Be True to Me

by Adele Griffin

  Oh, but here it was again, the body-lurching, wobbling lift of a roller coaster, that airborne sensation of once again being so near Gil, and also knowing how easily I could fall, spiraling, into the shameful emptiness of losing him.

  Because, after all, tonight had not been our night. Gil had barely shown up for it. Fritz—even in her absence—had broken this night into a hundred fragments.

  And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Weeze and Carp move onto the dance floor, attempting to work through the beats of an old-fashioned dance they both seemed to have mostly forgotten. Weeze looked up and caught my eye. Not knowing what else to do, I gave a little wave—everything’s fine now, look, I found Gil—but it wasn’t another moment before Carp saw us, too, and detached from Weeze to stride toward us, his face rigid.

  “Young man.” Carp clapped a hand on Gil’s shoulder, putting a stop to everything. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “Uncle Carp, I’m so sorry.” Gil was the picture of calm politeness, his fingers still light on my waist. “I never thought I’d be gone that long, and know I’ve disappointed you . . .” In the next instant, they’d both stepped away, moving swiftly to stand on the sidelines, apart from the crowd.

  Gil’s back was turned, shutting me out of his apology and explanation.

  In the next second, Weeze had joined them, and their conversation closed into a tight fist of privacy.

  Awkwardly, I edged off the dance floor. One step closer to them, then another, until I could hear Carp’s voice, saturated with frustration. “But why in God’s name would you leave at all?” His voice, loud, clattering up the space so that other people turned, as Weeze put her fingers to her lips and shook her head.

  Gil kept his own tone quiet when he answered. I strained to hear. “. . . and Fritz was upset . . . when I followed her . . . the ocean . . . lost an oar, couldn’t get to her . . . but it’s okay, Jean saw . . .”

  “I haven’t seen Fritz tonight,” Weeze declared emphatically. “And I’ve been watching. How upset was she? Would she do something dramatic, like go to Bay Shore?”

  Gil glanced over at me. “Jean saw her . . .”

  Heated prickles worked down my spine. This would be awful, but I had to say something. How could I not? And the quicker I confessed, the quicker it would be over. I stepped forward.

  “ . . . but the bottom line is you let me down,” Carpie was storming. “What are we supposed to think, when you’re gone for hours and you haven’t met any of my guests who’ve come in specifically for this evening!”

  “And what does Fritz have to say for herself?”

  Carpie waved off Weeze’s words. “The girl is none of my concern. We need to figure out if we can repair some of this night, and introduce—”

  I broke in. “Excuse me, but I think I should say that I didn’t see her.” My voice felt as if it snipped sharp and ragged into the conversation, just as “Young Americans” ended and the band stopped to take a break.

  Gil looked at me. “What?” His voice was incredulous. “You told me.”

  “I mean, I can’t be sure . . .” Three pairs of eyes were suddenly fixed on me. I’d only wanted that one moment. That one dance. A single hallucinatory flashback to that perfect New York evening. Was it really too much to want?

  My rib cage hurt with each breath. But I stepped closer, into my guilt.

  “Jean, you said you saw her,” said Gil. “You said you were sure.”

  “I know, but I can’t help but wonder, now, if it wasn’t one of the younger girls I saw? Because some of the Minnows did a dock jump earlier tonight. They were all running around in wet clothes, and Melinda Hasty always wears French braids and tonight Fritz had French braids in her hair and . . .”

  “So—wait—you didn’t see her?” Gil looked aghast. “But you told me. You said that you did!” As if his repeating it would make it true.

  “Yes, I know. I’m not—”

  “We’ve got to call the Coast Guard.” Gil’s voice turned forceful. “Uncle Carp, she might be out there in the water. This is an emergency.”

  “The Coast Guard?” I repeated. “Why? Was she out too far? Was there a problem? Was she hurt?” Questions I maybe ought to have asked ten minutes ago, when I’d first seen Gil. I didn’t want to think about it.

  “I’ll go find Marcy,” said Weeze, slipping away.

  “Jean, I did tell you that I never saw her come in!” Gil practically barked the words at me. His face was ashen but scathing. “For God’s sake, you gave me your word!” His hands gripped his head, as if forcing himself to think it through. “Okay, okay. We can radio this.”

  “Yes, yes.” Carp nodded. “We’re right by the bay. We’ll send a distress signal from one of the boats.”

  “I don’t think I realized . . . ,” I began, but everyone had scattered. I had a needling sense of being stared at; when I looked behind me, it was only Bertie. I shook my head; if he’d been a cat, I would have shooed him. As it was, my ignoring him wasn’t enough.

  “Jean, what’s going on?”

  “Fritz O’Neill’s gone missing. She and Gil went out on a boat earlier, and she jumped off, and he couldn’t get to her, and he doesn’t know when she made it back to shore, or if she did, or where she is now.”

  “When she made it or if she made it?” The frankly panicked look that crossed Bertie’s face scared me.

  “No doubt she’s fine,” I snapped.

  “But Gil thinks she might be out on the water alone? Still?”

  “He was hoping she came back to the party.” Explaining it, I could feel the oxygen in my body shorting out a little. Would I be directly blamed for this? My only known crime was confusion—I’d thought I’d seen her! I was sure for a second I’d seen her! I just maybe hadn’t spoken my doubts soon enough. But I was only accountable for what I hadn’t done when I should have done it. “They were supposed to meet up at Ocean Park, but she didn’t show. Funny thing, you know, I thought she was around, earlier.”

  “Really? I most certainly haven’t seen her,” said Bertie, “and I’ve been on watch for her ever since she ran out of the library and Gil took off after her.”

  Of course Bertie had been on watch for everything that had happened with Gil and Fritz and me tonight. Everyone knew how Bertie felt about me. I knew it, too. Even if it had been easier to pretend I hadn’t understood or hadn’t been aware.

  “What happened? Did they get separated on the water? Why were they out there, anyway?”

  “Bertie, how would I know?” Bertie winced at the slap in my voice, but he stayed on my side. I was slightly relieved—Bertie had been upset with me all night, and now he’d melted back to his usual support role, right when I needed him.

  If Fritz had gotten lost in the ocean, it would be Bertie who would assure everyone that it wasn’t my fault. Maybe a little tiny bit my fault, but not in a malicious, terrible way.

  Gil was everywhere at once. The story caught like a fire, burning through the party. It wasn’t long before panic had set in, curling and smoking up the edges of all conversation, the danger of possible catastrophe more real by the moment. I wished I could block my ears and run home to safety. I felt trapped, like the chained monkey in that awful story, forced to endure the whole night through to its disastrous end.

  I had really, really thought I’d seen Fritz! I could hear my own voice, defending myself. But nobody was asking me about her. Not yet, anyway. Search parties were being assigned, areas divided. I stayed near Gil, who seemed to be the center of everything.

  “How are we looking, boatwise?” asked Mr. Tulliver. “If she’s out there, every minute she doesn’t show up here is another minute lost.”

  “Oh my God. If she’s out there.” Julia sank, deflated, against her mother.

  “Coast Guard’s got four boats in now,” said Gil. “They’re twenty minutes from putting a helicopter up. They want us to keep searching land.”

  “Remember that it’s Fritz,” said Tiger. “Sh
e’s a sensible chick. If she knew the tide was changing, she’d swim back to shore immediately. Maybe she went the other way, to Cherry Grove.”

  “Maybe.” Gil looked so unsure.

  “We’re gonna check all up and down Bay Walk.” And because Bertie and I were standing right there, and because it seemed as if that’s what Tiger had meant by “we,” it felt natural for Bertie and me to tag along with Tiger.

  “Fritz wasn’t in any frame of mind to just go hang out in Ocean Bay tonight and see a movie,” Bertie said, as we all found bikes. When I looked down, I saw that my dress was crushed and watermarked from dancing with Gil. I was like Cinderella after midnight, my ball gown magically changed back into a messy, mottled-green watercolor painting.

  “How do you know?” I slid off my sandals—I’d never wear them again, either; not if they reminded me of tonight, what a waste—and stuck them in the basket.

  “I spoke with her in the library.”

  “Well, whatever she decided,” I said, “nothing bad has happened to her.” But Bertie’s comment, and the darkly sidelong look he’d thrown me as he said it, quivered in my heart.

  What had Fritz and Bertie been speaking about? About Gil and me? How much did Bertie think he knew about Gil and me, anyway?

  We hit the end of Bay Walk, where we dropped bikes. We searched the Watching Stile and the ferry harbor. The moon, low and heavy in the sky, brushed a glaze of light on the lapping water.

  “Deserted,” I noted.

  “Everyone’s at the party,” said Bertie.

  “The bay tide is always less than the ocean. It’s a shame they didn’t take the boat bayside,” said Tiger. “Ocean’s a whole different animal.”

  “Nobody’s on the water now,” I said.

  “Anyone know what they were fighting about?” Tiger asked. “What would have got her so pissed?”

  Neither Bertie nor I answered.

  “Oookay,” said Tiger. “Guess not. Let’s search around.”

  After a few minutes of swooping our flashlights and calling Fritz’s name, the excursion seemed futile. We doubled back to check in with the others.

  In the time we’d been gone, the mood of the evening had become grim. The band was packing up. Nearly everyone was armed with a flashlight, and groups of five or six prowled the night, calling her name. I could hear Julia’s voiced raised above the others, so desperate and pleading, it made me feel sick inside. The few older people who hadn’t taken off to look for Fritz seemed disoriented by the disintegration of Lobster Party into these nervous search parties. They stood around, softly talking of plans to go home and make tea and wait for word.

  When I finally slipped Bertie and reclaimed Gil, he was corralling some of the youngest kids, telling them to stick together, commanding them to stake out specific assigned areas.

  “Gil,” I began, reaching for his arm. “It was a mistake.”

  He sidestepped me. “Don’t.”

  “I’ve been thinking, Fritz’s so athletic, and I remember from when we taught Minnows classes together a few years ago, that even if by some remote chance she got caught out here, she can tread water for a really long time. I mean, until the rescue boats come. I remember how she could do that for so long.”

  Had that been the right thing to say? His face was empty, staring at me.

  But when I stepped nearer, Gil put up his hands as if to physically block me. “If you really want to help out with this night, Jean,” he said, “then leave me alone. Join the search. Be useful. Arright?”

  Wounded, blinking, nodding, I retreated.

  In all the times I’d ever said something foolish or silly or awkward, Gil had rescued me. He’d always made me feel less regretful about my blunders.

  Not tonight.

  “Folks, I have some updates.” We all looked up to where Carpie was standing on a table. His bullhorn voice forced our attention. “We’re going to make Whisper our Base Camp. That’s the most likely place Fritz will return. Bay Shore has dispatched two officers to take our statements. So I’m headed over there now, with Mike and Patsy.” Then he said, almost as an aside, “But I’ll bet that girl’s creeping back through the gate by midnight.”

  “Carpie, you’re in no position to bet anything!” Mrs. Tulliver’s warning rang angry in the darkness.

  “Listen, Pats, I know you’re worried,” said Carpie. “I know she’s your ward and responsibility. But this is very likely a runaway situation.”

  “You don’t know what’s likely! You don’t know anything!” Mrs. Tulliver’s sudden bold words scared me fresh. “A missing child, out of reach and possibly in danger? Nothing is likely. Nothing is a bet. Tonight’s about as goddamn serious as it gets!”

  A murmur rose up in the crowd, mostly because swearing was discouraged at Sunken Haven, and Mrs. Tulliver did not tend to be mouthy.

  “I understand,” Carpie said, sounding more hurt than anything else. “But let’s not waste more precious time arguing.” Now his voice boomed twice as loud and bossy. “Let’s get out there and find this girl!”

  One of the mothers mentioned that if Fritz had intended to spend the night off Sunken Haven, she’d have returned for money and identification. This prompted Julia and Oliver to shoot over to the Tulliver cottage.

  They came racing back, minutes later, bearing the baby-blue plastic wallet.

  Something about seeing it, and her driver’s license intact, caused the conversation to explode into a pileup of horrible theories and conjecture. My own panic welled—what in the world would Fritz do in Ocean Bay Park without money and identification? Until then, I’d made a picture of her, smirking and strolling down a boardwalk, imagining all of us here caught in our foolish handwringing. It was so hard to see Fritz in any role other than victorious.

  “Oliver and I are going to trace the walk from Ocean Bay Park and hope we run into her,” Julia said, as she came over to where a few of us were standing. “I keep holding onto the fact that Fritz’s too smart and too strong not to know how to rescue herself.”

  “That’s what I keep thinking, too,” I said.

  Julia ignored me.

  “We’ll do one more sweep,” said Tiger. “And maybe the bird blind. We’ll be back at Whisper for when the police get here.”

  “See you there.” Julia didn’t like that I was standing so near her. I knew she thought I was pushing in where I didn’t belong.

  Since Tiger didn’t care if we stayed with him, and because Bertie and I had already established that we were part of Tiger’s search party, we remained together. Then Tiger’s girlfriend joined, and so, as a foursome, we hit the dunes and the bird blind. Circling with our lights, calling for her, before we doubled back to where Mrs. Walt was overseeing Lobster Party’s final, dismal pack-up.

  Hardly anyone was there now. But as I went to collect the purse that I’d left at the host table, I saw that Junior and a couple of his friends had never moved. They were playing quarters by the flickering votive candles.

  “Why aren’t you helping to search?”

  Junior looked at me a long moment. His face was illuminated by candlelight. “Kinda feels out of our hands,” he drawled. “You’re all looking around here to make yourselves feel better. If she turns up, she turns up. Or she doesn’t. She’s not hiding.”

  His friends sniggered agreement, as Junior must have hoped they would.

  “You shouldn’t make such dark assumptions,” I said. “But more important, Gil’s your own cousin. He’s never been anything but kind to you. You ought to be ashamed that you’re not out there helping him.”

  “So crucify me. But I can’t look for Fritz if she’s at the bottom of the ocean.” Junior bounced a quarter and sank it, bull’s-eye, into the shot glass.

  “You’re a snake, Junior. You always have been. It’s why you’re one of the worst things about Sunken Haven.”

  He flipped and sank another quarter. “Takes one to know one. And if you don’t think that fight between Gil and Fritz was about yo
u, you’re a dumber cluck than I thought.” He turned over the shot glass and scooped the quarters. “But we both know you’re not dumb at all. In fact, you’re pretty sly. Right, Jean?”

  I didn’t have to listen to that. Wordless, I left him, dodging Bertie as I ran all the way to Whisper. I didn’t want to go there, but it seemed worse not to. Would the police ask me questions? Would I be part of their “taking statements”? How would I answer?

  As I approached the house, Julia jumped off the porch as if she’d been in wait. Quick as a spider, she sped out to the lawn, moving in on me. Seeing her up close gave me a strange, frightened feeling, remembering when we’d been friends, all the fun we’d had when we were young.

  But we weren’t close anymore. That friendship had perished, and with her nearly white hair and in her long silver dress, her pale blue eyes so icy on me, Julia reminded me of a vengeful ghost.

  “I know what you did.”

  I stopped in my tracks. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what. Pretending you saw Fritz. Even if Gil’s officially making excuses for you. I saw you out there dancing. Let me guess what you thought.”

  “Julia, tonight is upsetting enough, please don’t—”

  “You thought, ‘Oh, if I say I saw Fritz and I say she’s here, it’s cool, then Gil will stop looking for her, and he’ll stay with me. Nothing will happen if I say I saw her. Because nothing ever happens when I do something stupid and selfish!’ ”

  “That not true, that’s not—”

  “And now that you’ve doubled back, now that you’re all ‘Gosh, I guess I didn’t see her!’ you think you’re off the hook. But this, Jean?” Julia used every inch of her height to look down on me, to push me as low as she could. “This was so much worse than stupid and selfish.”

  “I understand that you want to blame someone, and that I’m as good a patsy as any. But Fritz jumping in the ocean like an airhead and swimming off to where nobody can catch her, if that’s what she did, is not my fault, Julia.”