My First Love and Other Disasters

by Francine Pascal

  “Head into their boat,” I shout to Jim, “and I’ll try to jump in.”

  “Take the line with you!” he calls to me as I crawl along the side of the boat up to the bow.

  I take a line and wrap it around my waist. I don’t even know why or how it’ll help, but it seems like a good idea. I turn back to Jim and he’s nodding his head yes. It must be right.

  We head in toward the dinghy and I set myself to leap. I have no sneakers. It’s slippery. I don’t have a life preserver and I’m scared to death. But I have to get to those kids because if I don’t do it fast they’re going to be in the water.

  Our boat’s coming in closer. I can’t wait too long to jump because one big wave can take us past their boat in a second and then we’ll have to make an entire turn, which could be too late.

  The little dinghy is still pretty far away but I’m so afraid of another wave that I let it come only a tiny bit closer and make my leap.

  It’s got to be the biggest jump I ever made in my life. I feel like I’m flying, and then I hit their deck and slide right into the mast. I made it!

  In two seconds I’m in the cockpit and I’ve got both kids down with me and I undo the line around my waist and wrap it around the mainsail cleat. There’s a jerk and we go flying after the bigger boat. We’re attached.

  Meanwhile, Barry’s got the line around Mr. Landry and he’s hanging on to the side of our boat.

  “I’m going to bring him over to my boat,” he shouts up at us. “You’ll tip if we try to get in.”

  And with his arm under Mr. Landry’s chest, he gets him over to the speedboat. Mr. Landry looks so limp it’s scary, but I tell the kids everything’s okay, he’s going to be fine.

  Barry and Jim manage to get Mr. Landry into the boat, and he collapses into a heap in the cockpit. Jim doesn’t lose anytime getting us out of there, and even though it takes us almost an hour to get back to the pier and we’re sitting in waist-high water we’re dumb enough to feel that we’ve made it. In fact we’re all smiling. Even Jim.

  Wouldn’t you know it, just as we’re getting in, the rain stops and it’s practically calm by the time we reach the pier. It probably looks like the whole thing was a snap.

  The pier is jammed with people. Practically all of Ocean Beach is down at the docks. Cynthia is right in front and she’s crying and laughing, and when we hand the kids up she nearly devours them with hugs and kisses. David will be complaining about that for the next month.

  Even Mr. Landry isn’t in as bad shape as I thought. They have to help him on to the pier and he looks weak and exhausted, but he can stand on his own two feet. Not so steady, but he’s standing.

  I dread the moment when Cynthia calms down and sees me and Mr. Landry. I can tell Mr. Landry dreads it too. Everybody is jumping around and making a big fuss, and even the Coast Guard is there. They’re using walkie-talkies and calling in all their boats, and it turns out they even had helicopters out looking for us. And everybody wants to know what happened and everyone’s talking at once so nobody knows what actually happened, but we’re all happy and smiling and exhilarated.

  Barry and I try to help Mr. Landry because he really is wobbly. The kids see us and run to him. “Grandpa! Grandpa!” they both shout and start pulling him by the hand and hugging him.

  Cynthia just stands there looking at him. God! This is going to be horrendous.

  The kids keep pulling at Mr. Landry, and he keeps shaking his head no and urging them to go along with their mother and saying he’ll catch up later.

  All the time Cynthia just keeps staring at him. I can’t believe she’s going to be so mean to that poor old man.

  “Henry,” she finally says, and you can’t tell from her tone if it’s good or bad.

  “Hello, Cynthia,” Mr. Landry says, and you can see he’s really embarrassed and very uncomfortable. He mumbles something about how it turned out to be quite a mess and how he’s really sorry for it, but the kids cut him off, shouting how he’s the best sailor in the whole world.

  “Oh, Mommy,” David says, “you should see how Grandpa steered the boat even with those big waves and he wasn’t afraid of anything. Right, Grandpa?”

  “Well, David,” Mr. Landry says, “now that it’s over I gotta admit it was a little hairy there for a while, but you and your sister were so brave I knew we’d make it.”

  “We were scared when you fell off, Grandpa,” DeeDee says, hugging his legs. “I was crying, and you were too, David.”

  “You fell overboard?” Cynthia asks, horrified.

  “I was not crying,” David says, sounding like his old self.

  “You were too,” DeeDee says.

  “Well,” he says, “that’s only because it was Grandpa and I thought he was going to drown and that’s why.”

  Cynthia stands there with her mouth open while Barry tells her the story of how Mr. Landry climbed up on top of the boat and hung off trying to reach him and how he’d slipped. Barry leaves out the whole part about how he saved Mr. Landry’s life.

  But Mr. Landry puts that right and shakes Barry’s hand and thanks him and then hugs him and everybody smiles and it’s hero time and you should see Barry’s face. Is it red!

  Cynthia keeps watching Mr. Landry, and there he is with the kids hanging off him, dripping wet and looking sort of frail and really old, and finally she comes over to him and puts her arm around his shoulder and says, softly, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “Thanks,” Mr. Landry says, smiling, and all the time his eyes are full of tears. “I’m sorry, very sorry, Cynthia . . . and you, too”—and he looks at me very apologetically, except he can’t remember my name—“uh . . . mother’s helper . . . very sorry for what I did . . .”

  “Forget it, Henry,” Cynthia says before I can say anything. “I was a fool to tell you to stay away from your own grandchildren. I don’t know what I thought I was accomplishing.” Then she stands back and looks at him. “What a mess! We have to get you into some dry clothes.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” he says. “As soon as I get back to the city—”

  “Are you kidding? You’re not going back to the city like that.”

  “Sure I am, it’s not so bad. A little damp here and there.”

  “Henry,” she says, “I’m not going to hear another word. You’re coming back to the house with us, and we’re going to round up some clothes for you, and you’re going to take a good rest—for about a week.”

  “A week!” DeeDee exclaims. “Whee!”

  “Hey, that’s neat,” says David. “We can do lots more fishing.”

  “Well, Cynthia,” Mr. Landry says, and you can see he’s so close to tears he can hardly talk, “if . . . you’re sure . . .”

  “I am absolutely sure, Henry, absolutely.” And she gives him a hug and a big smack-type kiss on the cheek. The kids are jumping up and down, out of their heads with joy. Mr. Landry is all smiles.

  Me too. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything else bad happening to that old man.

  “I think we all deserve a little celebration,” Jim pipes up. “How about it? A drink for the heroes.” And then he looks at me. “And for the heroine.”

  “Hooray for the heroine!” Barry shouts, and now my face gets all red.

  Barry asks everyone to be quiet, and then he tells how I jumped across to the dinghy to get to the kids before they fell in and he makes it sound like Wonder Woman at work. When he finishes everyone says, “Hooray!” and I think I’m going to the of embarrassment.

  I don’t believe this whole scene, but I have to admit it feels great.

  “Thank you,” Cynthia says to me, “for what you did . . . for all of us.” And she looks like she’s going to cry, and I feel like I am too.

  “I’m really sorry, Cynthia,” I say. “You were right to be angry with me. If I didn’t go against you, none of this would have happened.”

  “Maybe not,” she says, “but the more I think about it the more I feel the mistake was mine. I made
a bad decision and expected you to carry it out. It wasn’t fair to you, to the kids . . . to anyone.”

  “All along I felt bad about doing it behind your back,” I say to her. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Well, when you think about it,” she says, “blindly following a bad decision is a lot worse.” Cynthia looks really pleased with me and I feel terrific.

  It’s turning out to be a sensational day and I feel proud. I hope it doesn’t show too much in my face.

  “You should feel proud,” Cynthia says, smiling at me.

  There goes my see-through face again.

  “How about it?” Jim says. “Should we head for The Monkey?”

  “Not me,” Barry answers. “I just want to get home and get these wet clothes off. If you want to come with me”—and he looks mainly at me—“I can offer you some iced tea.”

  “I’ll pass on the iced tea, thanks anyway,” Jim says, and then turns to me. “How about it? You want to hit The Monkey for a while?”

  He’s asking me. Jim actually wants me to come with him. All my plotting and planning, all that’s happened, finally pays off. I can’t believe it.

  “Thanks,” I tell him, actually both of them, “but I think I should go home with the kids. After what they’ve been through today I think I should stick with them.”

  “Sure thing,” Barry says. “You have a raincheck for anytime you want.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him, “and thanks for helping me. Both of you. It would have been a disaster if you both hadn’t been so together.” But I’m looking directly at Barry as I say it.

  Then Cynthia thanks them both and Mr. Landry thanks them again and Cynthia thanks me again and this could go on forever except, thank goodness, DeeDee starts jumping around a lot saying she has to make pee-pee and everyone laughs and we all start back.

  All five of us tramp into the house, all wet and sandy, and the phone is ringing. David picks it up.

  “It’s your mommy,” he says and hands it to me.

  This is going to be rough.

  Seventeen

  I’m out in rough water swimming as hard as I can to reach a buoy that keeps moving and bobbing away from me. I’m just about to grab it when something small and soft slides into my hand and pulls at it. I think it’s a fish and try to get my hand away, but the little something holds tighter and tighter. I jump up and, of course, I’m in my bed and the little fish is DeeDee, who stands there at the side of my bed, holding my hand and grinning her cute smile with the missing teeth.

  “Oh, God, DeeDee, not yet,” I moan, covering my face with the pillow. I feel her creeping under the covers, and I know sleep is hopeless. She’s like a jumping bean in bed.

  “Where are the hands?” I ask the same question every morning.

  “The big hand is on the twelve and so’s the little one.”

  “Can’t be,” I tell her.

  “How come?”

  “Because then it would be twelve o’clock.”

  “Oh.”

  “Go look again, okay?” And she runs down the steps while I hide back under the covers. Something about the day feels strange. DeeDee comes back all out of breath.

  “Now, little cookie, where is the big hand?”

  “On the one.”

  “That sounds right, now what about the little hand?”

  “It’s stuck on the twelve.”

  Crazy! I bend over the side of my bed and look out of the window. It does look different and it’s noisier, and I think DeeDee’s right. It’s twelve. I can’t believe it. The little monsters let me sleep till noon.

  I jump out of bed, almost knocking my head on the ceiling. I’ll never learn.

  “What happened?” I ask DeeDee. “Where is everyone?”

  “Everybody’s sleeping except me and you. Was your mommy mad at you last night?”

  Oh, she must have heard me on the phone with my mother.

  “Well, she was a tiny bit angry at first,” I answer. More like out of her head furious, but I don’t tell DeeDee that. For a full five minutes my mother did a nonstop number on how my not staying alone overnight had been the most important condition of the job and how could I completely disregard their rules? Obviously I was too young for such a responsible job. Then she went into how I probably shouldn’t be out there all by myself and was working herself up to how maybe Cynthia ought to look for someone else, and somewhere in there she had to stop for breath, and that’s what I was waiting for.

  I started talking and told the story right from the beginning. When I came to the part about Mr. Landry visiting the kids and how they were almost lost in the storm, she was stunned. Then Cynthia got on and told her how I jumped in the boat and saved the kids.

  I love to hear the story even though it changes every time someone else tells it. Naturally it gets better.

  My mother was very impressed, and then we had to wait while she recounted it all to my father, and then I got back on the phone and they asked me a million questions about the rescue and everything.

  In the end they understood. My father agreed that there were extenuating circumstances and mostly I had made some good choices and they were very proud of the way I handled myself in an emergency.

  “But please, Victoria,” my mother ended up saying, “next time you get in over your head, remember we love you and care about you, and all you have to do is call us and we’ll help you.”

  So it ended up that they were pleased and proud of me, and when your parents feel that way about you nothing can be too wrong with the world.

  “Anyway, DeeDee,” I say, and give her a kiss on her tiny nose, “they’re going to come out and visit us this Sunday.”

  She loves that idea and when I tell her they’re going to bring her a surprise she can’t wait.

  “Can we go to the beach today?” she asks, folding up my pj’s until they’re practically small enough to put in my wallet and then stuffing them under my pillow. She’s a terrific help.

  “Sure thing. Right after we eat.”

  “Is he going to come?”

  “Who?”

  “The boy in the living room.”

  “What boy in the living room?”

  “The one from yesterday,” she says.

  Can’t be. But it has to be. DeeDee doesn’t play tricks like that. “Why,” I ask, “didn’t you say something before?” I guess I sound sort of aggravated because she screws up her face as though she’s going to cry and says, “You didn’t ask me.”

  “You’re right. I forgot.” And I give her a hug.

  “I love you, Victoria,” she says and gives me a big wet kiss on my cheek.

  “I love you, too,” I say and hug her again. I think she’s getting to be less of a monster. I hope.

  When the love scene finishes, I ask her which boy is in the living room.

  “The big one,” she answers. No help. To her, both Jim and Barry are big. But I know it has to be Barry because Jim wouldn’t come here. That’s not like him to just pop in. He’s sort of a big-shot type, and I know he’d expect me to meet him somewhere or better yet come over to where he was. It must be Barry. Great. Maybe he’ll come to the beach with us. He’d probably be wonderful with the kids. Then I let my mind dance around a little. What if it’s Jim? I guess that’s like all the dreams I had coming true—and on my terms too. What a thought!

  I send DeeDee downstairs to tell whoever it is I’ll be there in a second, and then I race down to the second floor bathroom and brush my teeth, wash up, and comb my hair the best I can. Nice, if you like rat tails.

  I take my time walking down the bottom flight of steps. Can you imagine if it really was Jim? That would be like saying he was very interested in me. What a fantastic summer this could be! The three of us could hang out together. Jim, me, and Barry. You know, I really like Barry a whole lot now that I’ve got to know him better. I probably like him even more than I like Jim. But that’s not the point. My feelings for Jim are completely different.

 
I hear DeeDee regaling whoever it is with a wonderful tale of how my mother was angry with me last night but now she’s not and did he know that when she, DeeDee, wakes me up in the morning sometimes I curse?

  I move a little faster. God knows what else she’ll decide to tell him.

  No question about it. I want Jim Freeman to be standing in that living room. My luck, it’ll be Steven.

  But it isn’t. It’s Jim. Excellent!

  “Hi,” I say, smiling like crazy.

  “Hey.” He smiles back. “You snuck up on me. I was listening to some very interesting stories.”

  “Oh, God, DeeDee, don’t you dare.” And I pretend to be horrified. I know I told you he was handsome, but I think he got even better looking overnight. The sun has put white streaks in his straight blond hair and turned his skin this absolutely fantastic apricot color. He’s positively gorgeous. The kind of person people turn around and stare at.

  “Come on, DeeDee.” He picks her up in the air and she squeals with delight. “You and I have a few things to talk about.”

  “No, you don’t,” I laugh. “DeeDee, don’t you tell him a thing.”

  “Oh, yes,” he says, and we play this back and forth, and DeeDee loves it, but I can see she’s trying like crazy to come up with something, so I cool it because she really could produce a few beauts.

  I take DeeDee into the kitchen and set her up with a tuna sandwich, and when I come back into the living room Jim is sprawled out on the couch looking through the sports section of the Times. So far he hasn’t said why he came by. As soon as he sees me he puts the paper down and says, “So what do you want to do today?”

  Like a dummy I answer, “I don’t know . . . I have the kids you know.” I guess with Jim the terms have to be his.

  “Are you stuck with them all day?”

  It’s a funny thing, but I haven’t been feeling my usual uptight heart-racing kind of thing with him today. In fact something’s bothering me but I don’t know what it is.

  “If you put it that way, I guess so.”

  “That’s okay. Why don’t we all go down to the beach this afternoon? I know where I can get a kite. I bet the kids would love that.”