by Sarah Tomp
“He has many pictures of Flutie,” said Cotton.
“You know they like each other, right?”
“Obviously they like . . .” He paused. “Oh. They do?”
She let him file this information into his brain. She held out a photo with Cotton in the background behind a grinning Flutie. He was slightly out of focus, but his hair was shorter. “How about like that? Do you want your hair that length?”
When he agreed, she smiled. “I think we should have a boundary word. Like we used to have with . . .”
“Ms. Q.”
“Exactly. If I do something you don’t like, or you need me to hit pause, you can say the word and we’ll stop. That way you won’t get annoyed. And I won’t worry you’re mad.”
“‘Squid.’”
“Squid?”
“It has to be something we can remember, and something we wouldn’t accidentally say.” He shrugged. “I’m not interested in talking about squid.”
“Me neither. All right. ‘Squid’ it is.” She made a face. “That’s a word that sounds like what it is. Now you should cover your shirt. To keep things clean.”
He wrapped a towel around his shoulders.
“Nice cape. What’s your superhero name?”
He grinned. She saw a flash of the Cotton who used to let her copy his papers. “I always liked Green Lantern. But he doesn’t wear a cape. Most superheroes don’t.”
“Really? I thought that was a requirement. But I guess a cape could get in the way.” She held a lock of hair between her fingers on one hand and cut with the other. The sound of the scissors was metallic and harsh. She paused, waiting to see if Cotton seemed bothered.
“A cape is mostly aesthetic,” he said. “But it’s also useful at times. For hiding or providing warmth. It can be a kind of tool.”
She let him talk about the various superhero characters, classifying them by costume, then by origin of power, strengths, weaknesses, geography, and sidekicks. She murmured agreement, soothing little sounds of listening, while she concentrated on her job. His hair felt smooth and silky between her fingers. Now that it was damp, the smell of his shampoo was stronger. It mixed with the smell of his skin, along with the warm and musty smell of the garage, and the clash of mud-smell from her own clothes. She stepped away, took off the offending sweatshirt, then moved back, wearing only a T-shirt. She wasn’t cold anymore.
The trick to cutting his hair was to focus on each individual section, not his entire head. There was too much hair, too many different directions the curls wanted to go. She had to tame each lock before moving on to the next one. Clip by clip, snip by snip, one bit by one bit.
Once she’d made her way around his head, she stood in front of him, studying her work. He looked younger without all the extra hair. Or maybe it was older, now that she noticed the strong line of his chin, dusky with stubble.
“It looks good.” She meant it. “But I need to clean up the edges. Can I use the razor?”
“Yes.”
She used her fingers to lather soap along the nape of his neck. She pressed the blade firmly against his skin, so as not to tickle, but gentle enough not to nick, either.
“Squid,” said Cotton.
She froze, with the razor in her hand. She’d only made two runs along his neck.
“Did you ever shave Sean?”
“No.”
“You can keep going now.”
But the sound of her boyfriend’s name in Cotton’s mouth made her falter. “Squid,” she whispered.
She stepped away from him, needing to clear her head. She wiped a few suds against the hem of her shirt. Then she took a deep breath. There was still another side of Cotton’s neck in need of her attention.
“I guess we should have a ‘go-for-it’ word too. So we know we can start again.”
“‘Humdiddle,’” said Cotton.
She laughed, feeling a warm relaxation seep into her middle. “That’s from the fishes wishes song! All right then, ‘humdiddle.’”
She ran the razor down his neck again.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “About Sean.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You can ask me anything, Cotton. If I don’t want to answer, I’ll call squid.”
“I meant for him. I’m sorry for Sean. This is very pleasant.”
She ducked behind his head where he couldn’t see her ridiculous smile. He had such a way of surprising her, in the best, most wonderfully odd kind of ways.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.”
“I take it back.”
“Good. You can have it.”
“Thank you,” said Cotton.
“You’re welcome.”
And then she laughed because they spoke the same language, even if it didn’t make any sense.
Humdiddle.
Twenty-Six
Ria lay on the trampoline, reacclimating to having her contacts in again. She stared up at the sky, watching the clouds and waiting for Sean. They had a dinner date—he was taking her somewhere “special”—but she was still full from Cotton’s delicious omelet. Maybe if she concentrated, she could will her stomach into digesting faster.
That underground pond was so mysterious. The cold dark of it. With no bottom, no way to know where it ended. That had been risky, going in. But worth it. Definitely. Fear had been right to make an appearance, but she was glad not to have let it hold her back. And cutting Cotton’s hair had been so . . .
Sean.
She needed to think about Sean.
She held herself as still as she could, keeping her muscles taut and tense. Trying not to move the trampoline one tremor’s worth. She tempered her breathing to slow, working toward totally immobile. Every bit of movement, no matter how small, sent a shiver across the tight bed. It was a silly game the team used to play at the dry gym. Someone always started laughing, setting off all kinds of vibrations that always led to more. Now she remembered, the trick wasn’t holding herself tense, it was the not-holding. Complete and utter relaxation was key.
She let loose, trying to be noodled. The cave set her mind racing too much to be still. She needed to focus on something solid and steady. Like Cotton. Only he didn’t calm her either. She laughed to herself thinking of his superhero talk and squid.
“What are you doing?” Sean’s voice broke into her daydream.
She sat up, blinking and reacquainting herself with here and now. She could feel her hair, loaded with static electricity, sticking straight out.
Sean wore pressed khaki slacks, the crease down the middle of his leg looked sharp and straight. It was obvious his crisp white shirt was brand-new. It fit him snug in the shoulders, and the short sleeves wrapped around his biceps, showing off his swimmer’s tan.
“Do I need to change?” She slipped off the trampoline and landed next to him, trying to convince her hair to lie flat.
“I thought you might wear a dress. But you don’t have to.” Something in his voice sounded off.
Ria thought a minute. Not so much about the dress, but the way he looked stiff and nervous. She smiled and tucked her arm in his. “You can be the pretty one tonight.”
At his mother’s car, Sean opened the door. He reached in and grabbed a bouquet of pink roses. “These are for you, my lady.”
She hesitated, then played along. “Thank you, sir.”
Inside the car, the smell of his cologne, musky and deep, filled the air. She buried her nose in the roses, but the smell of his after-shave was stronger. He had a tiny spot of blood on his cheek, from shaving. If she told him, he’d be embarrassed. Maybe if she ignored it, it would fade away.
The restaurant, La Roche, was a small white house perched beside the dam, overlooking the river. The sound of rushing water was almost deafening, and yet had no specific sound. It was like an overwhelming wall of white noise.
“Let’s go look.”
“After dinner. We’re going to be late for our reservation.”
He put his arm around her
as they walked up the cobbled stone path to the front porch. A green sign on the lawn said Gastronomie in fancy curlicue letters. “What does that mean? It sounds like a stomach bug. Or a snail. Isn’t that a kind of snail?”
“It’s French, Ria. Shh.”
“Shh?”
Sean was too busy opening the door with a flourish and bow to explain. She had the distinct feeling he had practiced this move at home. Probably in front of a mirror. Several times.
Inside, an overwhelming smell of lavender and garlic hit Ria in the face.
“Whoa. Looks like they’re expecting a fairy-princess invasion.”
The entire restaurant was decked out in fluff and lace. Little white lights that hung from the ceiling blinked gently amid pink and white ribbons. The hostess led them through the main room and around the corner into an alcove. Here there were four small tables, two taken by couples, each one covered in a white linen tablecloth with a doily topping that made her think of homemade valentines. China bowls filled with white roses sat in the center.
She’d never liked the unforgiving color white.
“Let me help you,” Sean said, standing between her and the chair.
“Help me what?”
“Sit.”
“I’m trying.”
Finally, in her seat, Ria breathed deeply, trying to reset her attitude. To see this place the way Sean meant it.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She smiled at the waitress watching them from across the room. She leaned closer to his ear and whispered, “It’s so white. And breakable.”
“We’ll be careful.”
Ria studied the ornate menu. She couldn’t decipher the flowery cursive. “Do you think they have a kids’ menu?” she whispered.
“We’re getting the special.”
She closed the menu. Immediately the waitress was there to take their order, with lots of nods and murmurs of approval.
As she left them alone again, Ria folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t trust them not to suddenly throw something. It was the old impulse to immediately do whatever she wasn’t supposed to do. The one that had always led to her being seated at the front of the classroom.
“Isn’t this romantic?” asked Sean.
It was a very nice restaurant. She knew that, and yet she wanted nothing more than to run outside and scream at the top of her lungs. Even at dive meets, while waiting for her turn, the needing to be quiet would get to her, make her twitchy and restless. That’s when Benny would give her jobs to do. He’d have her bring snacks to refs, make her coach one of the younger kids, or she’d take pictures and videos. Any kind of job to keep her body busy.
She needed a job right now.
“I wanted to bring you somewhere special to celebrate.”
Her mind raced. It wasn’t her birthday. Or his, she was almost sure. Maybe it was their anniversary of something. She hoped he wouldn’t quiz her.
“Congratulations on getting picked for the NDT!” His smile was way too full of straight teeth, white and bright. “I mean, of course I’ll miss you, but this is perfect! Like your dives!”
Perfect was clearly a matter of perspective, and they had different views.
“Thanks,” she said carefully.
“You should have told me. Benny said you don’t like to brag.”
“Benny?”
“Yeah. He suggested this place.” He ducked his head, grinning sheepishly. “He’s even helping to pay for our meal.”
“Maggie,” she said, but Sean knew it was a question. He nodded. So Maggie knew about the NDT now, and Ria hadn’t told her. “What—” But her unclear, roaming question was cut off by the arrival of their food.
She was relieved to see the small portion on her plate. The sauce was delicious. At first. But then, suddenly, mid-bite, it tasted too rich and creamy. Suffocating.
“I need to use the restroom.” As she got up, she bumped the table. Water spilled on the tablecloth. “Oops.” She pulled her plate over the damp spot.
She ducked behind a partition painted with tiny pink flowers. The bathroom was barely big enough to turn around in. She could sit on the toilet and wash her hands at the same time if she wanted. She wet a paper towel and held it to the back of her neck. She had to power through, like any other workout. Only this time it was the inside of her stomach that was being forced to perform.
She returned to Sean, wearing her most convincing smile. But when she saw the food on her plate again, she couldn’t pretend.
“What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you eating?”
“Can we go? Please?”
He stared into her eyes, his expression hard to read. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say either, except that she needed to escape.
She was so relieved to leave the crowded fluff of a place that they were already in the car and down the road before she remembered that she hadn’t looked over the dam. Disappointment made her eyes sting, but the look on Sean’s face kept her from complaining. She would not obsess about the damn dam. Her stomach ached, but it had nothing to do with the food.
“I’m sorry you didn’t like the restaurant.”
She stared at her reflection in the glass window. She looked muted and fuzzy. She leaned in, pressed her forehead against the cool, smooth surface and counted to ten.
“It’s not your fault.”
He hadn’t picked the place. He’d been following Benny’s orders.
He smiled, grabbed her hand, and squeezed. Ria leaned back against the seat. She closed her eyes, enjoying the heat of him, the way he rubbed his thumb against her wrist.
When he stopped the car, she sat up and tried to see out the dark windows. He’d brought her to a playground. The swings and slides looked like giant insects in the shadows.
“Ria.”
He gazed into her eyes and smiled. He licked his lips. Those lips she’d kissed so many times before. She could, so easily, move to him. Forget talking. She could press herself against him. Let his hands roam over her. And hers would wander too. She could lose herself in that.
If only her head wasn’t attached.
He reached behind her seat, opened a cooler, and pulled out a bottle of wine.
“I know your news calls for champagne, but I couldn’t get anyone to buy it. This is my mother’s favorite white wine. It’s sweet and we can pretend it has bubbles.”
“Did you ask Benny?”
“Ask him what?” Sean pulled out a corkscrew, sharp and twisting.
She played with the bouquet, regretted not putting the poor roses in a vase at home.
“Did you ask him to get champagne? Was that part of his plan for tonight?”
“Of course not.” He stopped messing with the bottle. “He’d probably kill me. Is this a bad idea?”
“Now you’re asking me?”
“What the hell is going on, Ria? You apparently got really good news, but you didn’t tell me. Or even Maggie. So, whatever. But at least I thought you’d finally be happy.”
“You should have told me that you knew about the NDT.”
“You’re the one who didn’t tell me.”
“It was my news.”
“And I’m your boyfriend. I should know your news. It sounds like the NDT is a fantastic opportunity. You should be telling everyone.”
But everyone had it wrong.
“You should have asked me what I wanted to do tonight. Wine? Why would I want wine?”
“I wanted this to be special.”
“I want to go home.”
Instead of answering, he started the car. Drove silently away from the playground. She studied him, blond and gorgeous, a perfect gentleman. The tendons in his jaw pulsed and his knuckles looked white against the wheel, but still he did what she asked.
She cradled the bouquet in her arms, breathing the flowers in, knowing their smell wouldn’t last.
Once he’d parked in her driveway, she turned to him and asked, “Why
me? Why’d you ask me out?”
He didn’t say anything. The quiet lasted long enough for her to wonder if he knew the answer.
“You’re special.” He reached out and played with a lock of her hair. “You never hesitate, never back down, no matter what Benny says or does. You make it look easy. That’s why you’re going to be famous someday.” He was smiling now, caught up in being sweet.
“You wanted to date someone famous?”
“What? No. At first I was going to ask Maggie out. She would actually talk to me.”
“So then what?”
“Well, Benny knew. I guess it was obvious when I kept following the two of you after practice every night. But he thought I liked you. He threatened me a little bit, about treating you right and all that kind of stuff, but then he said I should go for it. That you needed something besides diving to think about.” Sean wrinkled his nose and went on, “Don’t be mad. I’m glad how things worked out. I just never would have thought I could have a chance with you. So when Benny gave me permission, it felt right.”
“He gave you permission.”
“Well, yeah. And that was a good thing. I never would have stood a chance if he didn’t want you dating.”
He was right, of course. But so wrong, too.
“I hate cut flowers.”
Even after the entire mess of a night, he looked stunned.
“They’re dead,” she continued. “But they don’t even know it.”
“What?”
“I don’t drink wine. I hated that fluffy restaurant. You didn’t let me look over the dam.”
It had all been a mistake.
Benny’s mistake. Months ago, he’d set Sean on the wrong road, and then he’d gotten it wrong again tonight.
“Don’t take romance advice from a single man who only loves one thing.” She opened her door, stepped out onto her driveway. “I want to break up.”
“I know,” said Sean. “I’ve always known.”
Twenty-Seven
Ria peeked in her parents’ bedroom. Dad lifted his head from the pillow.
