’s driver’s license, albeit expired, so I could totally fake it, but that would require Marjoe paying Abigail Baines—deceased. Definitely not.
“I have one. It’s mine,” I clarified and swallowed what felt like a lump of leather. “I… I just can’t use it.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows pinched together, forming a vertical canyon in her already wrinkled forehead. “I see.” And, I could tell she did.
I DROPPED MY eyes to my lap. I shouldn’t have come to speak to Marjoe. This was ludicrous. “Maybe you could just pay Tom?” I asked quietly, in a last ditch attempt to keep the job. I mean, since I’d started, I’d technically missed a third of my shifts and was now an Internal Revenue Service headache for her. Not to mention, she’d already told me she didn’t really need me and was just doing it as a favor to Tom.
“What? No way. Would never do such a thing.” She shook her head. There went my last hope. “A girl needs her own income.” Her eyes got fierce. “Don’t you ever let me hear you think a man’s gonna take care of you, okay? I won’t hear it. I don’t care how good you think the guy is. If you don’t have a way to leave, then you’ll always be trapped. Doin’ things you don’t wanna do. You got that? I learned that bitch of a lesson way too early.” She huffed. “I’m droppin’ pearls here¸ you catchin’ em?”
“Y
es… yes, Ma’am.” I suddenly felt compelled to address her with utmost respect.
“I ain’t givin’ Tommy your paycheck, and just lookin’ at you, I can tell you ain’t gonna tell me why you’re hidin’. But you’ve been fairly upfront, and honey, that’s good enough for me. We look after our own here on this island. I’ll pay you cash. And if you ever need to tell me anything, I’ve heard just about everything.”
I nodded, too moved to speak.
“Did Jake like your cake?” she asked.
I nodded again. “They put the last three slices up for sale though.”
“Then they love it. You want to practice a bit more then sell me some for the tourists come summer?”
“Yes,” I burst out before I could think it over.
Marjoe chuckled her husky laugh, then wound her bleached blonde hair up into a knot at the back of her head and stuck a pencil in it.
“I mean, yes. That would be awesome. Thank you.”
“Great. I gotta get back to work. See you for your Tuesday shift?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Marge is fine.”
“Yes, Marge. Thank you.”
“You too skittish for hugs?”
“Uh… um.”
“Come ’ere.” She smiled and pulled me into to her soft, pillowy chest for an embrace.
I stood in it stiffly, and before I could even begin to convince myself this was all right and I could probably hug her back, she let go. “See you later, sweetie,” she said and swept out the door.
At least I’d made her forget her tears for a moment.
I headed out. “Bye, Bethany,” I called magnanimously.
“Bye, see you tomorrow. I’m going to come by and make y’all dinner. Just spoke with Tommy.”
“Oh. Oh good.” I smiled with massive effort and gave her a jaunty wave.
AS I HEADED back across the interior of the island in the twilight, I was struck by the eerie stillness of the forest around me. Usually alive at night with the kind of sounds that could run as a soundtrack to a horror movie, it was bizarrely still.
Perhaps I couldn’t hear the forest waking up for the night over the whine and buzz of the cart, or the sound of the cart made all the creatures freeze until I passed.
The trees faded in and out of high density, sometimes letting you see past their trunks to the black, still, swampy grounds within that waited, dark and oozing, ready to let out the horde of reptiles come spring. Ugly frogs, hungry alligators, and some of the most poisonous snakes known to man.
I shuddered.
Parking the cart in its sanctioned spot, I was filled with relief when I saw that the bucket of haint paint had been moved out to the middle of the porch and the door behind the screen stood slightly ajar. Tom must have decided to come back tonight. Hopefully we could finally get the paint on the shutters. I knew it was silly superstition, but honestly even just the idea of it made me feel better and that had to be worth something.
Tom was probably inside eating the rest of the cupcakes already. “Hey,” I called and trotted up the steps. I couldn’t help the grin stretching across my face. “You better save some for me.”
The kitchen was empty and still. Everything exactly the same as how I left it, mixing bowls in the sink and the container of cupcakes on the table. “Tom?” I called out and got no response. “Tom?”
I went back out to the porch and called outside. Maybe he’d headed back in the Bloody Point direction where Pete usually dropped him. Shit, I should probably clean up the kitchen. I’d been hoping to do that before he got back anyway.
I hung up my jacket and rolled up the sleeves on my black T-shirt, then scrubbed the kitchen, top to bottom, and put everything away. While I was at it, I reorganized the pantry.
I flicked the lamps on and pulled out my phone. It was almost fully dark outside. Maybe he needed a ride.
Hey, where are you?
It was chilly. Especially since he’d left the door ajar earlier. I thought about laying a fire, but Tom was way better at it, so I’d wait. I never made a fire when he was gone, I was too scared of falling asleep with it still going.
My phone beeped.
Walking into the Pirates House to meet a friend from class.
There’s a Pirates House here? How cool! Why?
Why what?
Why are you going to a Pirates House at nighttime?
You’re funny. Asking myself the same. It’s an overpriced tourist trap. I’ll show it to you when you come here.
Come here? I halted midway across the room where I was heading to my bedroom to get a sweater. A jolt of uneasiness flipped my stomach. Why was I suddenly feeling so off?
Um, are you in Savannah?
Yes???
Oh. Shit. My hands trembled as I suddenly warred with my overactive imagination. Someone had been in the cottage. My eyes and my nose stung as my chest constricted, forcing my body to acknowledge my fear.
No, there had to be a rational explanation. Had I left the door open? It was entirely feasible since I was carrying all those containers. Maybe it didn’t latch properly. But dread continued snaking through my body. I just couldn’t be sure.
I took a deep breath, conscious of my spiking pulse, and then mashed my lips tight between my teeth. I looked around me, the comforting cottage in the fading light now starting to show its shadowy corners.
Liv?
With one hand gripping the phone so tight it was in danger of shattering, and the other shaking badly, I tried to think of a non-alarmist response.
Thought you had come back, sorry.
No, am here, but why? Are you okay?
My breathing was coming too fast as I kept glancing around me, now turning around in a continuous circle.
I don’t know.
I winced as I gave in to the need for his help. I’d just tell him and he’d tell me I was crazy. It would all be fine.
I think I’m imagining things. Door was open when I got back from Mama’s and Jake’s paint was out. But maybe I did it and don’t remember.
Are you okay? I’m going to call you, hang on.
The phone rang in my hand and I answered immediately.
“Hi,” I said, my voice breathy with restrained panic. I attempted to swallow it down, but could feel it oozing up my insides.
“Okay. God, okay,” he said like he could hear everything in my single greeting.
I latched on to his voice like a lifeline.
“Just stay on the phone with me,” he said, when he got no response.
I closed my eyes at the smooth rumble of his voice in my ear and nodded. “Okay.”
“Let’s go through this step by step.”
“Uh huh.”
“Walk back to the front door, and turn the porch light on.”
Clenching my fist, I willed myself to focus on his instructions. “It is, I did that already.” Though we usually didn’t do it because it attracted so many insects.
“Okay, good, now lock the door. Don’t ever worry about locking me out; I have a key. No one else does. Okay?”
I nodded as if he could see me, weak with relief at having him in my ear.
“No one else has a key, got it?” he assured me again. “Say okay, Tom.”
“Okay, Tom.”
“The only other one is hanging on a hook in the pantry cupboard.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Now, I want you to start at the kitchen and check each window. And tell me when you are done. I’m just going to cover the phone for a second to speak to someone, then I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” I cringed as I realized he was probably making apologies to whoever he was meeting for having to talk down his psychotic charge.
Starting at the kitchen window, I worked my way around. My heart pounded and my fingers shook as I fumbled to check each one. It also took a supreme mental effort to try not to look out into the darkness beyond my reflection and imagine something was out there watching me move past each pa
ne of glass.
I closed the curtains or blinds at every single one as soon as I was done checking the locks. The lock in the living room was broken.
“Tom?” My breath hitched.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“The lock on the window in the living room is broken.”
“Okay. I forgot about that one, but it’s one of the older windows and it’s painted shut. I’ve never been able to get it open, no one can. It needs to be replaced. Just haven’t done it yet.”
Nodding even though he couldn’t see me, I tried to tell myself it was true. “I’ve checked all these then.”
“Now my bedroom.”
I headed down the hall, flicking on the lights, and entered his bedroom. “Say something,” I said.
“You in my room?” he asked, sounding breathy, like he was walking.
Pausing, I inhaled deeply. I could just about smell him if I closed my eyes. I listened to his voice and breathed the faint scent of him that lingered.
“Yes,” I said after a moment and walked to his window, checking the locks and pulling the dark denim across the panes. I was standing by his desk. “What do you write about?” I asked.
“How do you know I write?” Shit, he could be writing term papers not fiction.
“I hear you typing sometimes. I just assumed. That was before I knew you were studying.”
“I’m also doing a creative writing minor.”
“Will you read me some of your stuff sometime?”
“Read it to you, or let you read it?”
“Read it to me. I… I like your voice.” There was no response. I scrambled to fill the void. “Okay, your window is secure.”
“Now the bathroom. You’ll have to reciprocate if I do that. And it’s a big if. I’m not sure I’m ready to share it yet.”
I pursed my lips with guilt at having already invaded that privacy. “Reciprocate?”
“If you read me one of those so called depressing fairy tales out loud, I’ll consider it. I like your voice too.”
There was a heavy silence as my chest swelled, and I worked out how to respond. Our banter had calmed me down enormously. Incredible.
I opened the shower curtain and climbed over the tub to the small frosted window high on the wall. A black shape dropped in my periphery vision. I shrieked and let go of the phone as a huge spider landed in the bathtub and went scuttling toward my foot.
