As we approached them, I could see Uncle Hughes recoil, but only with his eyes. It was a neat trick and I admired him for it, the way he could make his body say one thing while his mind said another. And although I knew he couldn’t stand me, ever since the summer with Frank Wilcox, the funny thing was, I didn’t dislike him. I was even a little sorry about all that. I hadn’t meant to make him take against me, but I hadn’t learned yet to keep certain things to myself. How to talk to people. Another thing boarding school had been good for.
“Hello, darling,” Aunt Nick said, leaning in to kiss Daisy. I could smell the perfume she always wore, floral but with some hint of alcohol. “Hello, Ed.”
“Hello,” I said. I shook hands with Uncle Hughes.
“How is your mother?” Aunt Nick asked. She looked as if she really wanted to know.
“She’s in the hospital.”
“Yes,” Aunt Nick said. “The doctor thinks she will be ready to come back home this summer. Did she seem … well?”
“I suppose.” I never really knew what people meant by that, only that you were expected to answer in the affirmative. By Aunt Nick’s standards, my mother was not well. She was very angry and not all that good at hiding it, despite what seemed to be a considerable effort.
I could tell, during my latest visit, that she had been trying to communicate something to me, about Aunt Nick, I think. But, honestly, I wasn’t sure why she was so angry. It wasn’t as if she had been doing much before she went to the hospital, except sleeping in that dark room and fighting with my father.
“I hope so …” Here Aunt Nick trailed off.
Uncle Hughes put his hand on her arm.
“Mummy,” Daisy said, “Ed just got here. He doesn’t want to talk about the hospital.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Aunt Nick said, and looked around, probably to see if anyone had been listening.
“So, Ed,” Uncle Hughes said, smiling. “What are your plans for the summer?”
“He’s going to be my date,” Daisy said, squeezing my hand, which was actually getting quite damp from her grip. “That is, if he can stop mooning after older women. You should have seen him.” She smiled at her parents. “He could barely tear himself away from Olivia Winston long enough to order a drink.”
“I wasn’t mooning.”
“Liar,” Daisy said.
Uncle Hughes gave me one of his keen looks and I just made my face go blank.
“Oh,” Aunt Nick said, looking over our heads toward the door. “Isn’t that Tyler Pierce?”
Of course it was Tyler Pierce, which Aunt Nick knew because she was looking right at him. But Daisy turned anyway, and then turned back quickly.
“Who’s Tyler Pierce?” Uncle Hughes asked.
“One of Daisy’s beaux,” Aunt Nick said, smiling that big, crazy salad smile she had.
“He’s not a beau,” Daisy said, but I could tell she wasn’t being entirely truthful. I could always tell when Daisy was doing that, because it didn’t fit well on her.
“Well, here he comes,” Uncle Hughes said. He was also smiling now, not like Aunt Nick, but as if what Daisy had said amused him.
“Hello, Tyler,” Aunt Nick said.
“Hello, Mrs. Derringer, Mr. Derringer.”
He was standing right next to Daisy, but she didn’t look at him, which was probably a good idea since he was staring at Aunt Nick.
Then he did say: “Hello, Daisy,” so she had to turn to face him.
“Hello.” She said it in a cool voice, but I could tell from her eyes that she wanted him to keep talking to her. “You remember my cousin, Ed.”
“Of course.”
We shook hands, but I got the distinct impression that he had no idea who I was.
“I was just on my way to the bar,” Tyler said. “Can I get anyone a drink?”
“I’ll go with you,” Aunt Nick said. “Darling? Do you want anything?”
“No,” Uncle Hughes said. “I’m going to try to get an oyster before they’re all gone. Shall I get one for you?”
“Oh, yes, please,” Aunt Nick said, and she looked at Uncle Hughes in a kind of soft, pretty way that made my hands twitch.
Daisy leaned back against the wooden rail and looked up at the sky.
“You still like him,” I said.
“Yes, Ed, I still like him,” she said quietly. I could see the muscles in her forearms flexing beneath her skin. She looked back at me suddenly, with heat in her voice, and said: “But I don’t like that way he has. It’s too perfect and fake.”
“Yes,” I said. “It is fake.”
“I know, and I sort of hate him for it sometimes.” She scuffed the bottom of her shoe against the boards. Her shoes were yellow, I noticed, and flat.
“He stares at your mother,” I said.
“What?” She looked at me like she hadn’t heard me.
“Your mother,” I said, “he looks at her.”
“Who doesn’t?” Daisy said. “Anyway, it has nothing to do with my mother. It’s about what happened with us. We’ve slept together.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. But it certainly was an interesting development.
“Last summer, if you were wondering. And don’t stand there looking at me funny.”
“I’m not,” I said.
“Sometimes I hate everyone.”
When she said things like that, I thought about touching her, on the shoulder, or her wrist. Just to see if her skin felt different at that moment. I hardly ever touched her, only when she touched me, really. And I had no desire to. Except at times like this, when she was in this kind of mood. Then I wondered if I touched her, if I would be able to feel it, like a change in temperature. But I knew I couldn’t, I must not ever touch her when I was wondering about something.
“I want a drink,” she declared.
“All right.”
“Will you get me another gin and tonic?”
I walked back inside to the bar, where Thomas glared at me, but got me the drink anyway. I took a pistachio out of one of the bowls and snapped off the shell. I like the way, with a pistachio or a peanut, how it has this very hard shell and then another skin on the inside over the nut, like the shell isn’t enough.
I looked around at the room.
The woman with the violet eyes was gone, but outside, on the front porch, I saw Aunt Nick talking to Tyler. She gave the impression of being half-in, half-out of the Reading Room, like she’d wandered out there without realizing and then had tried to correct the situation. Tyler was taller than she was and he had to bend his neck slightly to speak with her. I picked up the drink and made my way over to one of the windows that looked out onto the porch. If I leaned against the wall next to it, I’d be able to hear what they were saying without being seen. Oldest trick in the book.
I eyed the gin and tonic in my hand and then took a sip. I’d get Daisy another one. I bit down on an ice cube and felt it shatter between my teeth.
“I was really glad to see you here tonight,” Tyler was saying, “because I made your lemonade today. Do you remember the secret recipe you told me about?”
Aunt Nick laughed, like she didn’t care what he was saying at all. “Did you? My goodness. When did I give away my secret recipe?”
“Ages ago, I guess. But I’ve never forgotten it.”
“Oh well, I’m glad.”
There was a silence and I imagined him looking at her. And then he said: “Are you having a good time?”
“Yes, I suppose so.” She laughed again. “What a funny thing to say. Of course.”
“Good. I can never tell what you’re thinking. You’re one of those people.”
“One of what people?”
“I don’t know, the kind that’s hard to read. You always look like you’re having a good time, but I get the feeling that sometimes it’s … I don’t know, a show.”
“This is a very deep conversation, Tyler. One I’m not sure I’m capable of carrying on afte
r only two cocktails.” Aunt Nick had her “Don’t be a fool” voice on.
“That’s what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you’re pretending. Right now. I can see it.”
“Goodness, this is turning very strange.”
“I can see you.” He sounded very sure of himself and then he added, “Nick.”
There was another silence, and I had to will myself not to look.
Then Aunt Nick said: “Let go of my wrist, Tyler, darling. You’ll make a scene.”
She strode through the door, her back very straight, and saw me standing there off to the side.
“Oh, Ed,” she said. “Where’s Daisy?”
“Out on the dock.” I looked at her to see how she would react. She must have known I could have heard, but she didn’t say anything else. She just walked off in the other direction.
I thought about this, and what it meant. There were a million things she could have said, like “Tyler Pierce is very drunk,” or “Goodness, that Tyler Pierce is a piece of work,” or “I just had the strangest conversation with Tyler Pierce.” But she didn’t say any of these things. So I thought about that. Then I followed her out to the dock, back to Daisy.
“Ed Lewis, you have got to be the slowest person alive,” Daisy said when she saw me. “And what happened to my drink?”
I looked down at the gin and tonic and realized I’d drunk most of it. “I got waylaid,” I said.
Aunt Nick was fiddling with the handkerchief in her pocketbook.
“Oh, fine,” Daisy said. “I’ll go get my own.”
I watched her go back inside and head for the bar. From where I was standing, I could see her order her drink from Thomas, and then Tyler come up next to her and put his hand on the small of her back. I was going to go back in, but Aunt Nick stopped me.
“Ed, Uncle Hughes and I are going to go home for supper now. Will you make sure Daisy gets back all right? Don’t go running around after the ladies. And don’t let her drink too much. It’s unbecoming.”
“I don’t run around after ladies,” I said.
“Well, fine,” Aunt Nick said, but she wasn’t really listening. “I’ll leave something out in the kitchen for you two. Sandwiches? I don’t know. Remember to eat when you get home.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek, and there was her perfume again, burning my nostrils slightly.
She walked over to Uncle Hughes, who was talking to some man in bright red trousers and an equally bright green belt by the oyster bar. She put her hand on his arm, and he turned and looked at her like he’d been waiting all night for that moment. Then they were gone. I walked back inside and headed to where Tyler and Daisy were standing. He was grinning at her. I was very close to them, but they didn’t notice. Sometimes I could do that, be surprisingly near to someone, and they didn’t even sense I was there. I hadn’t quite figured out the trick to it, but I knew it had something to do with being very still, not just on the outside, but inside my head, too. Everything had to go blank and quiet, and then it was almost as if I didn’t exist.
“I do owe you an apology. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. I behaved abominably last summer.” He was saying this, but he was still grinning like it was a joke.
Daisy just looked at him.
“I felt terrible about it. I shouldn’t have let you go the way I did.”
“Yes,” she said finally. “You were disgusting.”
“I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me make it up to you.”
She looked like she was about to answer, but something made her turn and see me. She seemed startled. “Ed. For God’s sakes, stop sneaking up on people like that.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” I said. It was true, I had been standing right there in plain sight.
“Well, you know what I mean.” She stamped her foot a little.
“Your mother said I shouldn’t let you drink too much.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Daisy said.
“He’s just looking out for you. Aren’t you, Ed?” Tyler smiled at me. I got the feeling he thought I was slightly retarded, or something.
“I am looking out for Daisy,” I said.
Tyler narrowed his eyes as if I’d said something disagreeable. His stance altered ever so slightly, his head leaning back a bit to take me in. “Well, there’s no reason to worry, sport,” he said. “I’ll take care of her.”
I just watched him.
“Oh, Ed, really,” Daisy said. “Don’t get all weird.”
Sometimes, I got the impression that Daisy really understood me, that she knew all about my work and that she approved, or at least tolerated it. But maybe I was fooling myself.
“We’re going to go for a walk,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Well.” She hesitated. “I guess I’ll see you back at the house.”
She put her arm through Tyler’s. He looked at me, his grin firmly back in place.
“Nice seeing you again, Ed.” But he didn’t try to shake my hand this time.
“Good-bye,” I said.
I took a walk, too, down by the harbor as far as I could, and then up around the Old Sculpin Gallery. A few people on bicycles were waiting for the last ferry to Chappaquiddick. One, a young woman, wearing a kerchief over her hair, was alone. She was playing with the strap on her shoe, which was evidently broken and hung limply to the side, resisting her efforts to make it buckle. I could feel myself starting to breathe a little harder. I thought briefly about getting on with them, but Chappy was so wild, I would probably get lost in the darkness and end up with poison ivy.
I walked up North Water Street and then took a left on Morse Street. I could feel the tennis courts calling, but I ignored the urge. I had learned that going over something again and again made it lose its magic. So instead, I went down Fuller Street, with its perfect little white houses and wraparound porches. I saw someone, a woman, turn out ahead of me. I was quiet, walking on the balls of my feet, like Mr. Reading had taught me in Scouts all those years ago. As I got closer, I could see by the shade of her red hair and the way she walked, with her shoulders a little hunched in, that it was Olivia of the Violet Eyes.
She opened the front gate to one of the houses and went in. I hung back a little, until I saw a light go on in one of the upstairs rooms. Then I let myself in the front gate, and moved through the shadow at the side of the house, where I could see clearly up into the window.
She passed in front of it and lifted the sash a bit higher, running her hand around her neck, as if she was hot. She pulled off her dress and her slip was pink, the color of a seashell. She disappeared for a bit then, and I thought perhaps she might not come back. But just as I was thinking of leaving, she returned. She stood very still in front of the window, then put a hand over her eyes. I could hear the sobbing, not because it was loud, which it wasn’t, but because we were actually so close to each other, even if she was a good ten feet above me.
I wanted to go in very badly. I wanted to touch her, and find out what was underneath her skin. She was an interesting person, but she had cracks. And it was the cracks I was drawn to because they were the inside peeking out, a glimpse of what was hiding below the surface. The back fat spilling over the dress; the chewed cuticle; the smudged lipstick; the run in the stocking.
I knew I couldn’t go in. If Frank Wilcox had taught me anything, it was that the Island was too small. He’d been lucky; Elena Nunes had only been someone’s maid. But Olivia was one of us. She was off-limits.
Still, as I walked away, out of her yard, leaving her sobbing softly to herself in her upstairs bedroom, I had a sense of satisfaction. I felt light, like anything was possible, like the world was my oyster. It wasn’t always about doing, sometimes it was just thinking about doing it, standing by yourself in the dark and being honest about what you wanted.
I could hear the h
ush of the night around me as I made my way down North Water Street toward Tiger House. The sidewalks were empty, and I was greeted only with the sound of my own shoes hitting the pavement. I was thinking that the evening had been a good one. Then I saw them.
The dim porch light scattered shadows around them and gave Daisy’s hair a glow like bright fire. They were standing so close together, yet their bodies weren’t quite touching. Gray, dusty-winged night moths were skittering overhead, and I had the fanciful notion that they were attracted by the glow coming off Daisy, rather than the light above. His hand was in her hair, pulling her head back slightly. She was on the brink, not entirely in control, and it was as if what had begun earlier in the evening on that same porch was about to be completed. Like a full bloom. And then he kissed her, and I knew there was going to be trouble.
1967: AUGUST
Tyler picked me up from the airport. I had just flown in from Cedar Rapids, and he was tapping the wheel of his olive-green car impatiently by the time I walked outside into the muggy eastern air. My mind was still full of Iowa and its rolling plains and the small farmhouse near Elvira, and Tyler’s clean, city looks and crisp shirt, not to mention those vinyl bucket seats, were like a shock to the system.
“Trunk’s open,” he said, so I put my suitcase and briefcase in the back.
“We’ll have to make time if we’re going to catch the last ferry,” he told me angrily, when I got into the car. “I don’t want to be stuck in Woods Hole.”
I just looked at him and watched as his eyes slid uneasily off me.
When we hit the Mass. Turnpike, he tried again. “So, your mother’s birthday.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I know Daisy’s excited you’re coming. How long’s it been since the two of you saw each other?”
“Nine months,” I said. A Mexican restaurant in the city before Christmas. She’d spent the holidays in Florida with Aunt Nick and Uncle Hughes. I’d spent them at Tiger House with my mother, who’d talked a lot about some sewing business she wanted to start so she could buy back our old cottage. I didn’t really listen; I preferred Tiger House, anyway.
Tigers in Red Weather Page 29
