Theo

by Ed Taylor

  That’s kind of famous, did you know that. You’re famous, too.

  Theo smiled, his face hot.

  What’s your mom like.

  Theo thinks about his mom. Frieda reminds him of an animal, protecting something. He’s not always sure what, but she gets really upset about things, and then can be really happy. She gets madder than his father, and she’s sick more than his dad. Sometimes she forgets she’s a mother, Theo thinks.

  She gets mad a lot, but she’s funny too. She likes to go to parties. She usually takes me. She sings to me.

  What does she sing.

  She likes to sing old songs in German and French. She says they’re what her nannies sang to her when she was a little girl. She gets mad at my dad.

  She does.

  Yeah and he gets mad back at her. That’s why they don’t really live together. Frieda says she and my dad are like two tigers caged together. If the world let them have more room, they’d be fine.

  Gina and Theo are among the dunes now. Dry sand on the wooden crossties squeaks under their feet.

  Do you know my dad.

  No. Only by reputation.

  Is that good.

  Yeah. Among musicians he’s a popular guy.

  How did you meet my mom.

  She was at the club last night. I realized I’d met her before. She is a really good connector. She’s always going, hey, you simply must hear this band, or you absolutely must see this painting, or you two absolutely must meet.

  What do you play.

  Didn’t we already have this conversation. She’s smiling.

  I don’t remember what you said.

  Keyboards.

  Do you like the beach.

  Yeah, I just never get to see it. I’m too broke.

  Does it cost money to go.

  It does if you don’t already have money.

  I don’t understand.

  It’s the way the world works. It’s only the poor people and the schmucks who pay for things.

  What’s a schmuck.

  A schmuck is a, um. A schmuck is someone who doesn’t know he’s a schmuck.

  What.

  Sorry. Never mind.

  Am I a schmuck.

  She stops and stares at Theo, wrinkling up nose and mouth, one hand on her hip. Then she stares back where they came from, at the top of the house visible over the dunes. Then she puts a finger to her mouth and goes: Hmmm, I do not think you qualify as a schmuck.

  Alright, Theo says, and starts running on the squeaking sand through the last few feet of dune and down onto the beach, wide and dry, tide still out, his head ringing so that he shakes it, a dog. Sun on sand hurts eyes.

  Ahead he can see the volleyball stuff up, a few people from other houses. The volleyball people don’t look like the ones from the other houses. They’re animals in fur when it’s hot. They’re from a cold place; Theo watches them in their long pants. Now one man is taking off pants, hopping on one leg, and he’s in his underwear. Boxer shorts. He’s very white. The others don’t say anything, just plop on sand with no towels or blankets or chairs or anything. Just the cooler. Coolers.

  Scattered up and down the beach are colonies of sitters under striped umbrellas or tents. Air ripples and shimmers, and people walk on wavy legs and a golden retriever has none at all, just brown gliding over wavy air.

  The man in the boxers is thumping his chest with his fists, and the others on the sand are pushing onto feet as Theo slogs toward them through snow. He twists around to see Gina – smiling and stripping off her T-shirt on her skinny white chest and a black brassiere. Theo knows about brassieres but tries not to. But he can’t help it, he’s looking. Her chest in the bra, it’s bouncing a little as she walks.

  Theo turns and the other ladies are tugging up shirts. One has on a flesh-colored brassiere so it sort of looks like she’s naked and one has on some other kind of chest underwear that Theo doesn’t know. He stops looking.

  One of the men flips up the cooler lid and pulls out bottles and passes them around. Theo can hear the hiss of the tops being twisted off and the men throw the caps at each other and all tip them up and drink at the same time.

  The man who carried the equipment, Mark, gets onto his feet but he’s weaving a little.

  Full contact. Shirts and skins. Mark grins.

  Hey, we’re in too. Let’s put some money down on this contest.

  Colin’s voice cuts even through the beach wind. Behind him on one side is Mingus and on the other, the Seal. Further back, Theo sees Gus, carrying a folding chair.

  Theo wants to swim. He doesn’t want to play volleyball; the grownups mostly aren’t noticing him, except for the ones who have to, Gus and Colin, and Colin seems wobbly. Gus is planting an umbrella, stabbing over and over at the sand until he stops, then shakes the umbrella. He opens his wooden chair by flipping it, and then lowers himself into it, one of the sling chairs, and Gus looks like a baby in a cradle, his legs barely on the sand and him sunk into the cloth with a floppy hat like babies wear and sunglasses. And he has his bottle.

  Even Gina’s not paying attention to Theo. They just want to meet his dad. Or sometimes his mom, but a lot of the time that’s just to meet his dad, too. To talk to his dad or give something to him. Or to ask his dad for something.

  Stay where I can see you, okay, mate: Gus is talking, his voice thin on the wind, to him. Theo just walks ahead, toward the water, not looking back.

  Theo’s chest hurts. Somebody slams into him from behind, and he spills forward, half turning as he falls, his head feeling cracked, a sharp pain in a line, but then it dulls and disappears. One of the men he doesn’t know, with no shirt and bumps on his chest and shoulders and back, is sitting on him, the man’s arms holding Theo’s shoulders down. Theo is mad and pushes at him.

  Get off me.

  Didn’t want you to feel left out.

  Theo’s hair on the left side is crusted with sand, and there’s sand in his eyes and nose and on his lips.

  Left out of what, being stupid, Theo asks, straining but the man grins, pushes, sits; he lets Theo struggle for a while that feels like forever, sun knifing into Theo’s eyes.

  Get off.

  Theo’s feeling smothered, a little panicky, frantic; trapped. In the middle of everybody and everything still alone. No one home. The staring man with hands on Theo grins then springs up and spins away, back toward the others. Theo pushes up fast and kicks sand toward the man’s back, the sand not even close and the man turning once to look back, pointing at his eyes with two fingers then pointing the forked fingers at Theo.

  Theo looks at Gus in his sunglasses and shade, not moving or saying anything: he might be asleep again. People are running back and forth, ducking under the volleyball net, knocking into each other, even the ladies. Someone is throwing the volleyball at people. Theo watches for a few seconds – he sprints over and flings himself at Colin.

  Bouncing, rolling, knocking people down, Theo ducks and runs at bodies with his face down between his outstretched arms, trying to avoid elbows and knees, he’s slammed and bounced hard, this isn’t a game. Theo’s head is now in a lady’s stomach and it’s Gina, who goes over backward with him on her, his face now inches from her chest. He can see drops on her skin, between. She smells like soap: she pushes him off grinning.

  Get out of there.

  Theo’s up now and hopping around, flinging his arms and kind of dancing, his body’s just on its own; he’s spinning and spinning until he’s dizzy and collapses. Woozy and hot and sweaty and now powdered with sand and grit, he’s panting. Gina is standing in front of him, legs apart, hands on hips, as people unknot and bend over, or sprawl in sand. Colin’s on his knees.

  Okay, let’s play.

  Colin gets up, staggers near Theo, and then he makes motions with his hands, like he has the ball, but he doesn’t. Colin pretends to toss it in the air and hit it, and Gina on the other side, pretends to hit it, too. Her arms look strong: Theo can see the muscles move in them.
She stretches her arms in front of her and pretends to bounce the ball off her wrists.

  Colin turns and looks at Theo: Don’t let it hit the ground, mate, dive.

  So Theo dives with his arms out, sliding on the sand. Brilliant, mate. Colin stares up in the air and his head follows an imaginary ball, falling near Mingus, who stares too, then draws back a foot and kicks at the air.

  Colin leaps with arms stretched, although he’s only a few inches off the sand, and Mingus dives. Gina says, our point, didn’t make it over.

  Colin says, un-bloody-likely. That was just a killer block.

  When something needs rules, adults don’t use them, and when rules are stupid is when they add them. Theo just wants to play. He wonders who is at the house now, who’s left. What are the dogs doing, as someone walks a setter on the beach. Theo sees two boys on all fours, digging at the sand, breakers washing over them. No adults are around them.

  Colin’s leaning on his shoulder: Hey, stop mooning about. I need my teammate focused here.

  Why does his mother take the stuff that she does. Gus is stitting up now, scratching under his shirt, yawning, holding a cigarette low in his other hand, hanging at his side. All these people are. All these people are strangers. Theo thinks maybe something is wrong with him. He feels funny.

  I don’t feel good.

  What’s the matter mate, the heat. Whyn’t you just sit for a bit.

  No, I want to get in the water.

  Theo thinks this would feel better. He can walk past the boys, see what they’re doing.

  Colin’s reaching for something from the cooler. Gus always brings things wherever he goes: he’s like a turtle. Home and hearth, Gus says, just in the middle of anything. He and Theo will be sitting on the lawn, or watching Wheel of Fortune on the old TV in his room. There’s not supposed to be a TV in the house, his mother said no TV, but Gus said, I’m a grown man. Home and hearth. Theo knows hearth is a fireplace. Gus talks to the lady on the show.

  Theo without thinking starts walking at the water, the low roar like people, the white fringe on the green waves, the same color as when he had a sinus infection and stuff came out of his nose. A big brown wood boat churns from right to left offshore, its cabin white, ladies in bathing suits on the front part of the boat and the roof of the cabin, some men in the back part, holding glasses. The ladies are all lying down. Theo shades his eyes, can’t see much.

  Theo’s stomach’s growling. He remembers the biscuits and tuna, the lunch his mom promised. Or she didn’t promise, just said. Theo feels regular vibrations in his feet. Gina’s beside him.

  Where are you going.

  Swimming.

  Can you swim.

  Yeah. I’m a good swimmer. Sort of.

  Okay. Mind if I come with you. I’m tired of these people.

  They’re your friends.

  We’re on the same circuit, I see them too much. We always end up at the same parties, same clubs. Same mansions. Gina smiles.

  Theo looks back: everyone’s flat on the sand. One lady and one man lie on top of each other. They all look shipwrecked, ragged and wet, pale, except for Gus under his umbrella staring down the beach.

  They pass the two boys digging at sand with bright red and yellow buckets, making a trench around a raised place that looks like a castle. Theo looks, they look at Theo and Gina. They seem his age, blond, long hair in their eyes, long surfer shorts like Theo’s. They must have been to Hawaii too.

  Nice castle, Gina said, smiling.

  Nice tits, one of the boys says, grinning, and the other one laughs.

  Gina turns on him. Little boy, she leans down close to him, that’s rude. But you’re so young you don’t even know what you’re saying. So I won’t punch your fucking little boy face out the back of your head.

  Theo stares. Gina’s staring at the boy, who’s staring at the sand, shrugging, digging, grinning, as is the other digger.

  Gina straightens up and sighs, walking away and leaving Theo standing staring at them. The two boys look up at him. Fuck off, the other one says.

  Theo kicks him in the chest, the sound like a drum, and yells. Then Theo stands still, panting, his heart pounding, head pulsing. Two hearts. Gina’s beside him.

  The two boys are standing up now, one with a red spot on his chest that he’s rubbing.

  Run to mommy pussy.

  She’s not my mother.

  Still a pussy.

  Come on, Theo: Gina’s pulling him toward the water: What happened.

  I kicked him.

  Why.

  They made me mad.

  Yeah. Gina sighs. She turns, as does Theo. The two boys stand and look, one with arms crossed, white flowers on their long shorts. One has a big portable phone on its back in his hand and jabs at it with a finger. Theo’s seen these before, but mostly in limos. People around his father sometimes carry them, and parents of kids in his school. He’s seen them in Manhattan, men in suits usually but once a tall lady in a short skirt and a see-through plastic coat.

  Let’s cool off in the water.

  Green surf, and the sand’s sinking. The brown boat’s down the beach. In the shimmering air, figures move, fly kites, play paddle tennis, sit under awnings and tents. Where the land curves like a big jaw, to the right, are houses with walls cutting off the beach.

  Gina wades out in her skirt, Theo tries not to watch as the cloth floats and swirls, sticks to her thighs. She dives.

  Theo pushes against the water, then dives in a shallow arc, just under, eyes tight shut, a hand on his nose, then shoots up sputtering. Gina’s not anywhere.

  Theo scans in a circle standing, the water just below his waist, not as deep as he thought. Back on the beach a phalanx of Colin and the other people is stumbling toward him, the two kids are squatting on the sand, Colin’s stopping to talk to them, or talk at them, he’s kicking whatever they’re building, he’s backing up, he’s running through it, yelling, pointing at them, laughing, now he’s dancing in a little circle, the others are staring at him, some keep walking, the boys are yelling at him, one’s waving the big phone, which is almost as long as his forearm. Why do they have that.

  Mouthy little prat: Theo hears Colin, who’s now on a line toward the water..

  Theo spins to check the water – Gina’s there, floating on her back, paddling, skirt billowing, her pale skin blazing in the sun. She’ll get sunburned, Theo thinks, and dives but keeps his head above the water, and tries to swim like he learned in lessons; putting his arms over his head and pulling down, the freestyle or crawl, he can’t remember, but it’s hard and after five or six strokes he decides to paddle like the dogs, lifting his head out just in time to get a face full of wave. The salt burns in his nose and throat and he stands to spit and shake, then jumps forward, frog-kicking.

  Gina’s turning over and bending to dive: her rear sticks up in the air under a skin of wet skirt then she’s gone. Theo stops and stands, water just below his chest. He looks to the shore. Colin’s rolling in the breakers pretending he’s dead, he always does this, and the Seal is walking up wearing pants with the legs cut off at the knees, talking to people, who are looking at him and talking, smiling. Theo doesn’t know anyone. He turns and dives.

  The ocean’s hissing and churning, and muffling like in a bath-tub when you’re under. Theo tries opening his eyes: brown-green blurs and shadows. How close in do sharks come. Crabs. He closes his eyes and comes up, huffing.

  Gina, now on her back, floats. When Theo took swimming lessons he just sank during the survival float. His teachers said it’s because he’s skinny. Colin said, it’s because you’re so dense, mate, and laughed. Like a brick.

  Theo’s up and watching everyone, and Gus, way up on the beach, under his striped umbrella, and there’s a jeep driving up the beach, with two men in it, in uniforms and sunglasses, and it’s driving from the high dry strip where Gus is to the low wet band the waves reach. And it’s stopping where the two boys are, who are pointing at the ocean. Maybe the jeep w
ill sink.

  Theo sinks, into the water, hands on nose, until only his eyes are showing. The two men are talking down at the boys, and the man who’s not driving hops down and walks around the jeep and toward all of the people wallowing in water and sand, or floating, the Seal somewhere, Mingus forming a big T on the sand and Colin now standing with two men and a lady in the water talking and hitting the water with their hands, backs to the beach.

  Hey.

  The guy from the jeep has sunglasses and a gun. He puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles: Hey. You. Yeah you. The man crooks a finger at Colin, gestures at him. Come here.

  Why. Colin’s yelling back.

  The man stands with hands on his hips.

  Colin’s slogging through the water now, others following, some others on the sand converging at the uniformed man.

  Colin and the guy are talking, Colin puts a hand on the guy’s shoulder for an instant then moves it off to gesture back toward the house, then out at the ocean. Then he turns and points directly at Theo. Theo didn’t realize Colin knew where he was. Theo stands up.

  Colin’s talking still, and smiling, and now the guy from the jeep is smiling. Then the two of them shake hands, and the guy walks back toward the two boys. He talks to them for a minute, then gets back into the jeep, and it drives away, down the beach, spraying sand. One of the boys holds the phone to his ear again. The other squats with his back to the ocean and Colin and Theo and the sun.

  Theo closes his eyes and falls backward just as a wall of heavy wave hits: it thumps him and he spills sideways and under.

  Dolphin, diver, moving, moving – up for air, blowing, hair over eyes, seaweed, a spy, a diver, back down into cool rushing and the hum, no thinking, everything behind. Eyes open an instant then closed, no looking just swimming, pulling hard, bumping the bottom, his chest on the sand, pulling, the ceiling of water over, then up and through it to something new.

  Theo’s moved just a few feet from where he was last, and Colin’s thrashing at him, head down, spraying; not even knowing, just automatically there, wherever Theo is.