Saving Sailor: A Novel

by Renée Riva

  She plans the food, the music, the theme, then invites half the world. She says only half of the world’s people know how to have fun; the other half are just put on earth for contrast.

  Her traditional party theme is A Tropical Island Paradise, and she insists everyone “dress accordingly.” Then she hires this wild-lookin’ jungle band to play steel drums and boogie music. The invitations go out two weeks ahead, so everyone has time to hunt up some grass skirts, muumuus, and plastic flower leis.

  The invites were the cause of Grandma Juliana’s recent urgency. She called Grandma Angelina to brag about her upcoming trip to Italy, knowing how jealous that should make her. But Grandma Angelina told Grandma Juliana that she could tell her all about it at the “kids’ party,” just to get her off of the phone. That’s when Grandma Juliana asked, “What party?”

  After last year’s disaster, my daddy banned Grandma Juliana from the guest list. She followed him around the entire party, blaming him for turnin’ her youngest daughter into a “Bohemian Jungle Woman.” She just couldn’t grasp the concept of pretend and whined about her “Little Sophia” becoming a disgrace to her Italian heritage by running around with a bunch of wild jungle animals for friends.

  Grandma Angelina, on the other hand, had a great time winning the limbo, which was pretty amazing for someone sixty years old.

  Once the cat was out of the bag and Grandma Juliana realized she wasn’t included this year, she declared a national family crisis. That was the day I drifted downlake. Of course my quick-thinkin’ mama told Grandma Juliana that she just knew how busy she must be plannin’ her trip to the Old Country and didn’t want her to feel obligated to come.

  Grandma Juliana thought it only fair that she be given the right to turn down the “Bohemian Monkey Party” on her own initiative. It only added to the grudge she already had for Grandma Angelina, but that is an ongoin’ lost cause anyway. As Mama always says about things like this, “Que sera, sera.”

  The best part of the whole bash is that everyone’s kids are invited too. By the time all the families show up, there are so many kids runnin’ around this island, it looks like the Planet of the Apes. The only thing I don’t like is havin’ to wear this dumb grass skirt over my bathin’ suit. Mama dressed me like one of those little hula dancers on the dashboard of cars, then propped me up next to a flaming torch to welcome the guests.

  I’m the official greeter. J. R. is in charge of tying up the boats and lightin’ the tiki torches. The twins are ice runners for when the ice runs out. They have to keep refillin’ the ice buckets all night long. Adriana offers each of the women a fresh flower for their hair. Of course she has worked on her own hair for hours and spent most of the day in front of the mirror decidin’ which side to wear her flower on. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to be available or not. One side means you are; the other side means you’re not. She will probably switch it back and forth all night—available for the cute guys, unavailable for the dorks.

  Oh my gosh. Speakin’ of dorks … here come the Gizmodes. I want to run and hide. They are one of those families that look like their name. There are three boys, who all think they are Greek love gods, as Adriana puts it. The two oldest try and outdo each other to impress her, and it just makes Adriana gag. The youngest one always comes after me.

  Last year, he chased me all around the island after his brother told him he’d give him a dollar if he kissed me. He never got it though ’cause I kicked him so hard in the shins he finally gave up. If he tries anything this year, I’m gonna sic Sailor on him.

  I’ve been practicing with Sailor all week, just in case. I took this old stuffed bunny and set it across the yard. Then I’d yell, “Sic’m Sailor,” and Sailor would charge across the yard and rip that rabbit to shreds. I’m almost hopin’ I’ll get to test him out on the Gizmode kid.

  The oldest boy is swankin’ his way over to Adriana right now. “Well, hello there,” he says, tryin’ to sound like Don Juan. “How about a traditional Hawaiian kiss?”

  I want to say, “This isn’t Hawaii, you idiot,” but Adriana saves me.

  “A. J., why don’t you show the Gizmodes to the obstacle course you and the boys were working on earlier?”

  Oh man, not me.

  Then Adriana winks at me, and I remember. “Oh, yeah, the obstacle course. Right this way, guys.” I make sure Sailor is right on my heels the whole time. The boys and me have been workin’ on games all day for all the kids, but we rigged the obstacle course especially for the ones who need some coolin’ off.

  I signal to J. R. to come over and help explain the course to the Gizmodes. Meanwhile the steel drums have started up, and people are beginnin’ to boogie. This is good. No one will be able to hear those Gizmodes screamin’ their heads off once we’re finished with them.

  J. R. starts to walk them through the course, explainin’ that we’ll be keeping time to see who completes the course the fastest. “A. J. will be at the finish line to clock your time,” he says.

  The Gizmodes insist they want to run it all together and that anything goes to stay in the race. J. R. and I smile at each other. This is even better than we expected; this way no one will have to miss out on the grand finale.

  I take my place at the finish, slowly lookin’ up at the fifty-five gallon drum of ice water that J. R. has carefully rigged overhead. A six-foot steel rod runs right through the drum and is secured into the tree. A long rope pulley is attached to the lip of the drum and dangles within an arm’s reach of me.

  The riggings all look to be in place and secure. I give J. R. a thumbs-up. Prepare for Operation Ice Bath.

  J. R. gives the signal: “Ready, set, go.”

  The Gizmode brothers are on their way. They have tires to climb through, balance beams to cross, high jumps and low jumps to make … and these guys are brutal with each other. They shove and push one another out of the way as hard as they can. A small crowd of kids has gathered to cheer them on. No one’s real sure which one to root for, since they are all equally weird. There’s just a lot of “go, go, go” goin’ on.

  After a rough romp through the forest, they are finally stumblin’ their way to the finish line. Luckily, all three are neck and neck with one another. Even Adriana and the twins have come to cheer them on to victory. It’s nice to know there are still certain things that unite our family. Putting the Gizmodes on ice is one of them.

  The instant they cross that finish line, J. R. pulls that rope with one quick jerk, and voilà, Operation Ice Bath is a success. We are all hootin’ and doublin’ over with laughter. Adriana leans toward me and whispers, “That oughta cool their jets for a while.” The funniest part is that the Gizmodes are laughin’ as hard as the rest of us. They really are a buncha kooks. At least we can’t get in trouble if they think it’s funny too. I don’t even think it counts as a sin when that happens.

  I make my way around to all the newcomers I’d missed while I was away at the races. Most of them are hangin’ out by the boogie band, just standin’ around. Then Mama steps in and gets them all goin’. Mama doesn’t believe that life should be a spectator sport and, boy, is she shinin’ tonight. She is in her element, as she calls it. She gets out there just a boogyin’ and twirlin’ her heart out. She’s wearin’ a bright orange flower in her hair and swingin’ a big tumbler of tropical punch in her hand. A tiny paper umbrella is stickin’ out of a chunk of pineapple with a cherry to boot, all lookin’ like Hawaii in a glass.

  It makes me happy to see Mama so happy. Daddy just stands back watchin’ it all with a smile.

  As soon as it starts to get dark out, a group of us kids gather under a tiki torch for a round of Truth or Dare. When it comes to my turn, I pick truth. You never want to get stuck with a dare at a party like this. The peer pressure is awful, and either way you end up lookin’ like a fool. So little Rodney Gizmode asks me, “What’s your greatest fear?”

  Well, duh, that’s easy. “Gettin’ stuck in the confessional at church.”

&nb
sp; After a bunch more dumb truth questions, we finally get someone to take a dare. The little kids don’t know better. It’s J. R.’s turn to give the dare.

  “Hold on,” he yells, and runs back to the cabin, returning with the megaphone my daddy uses to evacuate parks when there are park fires.

  J. R. takes everyone through the woods to the outhouse that all the party guests use. We all stake out about thirty feet behind it in some bushes. Then he takes the little kid right up behind the outhouse and hands him the megaphone. “What’s your name, kid?” J. R. asks.

  “Timmy,” he answers boldly, for someone who doesn’t know better.

  “Okay, Timmy …” J. R. begins to instruct him, but we can’t hear what he’s sayin’ from where we are. Then J. R. comes runnin’ back to our group and tells us all to “hush up.”

  A few minutes go by, then we see Flo, Mama’s hairdresser, go into the outhouse. Timmy is crouched down low behind the outhouse, directly behind the seat. J. R. waits until he thinks the timing is right, then gives Timmy the signal.

  Timmy sticks the megaphone along the bottom of the outhouse and yells, “H-e-e-l-l-p, I’ve fallen in. Get me out; it stinks down here.”

  Five seconds later, Flo comes flyin’ out of there, screamin’ at the top of her lungs, “Someone’s fallen in … someone’s fallen in—get Sonny.”

  As soon as we hear the name Sonny, we run for our lives down to the beach. We sit around the bonfire actin’ like we never heard a thing. J. R. has to stash the megaphone ’til the coast is clear for him to return it to the cabin. After things seem to calm down we make our way back to the party to check out the food. Mama has her traditional party pig twirlin’ over the BBQ pit with an apple stuck in its mouth. I have never seen anything so disgustin’ in my life. Grown-ups come up with some of the weirdest ideas if you let them do whatever they want. I start at the dessert table first and make my way through the line backward. If I’m gonna fill up on something, I’d rather fill up on desserts and be too full for the salads—and I’m goin’ nowhere near that pig.

  Everyone seems to be enjoyin’ themselves. Daddy’s startin’ to set up the limbo bar for after dinner. Adriana is surrounded by boys, all tryin’ to dance with her, sit by her, or eat with her. She doesn’t seem very interested in any of them. That’s a first for Adriana.

  I’m lookin’ around, takin’ it all in, when suddenly I see Danny. He’s not alone either. Right next to him, dressed in a floral muumuu, is his mother. Danny’s mama is back from Oklahoma.

  I run over and tell Mama that Danny’s mama has come. She puts down her dinner plate and goes to welcome her to the party. Adriana sees them and comes hurrying over. She asks if Jason came back too, but Danny says Jason stayed to help his dad with the farm. Adriana looks away, sad, then walks off by herself toward the beach. I think Jason means more to her than any of her other island guys.

  My mama takes Danny’s mama under her wing and leads her over to the food and drink table. Mama’s always been good with hurtin’ people. She treats them like I treat wounded birds. You have to be very delicate with them.

  “Your mama came back,” I say to Danny.

  “She left him,” Danny corrects me.

  We look at each other, and I can see the relief in his eyes. “Hungry?” I ask him.

  “Yeah,” he says, matter-of-fact.

  I take him over to join the feast. J. R. sees Danny and comes over and sits with us. He fills Danny in on all the good stuff he’d missed before he got there, like the Gizmodes and Truth or Dare. The way he told it, he had Danny laughin’. It was nice to hear Danny laugh again.

  Everyone was real glad to have Danny’s mama back. But Adriana never returned to the party once she found out that Jason didn’t come back. Here were all of these guys swarmin’ around Adriana all night, and the only one she wants is the one she can’t have.

  Danny and J. R. go runnin’ off somewhere, so I just wander around with Sailor, watchin’ everything that’s goin’ on. There must be about a hundred people at this bash, and they’re scattered all over the island. Most of the grown-ups are over by the jungle band and food tables. Kids are either playin’ the games we’d set up or down at the bonfire roastin’ marshmallows. But the one thing that brings everybody to the same place at the same time is the limbo.

  One problem. Daddy goes to look for his megaphone so he can round up all the guests. It’s still stashed in the bushes. I go runnin’ to tell J. R. and finally find him in a rock-skippin’ contest with Danny.

  “J. R., you’d better hightail that megaphone back to the cabin or Daddy’s gonna have your hide.” Daddy has already warned us that messin’ with government equipment is a federal crime and to be considered PBD: punishable by death. I hope he was kiddin’.

  J. R. is runnin’ as fast as he can when he almost runs right into Daddy on the way to the cabin. I come runnin’ up behind him to try and save his life. “Hey, Daddy, J. R. thought you might want to use the megaphone to round up the gang for the limbo.”

  Daddy looks at J. R., then at the megaphone, then at me. “Uh-huh,” he says, and reaches for the megaphone. He walks away, starin’ back at us with that look, and says, “PBD, J. R.”

  This may be the last night I’ll be seeing my brother on this earth.

  When we show up at the limbo, the music is in full swing, and the limbo line wraps around the band in a huge circle. For some reason, Flo isn’t joining in. She’s probably sittin’ over there wonderin’ if she’s lost her mind, hearin’ voices that aren’t there. Poor Flo. Must’ve been pretty nerve-rackin’ to bring Daddy all the way to the outhouse and not hear anyone yellin’ anymore. Maybe she thought he drowned by the time Daddy got there.

  The real problem here is that Daddy shouldn’t have any trouble figurin’ this one out. He’s the one who told us about this trick. He did the same thing to someone once himself.

  The limbo is my favorite event of the whole bash, next to watchin’ the Gizmodes get soaked. I’m just standin’ under the tiki torch, feelin’ the rhythm of the drums comin’ up through my feet and all the way out my ears. I can feel the ground move beneath my toes, and they start tappin’ on their own. My body starts to move to the beat like there’s no way it’s gonna hold still as long as those drums are playin’. I start boogyin’ through the line with everyone else, and they can’t hold still either. We are all movin’ like one long centipede around the band and under that limbo stick. Even if I wanted to stop, I’ll bet my feet would just walk off without me, and my body would shimmy away to follow. But I don’t want to stop. I think God put this rhythm inside of people so when we hear that music, we know just what to do without even takin’ lessons. I’ll bet He’s smilin’ down on us right now. I think He likes to watch His kids dancin’ around and havin’ fun. It’s nights like this I’m glad I have a mama who won’t settle for boring. And a God who makes the beat of the drums for us to dance to.

  17

  Mouth of Babes

  Catechism is taking a good long time to get over with. I’m sittin’ at this little desk writin’ all my sins on the desktop with the back of my eraser. This way, I’ll remember them all when I go to confession. That strikes me kind of funny because in a few minutes, when I go into confession, God really will erase them all for me. I’m picturing Him up there with this giant eraser and can’t help gigglin’ to myself.

  “Angelina?” Sister Abigail says real sweet. Does she always have to call me that?

  “Yes, Sister?” I answer.

  “Is there something funny you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

  “Ummm, not real …” Everyone’s lookin’ at me like they are dying of boredism; it makes me feel sorry enough for them that I decide to go ahead and share. “Well, yes, Sister, I was just writin’ all my sins down here on this desk with my eraser, and all of a sudden I thought of God with this giant eraser, and …”

  People are startin’ to give me funny looks, like they’re makin’ fun of my vision.


  “Never mind,” I say. “Y’all can just go back to bein’ bored.”

  “Class,” says Sister Abigail, “Angelina has a point here that I think we should all take to heart. Why do you think we go to confession anyway?”

  Jorgan Junker raises his hand.

  This should be good, since he’s got the longest list of sins ever known to man.

  “My grandpa says, if we die before we confess all of our sins, we’ll get a one-way ticket straight to hell. But if we go to confession, we can trade in our ticket for a ticket to heaven.”

  “Your grandpa’s an idiot,” Sam Starks yells.

  “Is not.”

  “Is so.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m not takin’ any chances,” Jordan yells back. “Can I go to confession now, Sister?”

  No way, buddy. You’re not goin’ before me again. While Sister Abigail is busy tryin’ to settle everyone down, I bolt for the door. I’m not waitin’ in there again for Jorgan Junker to trade in his ticket.

  For once I’m first in line. Lookin’ around I see J. R.’s class linin’ up behind ours. Sure enough, right behind J. R. is little Rodney Gizmode. It gives me the creeps just seein’ him again. My daddy has to work with his daddy, which is why we have to invite their family to our bashes. I’m just about to go into the confessional when I see Rodney whisperin’ something to J. R., and they both look over at me smilin’. Something is up, but I’ve gotta go in there and close that door behind me.

  Father Patrick is all ready to hear my confession first, which is a relief, ’cause the second I get out, I’m findin’ out what those two are up to. I finish up, feelin’ pretty good about my shorter-than-usual list of sins, and head for the door. I push on the little handle, but nothin’ happens. I push harder still, but it’s jammed shut. Then it hits me. J. R. and the Gizmode kid were both playin’ Truth or Dare at the bash when I told everyone my greatest fear.