My mother is still talking about Carl when the doctor comes in.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Lewis.”
“Dr. Christiansen, hello.” I hear the stiffness in my mother’s voice. She doesn’t like doctors.
“Hello, Ed.” The doctor comes over to the bed. “How are we feeling today?”
I look at him.
He turns back to my mother. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to chat last week, but I was away at a conference.”
“What I want to know, Dr. Christiansen, is why he’s still not able to speak. You said that once he was here, it would take no time at all.”
“Yes, that still is a bit of a mystery. As I told you when we first spoke, the damage to his T-one and T-two vertebrae should not permanently affect his vocal cords. Of course, the initial trauma, coupled with the fact that he really made no improvements at the last hospital, may mean that they’re weak. It’s just like the situation with his fingers; if he wants to regain strength, he will have to work at it.”
“Are you saying the physical therapy isn’t going well?”
“To be honest, he’s not as responsive as we’d like.”
My mother comes over to me. “Dearest, you really must make an effort.”
She’s right, of course. But it seems pointless; there just hasn’t been anyone I want to talk to.
After Daisy fled her bedroom, I didn’t see her until around supper-time. I looked for her, I even went to the tennis courts, but she wasn’t there.
Aunt Nick and Tyler returned first. Their hair was messy and their faces flushed from the sun.
“What a wind,” Aunt Nick said. “It was really blowing out there.”
Tyler was carrying her boat bag and he touched her bare shoulder lightly as he passed her on his way down to the basement. I saw her flinch. I suspected she didn’t like him doing that in front of me.
“Hello, Ed,” Tyler said.
Aunt Nick gave me a kiss and smoothed her hair down, but her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “I hope it wasn’t too rough on the ferry,” she said.
“No,” I said. “It wasn’t.”
“Where’s your mother?”
“In her room.”
“And Uncle Hughes isn’t back yet?”
“No,” I said.
“All right. I’m going to shower and change. And then we’ll have cocktails and you can tell me what you’ve been up to.” She started up the stairs.
“Daisy’s not here either,” I said.
“What? Oh.” She stopped and turned. She looked confused.
“She’s upset,” I said.
Aunt Nick’s hand was gripping the banister and I could see her knuckles whiten slightly. “Did she say that?”
“No,” I said. “I could just tell.”
“Well, she is getting married in two months. Jitters, I suppose.” Her voice was light, but her fingers never loosened as she climbed the stairs.
Uncle Hughes returned from the Reading Room a short time later and we were all gathered in the blue sitting room when Daisy came in.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey there, sweet pea,” Uncle Hughes said. “Where have you been?”
“Just out walking,” Daisy said.
“What’ll it be?”
“Nothing, thanks, Daddy. I’m thirsty. I think I’ll get a glass of water.”
“There’s some lemon water on the bar,” my mother said. She wasn’t drinking and she’d been eyeing me nervously for the past fifteen minutes.
“Thanks.” Daisy walked over and picked up a tumbler.
I watched Aunt Nick watch her, her fingers curled around the stem of her martini glass.
“We saw the good reverend out sailing this afternoon,” Tyler said, smiling. “Loaves and fishes and all that.”
“Did you?” Daisy seemed distracted. “That’s nice.”
Tyler got up and walked over to Daisy. “Are you all right?” He started to put his arm around her but she shrugged it off.
“I’m fine. I just got hot and tired out walking.”
“I went by the tennis courts,” I said.
Daisy looked at me for the first time since she’d come in the room. But she didn’t say anything.
Uncle Hughes also gave me a hard stare. “What were you doing by the tennis courts?”
“Looking for Daisy,” I said.
“Daisy hasn’t been playing tennis,” my mother said. “Why is that, dearest?”
“She’s been busy, planning her wedding, for heaven’s sakes,” Aunt Nick said.
“Will you all please stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Daisy set her glass down hard on the marble top of the bar.
“Daisy’s right,” Uncle Hughes said. “This is supposed to be cocktail hour, not the Spanish Inquisition.”
No one said anything for a while. Then Uncle Hughes turned to Aunt Nick and said: “So what’s for dinner?”
Nervous laughter rippled around the room.
Aunt Nick got up and put her hand in Uncle Hughes’s. “I got some nice flounder from my little fish man.”
Uncle Hughes looked at her and put his other hand on the crown of her head, like a cap. “That sounds perfect.”
Tyler was staring at the two of them, his eyes like metal. Daisy saw his expression and I watched the muscles move in her face. Then she turned away.
“I’m going to change,” she said.
“All right, darling,” Aunt Nick said, but Daisy was already walking out of the room.
Aunt Nick was right; the flounder was delicious. I liked how she left the skin on, so that I could use my fork to peel it back and uncover the white flesh. I even ate part of the skin; it was crispy and salty, and had captured all the flavor of the seasoning.
Aunt Nick talked about the Fourth of July and how she thought a family picnic would be nice. Then Uncle Hughes told a story about hearing German planes bombing London on New Year’s Eve and how he thought they were fireworks. My mother was unusually quiet, and Tyler seemed absorbed by the food.
After dinner, Daisy excused herself abruptly, the legs of her chair making a scraping noise against the wood floor.
“I’m going to see if she’s all right,” Aunt Nick said, after a moment.
Tyler made a move to stand as well, but she turned on him. “You stay here,” she said, her voice low and harsh.
My mother got up and began clearing the table.
“Let me help you,” Uncle Hughes said, and patted my mother on the back.
Tyler and I sat facing each other. I looked at him and he looked at me. I could see it in his face, he knew I knew. My hands itched. I got up quickly from the table, before I did anything rash, and followed in the direction that Aunt Nick and Daisy had gone.
Out on the front porch, I could see Aunt Nick crossing the road and Daisy’s smaller figure beyond, making her way down the front lawn in the darkness. I kept my distance, staying close to the fence on the far side. They were headed toward the boathouse. I went around the other side, past the outdoor shower.
The air on that side of the boathouse was humid from the runoff and I could hear the tap dripping and feel the slushy grass beneath my shoes. My soles made a sucking noise, which wasn’t ideal. At the front of the boathouse I stopped and listened. I could see a light coming from around the corner and realized that Daisy must have lit one of the kerosene lanterns.
She was sitting on the small steps and Nick was sitting next to her, neither one saying anything.
I pulled my head back and leaned against the side, feeling the shingles digging into my shoulder blades.
After a while, I heard Aunt Nick’s voice.
“Darling, what’s the matter?”
Daisy didn’t respond.
“Whatever it is, I think you should tell me. Is it about the wedding?”
“Do you remember,” Daisy said, finally, “when you told me that if there was one thing I could count on, it was that I wouldn’t always be kissing the right person?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“We were sitting right here. And you were stroking my head.”
“Yes.”
“But you were talking about yourself, weren’t you? It wasn’t about me at all.”
“Daisy.”
“No, no. Don’t say anything, Mummy. I can see it, now. It’s always been about you, hasn’t it? Everything. I’m not even real to you. None of us are.”
“You’re real to me, Daisy. I know I haven’t been the best mother. I’m probably not even a very good person. But you’re real to me and I love you. What is this about?”
“God, Mummy. How can you even say that with a straight face?”
“What do you mean? Just say it, Daisy.” Nick’s voice was mineral.
“What do I mean? I mean everything. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You never have.” Daisy’s words were coming out in little pants, like a winded animal. “All my life, you’ve never been on my side. You’ve been jealous and hard and cold … any little bit of love from Daddy … And since you can’t get that from him, you’ve …”
“I’ve what? I’ve what, Daisy?”
Daisy was silent.
When Aunt Nick spoke again, her voice was softer. “I can’t explain everything to you, darling. I can’t tell you a whole a lifetime of mistakes and missed chances and everything I’ve … I just never wanted to be ordinary. Maybe that’s made me different, harder. But a family, well, it’s complicated. I don’t know what’s brought this on, but I know I’ve hurt you, in so many ways. I know that. And I’m sorry.”
Daisy was quiet, like she was thinking. “You really don’t know what it is?” she said finally. “Are you being honest?”
“Yes,” Aunt Nick said. “I don’t know what I’ve done. Please just say it.”
“I don’t know,” Daisy said, slowly. “I don’t know what I thought.”
“Darling,” Aunt Nick started.
I inched closer again and looked around at them.
Aunt Nick’s hand was on the stairs between the two of them, as if she wanted to touch Daisy, but wasn’t sure. Daisy had her head down and was looking at her feet.
“I don’t know if I’m going crazy, or if you … Maybe it’s the wedding and nerves, I don’t know,” Daisy said. “If it is, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said all those things.” She stood up and started to walk away and then stopped. “But just in case, in case it’s not me and he’s right …” She looked out over the harbor. “I want it to stop, Mother. You have to stop.”
Aunt Nick looked at her, shaking her head, a gesture somewhere between confusion and assent.
But I knew she wouldn’t stop, even if she wanted to. She didn’t know how.
Something in my chest felt heavy as I walked back to Tiger House. As I opened the latch on the front gate, I saw my mother standing on the porch. When I approached her, she grabbed my hand. It startled me; she rarely touched me.
“Ed,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you, I wanted to tell you something, about earlier, about Daisy and your Aunt Nick.”
I looked at her. She seemed frightened.
“I heard what you told Daisy, about Tyler. I don’t know if I’ve ever given you the wrong impression. I don’t want you to put yourself in a situation …” She stopped.
I took my hand out of her grasp and patted her shoulder, the way Uncle Hughes had done earlier. “It’s all right, Mother,” I said. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.”
But it didn’t feel fine. The house felt suffocating and I decided to take a walk to clear my head. I went along our stretch of beach for a while, thinking. I knew what had to be done, but for the first time in my life, I felt unprepared. Hesitant, I suppose, and I knew this was a dangerous thing. Like going to Frank Wilcox’s house without casing it first.
I listened to the foghorns. They sounded plaintive. I thought about Daisy, saw her standing there with her hand over her heart, surprised to see me. I thought about how she always called me Ed Lewis, the way she stamped her foot when she was angry. How when we were growing up, she was the only one who really spoke to me, the only one who really noticed me.
I didn’t know how long I’d been out, but when I reached the house I could see Aunt Nick and Uncle Hughes in the sitting room, drinking. They were very close to each other on the sofa, luminous from where I stood on the dark road. Their lamp was the only light left on, which meant everyone else must have already gone to bed.
I hopped the gate and quietly went up the front steps. I was going to go in and take the temperature, but their conversation stopped me.
“What did she say to you?” Uncle Hughes was asking.
“She …” Aunt Nick stopped. “She thinks I’ve done something.”
“What?”
“Hughes. There’s something I have to tell you.”
“For Christ’s sakes, what is it?”
“I’ve been going crazy with it. I don’t want to hurt Daisy, or you, or anyone. I haven’t been honest …”
Uncle Hughes looked at her, and then down at his hands. He was quiet for a while and then he said: “Nick, you don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“You don’t know what it is,” she said, her eyes searching his downcast face.
“Maybe I do; maybe I don’t. But it doesn’t matter. I know you. I know what you’re capable of and what you’re not capable of. And you’re not capable of cruelty.”
“Darling …”
“Nick, I love you,” he said simply. “And I don’t think there’s a goddamn thing you could do or say now that would change that.” He looked up at her. “So, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I already know what I need to.”
“Oh, Hughes.” Aunt Nick put her hand to his face. “You have no idea. I’ve made such a mess of all of us.”
“We’ve all made a mess of all of us,” Uncle Hughes said. “But you’re going to have to trust me at some point.”
“Yes,” she said. She shook her head. “I always thought our life was …” She stopped. “God, I was so wrong. I don’t know if this will make any sense, but something has been happening … there’s been someone, someone I can see myself in. And they’ve shown me just what a coward, what a goddamn little fool I’ve been all this time.” She laughed softly, as if responding to some private, bitter joke. “I guess marriage,” she said, “it’s like cliff jumping. You can’t lose your nerve.”
I didn’t like this conversation. Something in Aunt Nick’s manner, in her voice, was confusing me, like I was missing something important, and it bothered me. I had to stop thinking. I just needed to get all of this over with and be done with it. I took a breath, and went into the house, letting the door bang loudly behind me.
When I went into the sitting room, I saw a freshly made jug of martinis on the bar. That was good. It would make things easier if she was drunk.
“Just out for a walk,” I said. “I wanted to say good night.”
“Good night, Ed,” Uncle Hughes said. He was obviously wondering if I’d been spying on them.
“Good night,” Aunt Nick said. She looked wound up.
I walked over to her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. It was smooth and cool and I could smell her perfume and the vodka on her breath. “Good night, Aunt Nick,” I said. Then I took myself up to my bedroom to wait.
I lay staring at the ceiling. An hour passed, maybe less, before I heard Uncle Hughes coming up. Enough time for the two of them to have finished off the pitcher of martinis. I hoped that Aunt Nick would go for a swim; that would be easiest. I knew that it might not come off tonight, that I might have to wait for the moment to be right. But when I didn’t hear Aunt Nick’s footsteps on the stairs, I got up and began to prepare myself.
I took my shoes out of the plastic bag helpfully provided by the shoeshine man. I stretched it a little with my fingers to make sure it would be large enough. The details were important. This had to be carefully done. It had to look like an accident.
; I went down to the second-floor landing and looked out the window. I couldn’t see her, so I kept going. I looked in the sitting room, but it was dark and empty. Then I saw her out on the porch, finishing her drink. She placed her empty glass carefully on the railing and then covered her face with her hands and I could hear her start to cry. I had heard about people crying bitterly. Now I knew what it meant. It sounded like crunching gravel being pushed out of a pipe.
After a while, she wiped her eyes and straightened her back, pin straight. I admired her in a way, just at that moment. But I thought about Daisy and the feeling passed. She picked up her glass and started toward the door. I stepped back into the shadow of the sitting room.
She passed me on the way to the kitchen and I moved quietly back up the stairs, taking them two at a time, to the second floor. The bedroom doors were all shut, like sleeping eyes. I moved to the corner of the landing, where I could stand next to the grandfather clock, unseen. I pulled out the plastic bag and waited.
I would put the bag over her head from behind as she rounded the corner toward her bedroom. When she stopped breathing I would slide her down the stairs. It would make noise, but not a lot, and I would have enough time to get at least to the middle of the next flight of stairs before Uncle Hughes or my mother came out of their bedrooms. It would look like I’d run down to see what was happening. Aunt Nick, too many martinis in her, would have tripped and fallen.
It seemed like hours before she finally started up, a little unsteady on her feet. I could hear my own breathing and tried to make my mind go quiet, like I’d done so many times before. As she passed me in the hall, I came up behind her. But she turned. To this day, I don’t know why she did. She couldn’t have heard me. Still, there we were. Me: lifting the bag in both hands; her: brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it.
I was so close to her now.
“What are you doing, Ed?” For some reason, she whispered this, like we were sharing a secret.
I thought: Now, now. She hasn’t made any noise. But instead, I said: “You. And Tyler.”
Tigers in Red Weather Page 32
