by Edward Hogan
“Bugger off! Bloody kids.”
The old man hung up, and I deduced that the digits on the tree did not relate to phone numbers.
I lay back on my bed and thought of her swimming, the absolute clarity of the sound of her hand dipping into the water. I thought of her wrist, and the time ticking backward. 32, 31, 30, 29, 28 . . .
When I woke the next morning, I felt ill. Except ill isn’t the right word. I felt like someone had kicked the absolute crap out of me. Was this love? That was how my parents always talked about love. Like a pain, an ache, a bind. True, I’d only spoken to Lexi for a few minutes, but I felt more alive than I had for God knows how long, and I felt battered and bruised. Maybe that’s it, I thought. Maybe I’m in love.
I had woken later than I’d wanted to, but I took a little time to dress and style my hair. I thought I’d wear the T-shirt she said she liked, but it didn’t smell so great, so I went for a black polo shirt instead, black being a slimming color. I had become addicted to the hay-fever nasal spray and fired a few shots up my nose, the flowery smell taking me back, for a moment, to happier holidays, with Mum.
Dad was already up, but that wasn’t a great surprise. He operated in a cycle: feel emotional, drink, kick stuff, get a hangover, apologize, become slightly righteous about health, and then, eventually, get emotional again. The “become righteous about health” stage was better than the “drink” stage, but I didn’t much like any of the cycle.
“Morning, Daniel,” he said. He was wearing his tennis gear. His legs were sturdy and thick. “Where are you off to?”
“I’m just going out,” I said.
“Who with?”
“Oh. Just some mates I met at the pool.”
“Some fellas, eh?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Brilliant. I told you that Dome was the place to be. Is that where you’re meeting?”
“Nah. We’re just going to ride around a bit. On the bikes.”
“Good lad. Don’t forget your old dad, though, eh? I’ve booked us the tennis court for one. Shall I meet you there?”
My heart sank, but I couldn’t face an argument. I couldn’t face the consequences of an argument. “OK,” I said.
The thing about Lexi was, as soon as I saw her, I seemed to forget about myself. It was such a relief to think of someone else. That morning, as I neared the lake, I heard her changing direction in the water, and I felt that surge of energy again. When I got to the clearing, I could smell smoke. By the big tree, there was a steaming hump of canvas, held down by rocks. It looked like a dead body, and I stayed well away.
Lexi was out in the water, searching its depths with her eyes, looking for something. I made myself visible as soon as I could, so she wouldn’t accuse me of peeping from behind the trees. “Hello,” I said. “I’m back.”
She looked up from the water, smiled, and then put a finger to her lips. She began to follow something with her gaze and then she dived beneath the surface. Several seconds passed. For a moment I thought she’d been dragged under by some beast. I thought I might have to go in and try to find her. But she surfaced, eventually, ten meters away, with a full-beam smile on her face. Her arms jerked for a second, and then she held a silver fish above her head.
“No way,” I said to myself.
She swam to the bank with one arm. “Good to see you again, Daniel.”
“And you,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to be quiet anymore,” she said, holding up the fish. “I don’t think he’s going to hear you.”
I was a little overwhelmed. “Are you a mermaid?” I asked.
“Are you insane?” she said. I laughed, snapped back into the real world.
“You look very well this morning, Daniel. Rosy cheeked. Did you exercise yesterday?”
“I did. I went swimming. I tried to swim like you.”
“And did you?”
“Not as good.”
“Oh. You’re being kind.”
She took the canvas off the steaming mound, and I flinched. But it was just grass and stones underneath, with a few cobs of corn and a couple of other fish on top. “This is my cooking pit,” she said. “I thought I’d make us some breakfast.”
“Won’t the grass catch fire?” I asked.
“No. It’s just steam. It comes from the hot rocks underneath.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“The Crow.”
“What’s the Crow?”
“They are a tribe of Native Americans.”
“Jesus. Where are you from?”
“Derby. We studied the Crow Indians in history class. This pit is very similar to the meat holes they built to cook buffalo. Do you like history, Daniel?”
“My mum does. I don’t get very high marks for history.” I didn’t get high marks for anything.
“I believe history is a circle, made by men who don’t learn from their mistakes. What do you think?” she said.
“I don’t know. We’re doing the Second World War. It’s pretty cool.”
“Pretty cool, eh? All those people dying? All that aggression and pain? I’d debate that it was cool,” she said. “This one is done. It’s been in for ages.”
She flipped one of the fish off the grass and onto a plate. I recognized the blue rim design of the plate from the Pancake House. She used a wooden skewer to get a cob of corn out of the pit and placed a packet of margarine beside it. “There you go, Daniel. The best breakfast at Leisure World, but don’t tell the chef at Café Rouge.”
“Thank you,” I said. But I didn’t begin to eat. I was looking at her face. At first I couldn’t be sure, because of the light, but it soon became clear: the bruise by her eye had got darker since yesterday. It had gone from greenish yellow to violet. Had someone hit her in exactly the same place? I looked down at the marks on her upper leg that I had taken for a rash; they were a deeper red now and shining, each dash longer. She pulled the hem of her hoodie down over the marks, and I looked up at her.
“Lexi, your eye has got worse, and —”
“Daniel. You have to be very careful when you talk to a girl about her appearance. You know, for the sake of politeness.”
“Your watch. Why does it tick backward?”
“It’s broken,” she said, piercing a fish with a carved wooden fork.
“So why are you wearing it? Anyway, when a digital watch breaks, it doesn’t go bloody backward.”
“Daniel,” she said, and paused. “It’s lonely out here. I like you. You’ve got good mindsight, and you’re a sensitive boy. But if we’re going to be friends, there are certain questions you’re going to have to swallow,” she said.
“But —”
“Don’t let your fish get cold.”
She passed me one of her wooden forks, and I stuck it in. The fish was delicious. Smoky and tender. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. Lexi was pushing her food around the plate, mashing up the fish. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked.
“I don’t need to eat, as it happens,” she said.
Oh, she’s one of those types, I thought. Although her legs and arms were powerful and athletic. But she picked up a big flake of fish and dropped it into her mouth.
“I eat for pleasure,” she said. “And for comfort.”
I smiled.
“Do you know what the bravest thing you could do as a Crow warrior was?” she said.
“Scalp someone?”
“No. It was something called a coup. You had to walk up to your enemy, touch him on the shoulder with a stick, and then run away. Now, that’s brave. Not a deadly weapon in sight. Sheer audacity! I can’t see any of your PlayStation warriors doing that.”
Neither could I.
“You wore an eagle feather in your hair for each coup you did. If you were injured in the attempt, you had to paint the feather red, which wasn’t considered as good.”
I nodded. “Well. They certainly cooked very tasty food,” I said.
“Fish with corn
on the cob is my favorite. My mum let me have it every year on my birthday, which might not sound like a big deal, but it is when you were born on Christmas Day.”
“You were born on Christmas Day?”
“Yep. We never had turkey in our house.”
“Where is your house? Are your parents here at the park?”
“Questions, questions. Let’s talk about you instead. Was that your dad getting smashed in the pancake place the other night?”
“If you don’t have to answer questions, neither do I,” I said.
“OK,” she said. Beads of water hung from the strands of her hair and shimmered in the light. It seemed that every time I looked at her face, I noticed another little scrape or bruise. A couple of bloody dots by her temple, a cut at the edge of her mouth.
“Yes. It was my dad,” I said, suddenly desperate to talk. “My mum left in September, and since then he’s been a lunatic. It’s embarrassing. If he isn’t drinking, he’s kicking something. If he isn’t doing that, he’s weeping over his bloody tomato plant.”
“Tomato plant, eh? A love substitute.”
“Yeah. And now he thinks this stupid holiday is a good idea. He thinks ‘time away’ is going to help. But it’s not time away if we’re both here, is it? I’m his problem, and he’s mine. So we’re just moving our problems somewhere else. Somewhere with no Wi-Fi.”
Lexi chewed her fish thoughtfully. “What sports are you good at?” she asked.
“I can juggle,” I said.
“Not really a sport, Daniel. What sports do you like, then?”
“I don’t like any!” I said.
“Wow. This is the wrong place for you, then, isn’t it?”
“I know.”
She smiled. “Come with me,” she said.
She slipped into a denim skirt, and we walked through the woods, toward one of the grassy banks along a secluded bike path. She wanted to gather some more grass for her cooking pit. It felt good just to walk with her, and it felt good to talk about the problems I was having. I had so many questions to ask her, though. I wanted to ask if she’d carved the numbers and letters on the tree, and if so, what they meant. I wanted to ask her what she was doing here and who was looking after her. Every time I tried to ask a question, she held up a finger, and I soon stopped trying.
She bent down on the bank and started pulling at the grass, tearing it up with her hands, and putting it in the pockets of her hoodie and her skirt. “You can help if you like, Daniel. Don’t be shy. It’ll grow back. Always does.”
I pulled at the grass. After a few moments, a cyclist came into view. Lexi stopped her work and waited. It was Ryan. “Hi, Ryan,” I said, eager to impress Lexi with my first-name knowledge of the park staff.
“Oh, hey, man,” he said, slowing down a little.
“Thanks for yesterday,” I said.
“What? Oh, no probs, dude. Any time. Fight the power, eh?”
“Yeah,” I said as he went past. I turned to Lexi. “That was Ryan.”
She smiled, and I looked down. We went back to picking the grass.
“It’s just you and your dad here, then?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Must be difficult for you. Having to be his son, and his friend, and — you know — basically his wife,” she said.
I laughed. “What?” I said, but I kind of knew what she meant. Dad had lost contact with all his friends because of the drinking, and without Mum in the house, I was sometimes the only person he spoke to all day.
“It’s a shame there’s no one else for him to hang around with,” she said.
It’s the same for me, I thought. But I didn’t say it because I wanted to appear concerned. Besides, I had her to talk to, didn’t I? I hoped I did.
“Hmm. Shame,” she said. “If he had some adult company, it’d sure take the pressure off you.”
I sneaked a look at her watch. I saw a minute change from 43 to 42. I shook my head. Then I remembered my appointment with Dad and looked at my own watch (a Swatch, with a canvas strap and two black hands). I was seriously late. “I have to go,” I said.
She scrunched her hair. “So do I,” she said. “But meet me back here tonight. We’ll do something wild.”
Dad had already left by the time I got to the tennis courts, so I walked the bike back to the cabin. I knew there’d be an argument, but part of me felt light, like the whole world was a joke. Chrissy and Tash were sitting on their front lawn, drinking tea. They said hello and I nodded, quickened my pace, and then stopped.
“Excuse me,” I said.
They both turned to look at me. “Yes, Daniel?”
“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” I said.
They looked at each other. “We haven’t decided,” said Chrissy.
Tash put her fingers on her chin and pretended to think hard. “Hmm. I know! Why don’t we participate in some sort of sporting activity?” she said.
“Why, Tash,” said Chrissy, “what a wonderful idea! However did you think of such a thing?”
They laughed.
“Would you like to play volleyball on the beach with me and my dad?” I said.
I had seen Dad play beach volleyball once, with a group of German men on the Costa del Sol. Mum and I had watched him join in. It had been a good day and couldn’t be ruined by hindsight.
“That sounds lovely. It’ll be a bit cold, though. We’re not going to wear those skimpy little bikinis, like they do in Brazil,” said Tash.
“That’s fine,” I said.
They both laughed.
Dad was sitting on the sofa when I walked in. He wouldn’t look at me. He had sucked in his lips, which meant he was disappointed. “Where were you?” I said, trying the oldest trick in the book.
“Don’t give me that,” he said. “I don’t ask for much, do I?”
You ask for everything, I thought. But I shook my head.
“It’s just a game of tennis,” he said. “It’s not the hardest thing in the world, you know.”
“I’m sorry. We were just riding around. Me and my mates,” I said. “I lost track of the time.”
“You’re a bad liar, Daniel. I can always tell.”
He was right about that. Did you see your mother with another man?
“You were with a girl, weren’t you?” he said.
“No,” I said.
“I can read all the signs. This moody behavior. Missing appointments with your family. Not enjoying life. All the classic signs. Trust me, I know.”
“Why are you asking me if you already know?”
“Maybe this whole trip was a bad idea. You don’t want to be here. Maybe we should just go home,” he said.
“No,” I said.
He snorted. “Yup. A girl. Well, take it from me, Daniel. Don’t waste your time.”
I started to walk toward my bedroom, thinking about what Lexi had said about the anger and the hate in men. About the desire.
“I don’t know why you have to be so miserable all the time,” I said.
“Oh, well, take a look around,” he said. “What’s to be so happy about? You leave me here, on my own, with a tomato plant and a pair of lesbians.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was just a little chuckle that burst out and then stopped. I looked up. Dad was smirking, too. He turned away and tried to hide it. “Tomato plant and a couple of lesbians,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“That should be the title of your autobiography,” I said.
He laughed.
“By the way,” I said, “I’ve arranged a game of volleyball with Chrissy and Tash for tomorrow on the beach.”
“Really?” he said. He frowned. “OK. Might be fun, I suppose. Bit cold.”
“I remember you playing when we were on holiday in Spain. You’re good.”
He looked out the window and into his past. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m all right.”
Dad went through to the kitchen area, and after a moment, I followed him, to get a dri
nk of water. He was staring, perplexed, at the tomato plant. “What the bloody hell . . . ?” he said.
I saw that the plant had changed again. The tomatoes had shrunk, their skin had tightened. Most of them were half green and half orange. 32, 31, 30, I thought. I knew then that there were forces in the world that I would never understand. Perhaps I didn’t want to understand them.
Dad and I went to the Tropical Dome. We swam separately, Dad for ten minutes before he got out and sat on the lounger with his cup of coffee. He wasn’t exactly happy, but we weren’t fighting. I swam deep into the main pool and started counting again, plugging my heartbeat into the rhythm of the strokes, imagining Lexi’s body folding under the water. The outside noises faded until I couldn’t hear anything but the rumble of my blood.
Flashes came to me of Lexi’s face, the marks on her temple, the soft blending rainbow of her black eye. There were boys back at school who liked that kind of thing: girls getting roughed up. They looked at pictures on their phones. I wasn’t one of those guys, and the thought of Lexi’s injuries tore into me; it felt like my stomach was bleeding. I pulled myself deeper into the water, until the images went away, and I felt a brightness around my body.
When I rose up out of that suspended state, I saw that the sky beyond the Dome was dark with storm clouds and rain was hitting the glass. I peered up through the palm leaves. The green on the gray. Steam rose up from the Jacuzzis. Over on the lounger, I saw Dad reach into his bag, take out a miniature bottle of whiskey, and pour a good glug into his coffee. He glanced around to make sure nobody had seen. Like a boy. I got out and put on my T-shirt.
“Easy, Dan,” said Ryan. “You certainly can move in the water, buddy. Serious.”
“Hi, Ryan, thanks,” I said. I’ve got a good teacher, I thought, picturing Lexi’s gliding strokes.
“Your dad OK today? I see he left his sneakers at home.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Hey, that was the girl I was talking about, by the way. When you saw me this morning.”
“What?” he said.
“This morning. When you rode past?”
“Yeah. Near the lake . . . ?”
“Yeah. I was with Lexi. The swimmer I was talking about.”
