Make Me Disappear

by Jennifer Wilson

  “Jane, how old are you?”

  A moment’s hesitation. Then,

  “Eighteen.”

  “You don’t really look eighteen to me. You got any ID?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, Jane, here’s the deal. I don’t know if you’re really eighteen. I should probably call social services to help you, but I can see by the look on your face that you’d rather me not.”

  This was an understatement. At the words social services, her expression changed from guarded to outright terrified. Her eyes darted to the door and back to his face. He spoke quickly.

  “I’m not going to call social services. But I have a proposition for you. Just hear me out, okay?”

  “Can I say no?”

  “Of course you can say no, what kind of a question is that?”

  She shrugged.

  “I have a boat. A sailboat. I do guided tours from the marina here for folks who want to see sunsets and dolphins; crap like that, you know?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, I need some help. I need a first mate. You ever been on a boat before?”

  She shook her head again.

  “Doesn’t matter. I can teach you easily enough. The sailboat, though; I live on it. You could too.”

  “Live with you?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. Not like that,” he said. “I mean, there’s plenty of room for two. Two beds. Two separate beds, okay?”

  She stood, still staring at him in that direct way, and he became acutely aware of the clock on the wall, marking the time with its absurdly loud ticking. The fear on her face was eclipsed somewhat by curiosity, which he took as a good sign.

  “Look, I don’t know why you should trust me, or why I should trust you, for that matter,” he said finally, trying to guess at what was going on in her mind. “Do you do drugs?”

  “No.”

  “Are you a thief?”

  “No.”

  “A felon?”

  Her eyes flickered to the ground before coming up again to gaze into his face.

  “No.”

  “Okay. I’m taking you at your word, y’know? And maybe you can take me at mine. I’m no rapist or murderer. I’m just a guy who needs some help on his boat. It’s fun work, but hard too. You’d have a place to stay, and some money in your pocket. What do you say?”

  “I want to talk to that woman.”

  “Gina?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” he said, shrugging. He opened the door to find Gina still standing beside it, waiting.

  “She says she wants to talk to you.”

  “Really? All right.”

  Entering the room, Gina smiled at the girl in a way that she hoped was encouraging.

  “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Who? Jake?”

  “Yeah, Jake. Is he…all right?”

  “If you mean, is he perfect, then no,” Gina said. “He’s got his issues. Wife died a while back, so he’s still trying to deal with that. He can be distracted, and distant sometimes. But if you mean, is he safe, then yes, he’s safe. He’s a good man. You’d be hard-pressed to find one better.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes.”

  She left and Jake came back in.

  “Any thoughts? I mean, if you need more time to think, that’s okay too. I just don’t want you running off again.”

  “I’ll do it,” she said abruptly. “Okay.”

  “Great!” he rose abruptly and stuck his hand out. Jane stepped back. “Oh hey, sorry; just thought we’d seal the deal with a handshake.”

  “Oh.” She stepped forward again and took his hand in her own. It was small and frail, but the handshake was firm, even powerful. Jake felt strangely elated.

  “Lemme just get some food for myself, and we’ll go check out Stella Luna together; sound good? You can get a shower and clean up.”

  Her hand went to her hair self-consciously. “Okay.”

  They sat together in a booth at the bar and grill while Jake ate his chicken fried steak. Noticing her hungry look, he offered her his sweet potato fries, which she made short work of.

  “You still hungry?” he asked when he was finished. “How about dessert?”

  He ordered the molten chocolate cake and when it came, pushed it across the table to her.

  “It’s not really my style,” he said. “Help yourself.”

  She devoured it. He liked watching her eat, as he rarely had seen anyone enjoy the simple act so thoroughly.

  When she was finished, Jake paid the bill and rose. From the bar, Gina smiled at them and waved.

  No more nighttime liaisons he realized with a start. Ah well…no good deed goes unpunished.

  He sighed.

  In the light of the streetlamps that lined the boardwalk, Jane stood, waiting for him to lead the way to her new home.

  Seven

  Mabel lay on her bunk in Stella Luna, listening to the soft lap of the waves against the hull. She could hear Jake Ennis snoring from his small room and the sound was strangely comforting. She felt safer than she had in months, and with her stomach full and her body clean, she should have been sound asleep long ago. Sleep, however, escaped her.

  The trip to Key West had not been without its hiccups. Mishaps, some may have called them, but she preferred to think of them as merely hiccups. One beefy truck driver had expected physical payment for his ride from Louisiana into Alabama, but she had pulled out her pocketknife and given him a run for his money. His groping hands would bear the scars for a long time, she hoped. Homeless men and women across the country had shared meals with her and shown her safe places to sleep, and for that she was grateful.

  She had started out with no real idea about where to run—only to get as far away from Oklahoma as she possibly could—but when a vagrant in Arkansas had waxed rhapsodic about the warmth of the Florida Keys, a powerful longing to see the ocean had come awake in her heart.

  Driving across the water on the Seven Mile Bridge with an elderly couple who had a soft spot for hitchhikers, she felt like she was flying into a vast blue world of untold wonders. A flock of pelicans had risen up next to them, winging their way south, and she had marveled aloud at their prehistoric beauty. The Gulf of Mexico surrounded her, embraced her, she felt, and she thought she might finally be home.

  The couple dropped her off at Smather’s Beach (the old woman slipping her a twenty before she climbed out of the Volvo), where she stood in awe of the endless sea before her. She had stripped off her shoes and socks and rolled up her cuffs to wade in the water, the clear, warm surf filling her land-locked soul with joy. She bought a meal of tacos from a food truck and felt suffused with peace as the grumbling of her stomach ebbed away. Surely, if luck was to be found, it would be found here.

  Being homeless in Key West, however, was a lot like being homeless everywhere else, she found, aside from its warmth and coastal vibe. Safe sleeping spots where you could lie down unbothered by the cops were rare, and already full. She heard from a street performer that there was a shelter with beds, but she avoided it at all costs for fear of social workers finding her there. Instead, she navigated her way to one of the many harbors and sought refuge in the alleys behind storefronts and restaurants. The bar and grill had some excellent leavings, and she parked herself there, thinking she would escape notice if she was careful.

  She had been wrong, of course, but now, lying in this bunk, feeling the gentle rock of the boat in the water, she wouldn’t say that she was sorry. She was hundreds of miles from Oklahoma and the dead Gail and the cursed room of mattresses, and she would do whatever she had to in order to keep things that way. She lay in the darkness, feeling the comforting weight of her pocketknife in her hand as she slowly opened and closed it. She wouldn’t go back, not ever. She would die first.

  Eight

  Jake was a patient teacher, and Mabel was a quick learner, which, altogether,
made for rapid progress on the boat. He taught her the difference between the mainsail and the jib, the bow and the stern, the rudder from the keel. She learned how to tie the sails down properly, a figure eight knot from a bowline knot, which lines went to what, and to always—always—watch out for the boom. She was surefooted and able as a mule in the Grand Canyon, and not the least bit given to motion sickness, much to Jake’s relief.

  Their first foray out with customers took place three days after she had come aboard Stella Luna, and she fetched refreshments and made conversation like a seasoned cruise director, awkward only when asked about herself. After a few such encounters, Jake had a thought.

  “Jane, why don’t we just say you’re my niece?” he suggested. “It might save you some trouble when it comes to questions about your past.”

  This she latched onto readily, fabricating a story that became more elaborate with each telling. She was his niece, she said. Her father was Jake’s brother John. She was from Miami originally, and had taken a gap year to learn about sailing. She planned to go to college and study marine biology eventually, but for now, she was just having fun. No, she didn’t have a boyfriend. No, she didn’t want one. She told the story so easily Jake almost believed it himself.

  For Mabel, each day was a glorious new adventure. When they were out on the water, nothing could touch her. She felt as free as the fish beneath them, and twice as fortunate. Her first glimpse of dolphins and she was as thrilled as the passengers, her face lighting up and transforming the practiced mask of indifference she usually wore for safety. Jake was charmed by it, and told her so over dinner.

  “Shut up,” she said, blushing furiously.

  “I will not,” he answered with a smile. “You’re a beautiful girl, Jane. Surely you know that already.”

  “No,” she answered. “I have stringy hair and pale skin and plain brown eyes and no eyebrows. How can I be beautiful?”

  “Eyebrows do not dictate beauty,” he answered. “And you’re taking on more color every day, I might add. You’ll be brown as me in no time.”

  The first thing she did with her earnings was to get her fine hair cut into a pixie, a style that framed her delicate features and gave her even more of a fairy-like appearance than before. Again, Jake was struck by the dichotomy of that face, and marveled that it could look so aged and yet so youthful at once.

  She also bought a bikini, a sporty two-piece in a vibrant shade of orange, which she proceeded to wear under her clothes so as to be ready for a dip at any given moment. When they anchored offshore to let the passengers swim, she jumped in with them, demonstrating proper snorkeling style and playing with any youngsters who happened to be along. She was a natural, Jake thought, and blessed the fates that had allowed her to come to him.

  Nine

  Mabel awoke with a start.

  Someone was calling her name.

  “Jake?” From the next room, she heard an unintelligible mumble, the sound of him rolling over in bed, and then silence.

  She pushed off the bunk and stood uncertainly in the darkness.

  Mabel

  The call drifted through the air as clearly as the sound of crickets that sang to one another in the night. She stepped forward and put her hand on the door, unlocking it and slowly walking up the steps to the deck.

  The moon was full and riding high, its face reflected in the shimmering water.

  Mabel

  The sound seemed to come from all around, and though she searched the darkness for a figure, she could see no one there, neither on the boats beside her nor among the buildings of the marina, looming shadowy and ominous before her.

  Her skin prickled and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. As far as her eye could see, there were only boats, their masts like so many bare trees stretching up to the sky, and stars that went on forever in the endless black.

  Mabel

  A sudden thump caused her to spin around, the boat shuddering slightly beneath her. She made her way to the stern, gazing into the dark water below but seeing nothing. Leaning out, she hung onto the railing, peering down, and caught sight of something large and white rising up through the murk as she stood, transfixed.

  The white object broke the surface of the water, and rolled over. With a gasp of horror, Mabel saw that it was a naked body, bloated and grotesque, with long hair that spread out around the head like a dark halo. The arms and legs splayed outward and the belly and breasts bobbed above the rest, face just submerged. Mabel could not find her voice, could not summon her vocal chords to cry out for help, to call for Jake to come. She was paralyzed, watching.

  Mabel

  The eyes in the swollen face snapped open. With swiftly dawning horror Mabel realized that the thing was Gail, staring at her from beneath the water, a slow smile spreading across the distended features. One turgid hand reached for a rope that dangled from Stella Luna and gripped it tightly, pulling. The ship swayed as the corpse began to climb, hand over hand, upward.

  Mabel turned to run. Hitting a patch of water on the deck, however, she slipped, fighting to maintain her footing, but fell hard. Something cold and wet gripped her ankle with a fearsome strength, dragging her backwards towards the edge of the sailboat. She grabbed frantically for something to hold onto but there was nothing but the smooth surface of the deck, the nearest cleat just out of reach.

  She held the railing as she was pulled halfway off the boat, the thing holding her ankle with all its sodden weight, but just as her strength gave out and she was pulled beneath the surface of the black water, she found her voice.

  Mabel screamed.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Jake asked her, over breakfast the next morning.

  Mabel shook her head. Talking about it, she suspected, would somehow give it strength to come back again. This, she did not want.

  “I never heard anybody scream like that before,” he said, impressed. “It’s a wonder you didn’t wake up the entire marina.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good.” She shivered even though the air was balmy and the temperature was hovering around seventy-five degrees. Jake looked at her with no small amount of concern as she held her coffee mug with trembling hands.

  “Jane…” he started. She looked up at him with her dark and inscrutable eyes. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? Are you going to be okay with the customers today, or would you like to sit this one out? You could help Gina around the restaurant, maybe.”

  Mabel nodded slowly.

  “Sit here. I’ll go talk to her.”

  Jake found Gina in her office, and closed the door behind him before sitting down in the tattered leather chair across from her. She looked at him quizzically from over the top of her reading glasses.

  “I was wondering if Jane could stay with you today,” he said.

  “Really? Why?”

  “She had a bad dream last night; woke me up with her screaming. Surprised you didn’t hear it.”

  “I always sleep with my sound machine on,” she said, setting down the paper she was perusing. “But it sounds like it must have been a doozy.”

  “She was screaming No, No at somebody. Somebody named Gail, or something like that,” he said, rubbing his scruff thoughtfully. “Never heard anybody sound so scared. She won’t talk about it now, though. Anyway, I thought maybe she could take a break from working for me for a day. Maybe help you out around the kitchen or something.”

  “She can do that. Or maybe she just needs a day off to knock around town, see a movie maybe. Something a normal kid would do, you know? She can ride my scooter. Maybe she’d like that.”

  Jake hadn’t thought of that, he realized, feeling stupid that he had yet to give his first mate a day of rest.

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll talk to her.”

  Jane was sitting, staring into the distance, coffee cup empty, her plate of bacon and eggs untouched and c
ongealing before her.

  “How about a day off?” Jake asked. “Take some of your hard-earned cash and see a movie, or do some retail therapy for a while. Would you rather do that? Gina says you can borrow her Vespa.”

  She looked down at her food and was silent. Finally, she sighed and nodded.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay. Are you going to eat, or no?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s go then.” Jake paid the tab and they walked back to Stella Luna. In a moment Mabel had gathered her cash and stuffed it into the pocket of her cargo shorts. Standing on the deck watching Jake take stock of his supplies, she felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t go. Are you sure you’ll be all right?” she asked.

  “I’m sure,” he said. “We’ve only got two gigs today. I’ll be all right.”

  “Okay.” She said without moving. She felt there were eyes upon her from everywhere, and the urge to dart below deck and stay there forever was strong. Still, she knew this was unreasonable. She stepped onto the dock and walked to the bar and grill, stopping to wave at Jake before disappearing around the corner.

  The February day was beautiful and bright, without a cloud in the clear blue sky, the temperatures hovering in the upper seventies. As Mabel strapped the helmet on and fired up the engine of Gina’s scooter, she felt a surge of wellbeing overtake her previously dark mood. It was just a nightmare, after all, she thought. Just a stupid dream.

  She motored two blocks down and took a right onto Eaton Street, merging carefully with traffic and thrilling at the feel of the wind on her face. John had had a moped, and he had occasionally let her drive it around the block. The scooter was not too different from that, and her memories were all pleasant ones as she drove down the street to Whitehead.

  She had no real idea about where she was going, but she had an excellent sense of direction and wasn’t worried about getting lost. Taking a left, she passed bars and restaurants, motels and hotels. The sidewalks were crowded with street venders hawking their wares, tourists shopping for souvenirs, and buskers of all kinds performing for loose change.