Like you.
Like me. But tell me about you, Lee-Ann. Really, I want to know.
You mean my own experience? My thoughts about childhood from a kind of retrospective view?
Faith nodded.
Like Uncle Hadley does. He talks crazy shit, but it’s tucked into poetry or history. I learn so much. Is your husband like that, too?
My husband?
Yeah, you have one, right? Unless old Hadley’s hallucinating. Flashing himself a brother. A straight, tough brother with an unhappy relationship to his flow.
His flow?
You’re doing the myna bird thing that drives my steps really crazy.
Faith sat back in the booth and watched the girl pile the wet napkins on the table. She was done with the nostril cleansing, and she’d wiped clean the backs of her hands and her inner wrists. Mad, completely mad, thought Faith. I want to hear all about them, your steps, said Faith.
Maybe. But I’m hungry. One good way to stop the bullshit. Lee-Ann grinned at Faith, perfect very white small round teeth. Excellent orthodontia, excellent dental hygiene. A surprise.
Excuse me? said the girl, waving a hand in front of Faith’s eyes. May we order?
Faith turned and looked behind her with her brightest smile, suddenly positive Hadley would spring out of the kitchen. He was just waiting for her to do something really laughable, really stupid. That was his whole thing with her. She’d tried to explain it to Owen, but he couldn’t hear it. Hadley lived to prove that Owen was saddled with an empty, pretty package. That’s what he called her, the package, sometimes the package deal. How’s the wrapping, he’d ask. Holding up?
Don’t you get it? she’d say to Owen.
He’s just playing with you, sweetie. He admires you. He can barely speak when you walk into a room.
It’s savage and cruel. Every time he calls, it’s a new twist. He’s always advancing his next move.
Not possible, said Owen. Hadley’s all impulse. That’s got to be obvious.
How many times had they discussed this? Hadley toyed with their marriage. Whenever he wasn’t busy, whenever he wasn’t caught up in his con games, she, they, were his hobby.
Ignore him, said Owen. Then he often ended the conversation by ignoring her. And she felt all her beauty, always her best bet with him, yanked right out of her.
For a long time, she’d prayed Hadley would just get bored. Guaranteed, she thought, once the kids were born. But it didn’t happen that way. First Cece with her bald head and her scowl. And Hadley loved her, built a filmy ring around her right away before Faith even woke up from all the spinal blocks and brain fog. They’d knocked her from here to next Sunday, her mother cooed, as if that weren’t a problem. By the time she could clear the gray glaze from her eyes, baby Cece was wailing in Hadley’s clutched, stiff arms, and he wept.
He’s more doped up than I am, she told Owen.
With Connor, he was different, and that bothered her, too. Three years later, everything that could go wrong did. Seven months pregnant, she trips in the parking lot of the pharmacy, nearly gets run over by the boy backing out a delivery truck. Her water breaks and worse, she passes out. They load her into the truck because it’s running and take her to Emergency. Connor, two pounds, eight ounces, twenty-seven and a half weeks. If she could touch him he would lay head to toe in the palm of her hand. Through the Lucite container he lives in, she watches him move like a stunned fish, small rise and rapid fall in the purple petal dome of his chest. They were not sure. That’s what they kept saying to her, to Owen. And this was legal and heartless. Connor’s chest fluttered up and down. And Hadley didn’t come once, not one time, and though he’s the primary nuisance of her life, she will never forgive him.
The full stack of chocolate-chip pecan pancakes arrived, and the girl asked for real maple syrup. Not the corn syrup with the chemical sludge added for color.
I’ll take a look-see, said the waitress, and she shimmied the bowl of butter pats in chipped ice closer to Lee-Ann. Just the juice for you, she said to Faith, dropping a curvy glass of grapefruit on the table.
That’s right, thanks.
Uncle Hadley said you have eating issues?
Faith snorted a laugh, and when the syrup came back in a suspicious plastic jug, Faith ordered cinnamon toast with extra butter and considered the question settled.
I forget how you met Hadley. Something to do with your stepbrother?
The girl couldn’t answer right away because the pancakes were choking her. She chugged down ice water to clear her throat. There, she panted and took another bite. She chewed in such a way that Faith noticed an amalgam filling way in the back. She didn’t think kids got those anymore. Cece and Connor were still cavity free.
Your brother, I mean stepbrother? prompted Faith.
No, no, said the girl. My mom.
Your mom knew Hadley?
I think Hadley may be my dad, but he’s not admitting it. No one will talk about it. Sort of frustrating, but I look like him, and he gives me money, for school and shit.
This was a fantasy Faith understood. For a moment she wondered if it was a particularly useful one, but it wasn’t Faith’s responsibility to dispense any home truths between now and the return bus trip. She nodded, poked at the crusts of her cinnamon toast. Smiled at the girl and played with the idea that a chubby redhead with small hazel eyes and the table manners of a cow might be Hadley’s own. She laughed out loud. And when Lee-Ann smiled up at her, Faith said, Good toast!
But the girl turned away. Something in the parking lot had caught her attention. Faith couldn’t see beyond the table jukebox. Someone there? she asked. The girl looked back and said, When my mom really got in trouble she called Uncle Hadley and, boom, he came over, right away. What does that tell you?
You remember much about your mother?
Completely. Everything. She died later, you know. It wasn’t a sure thing at first. They thought it was only a normal punch. But her brain broke. Something dislodged. A chunk of something, Lee-Ann laughed. She had loose marbles, just like me. The girl swatted at the side of her head.
Don’t do that, said Faith.
It doesn’t hurt. I have like a cement helmet. I grew it, afterward, like some kind of survival of the fittest adaptation. Crazy, huh?
Faith thought so, yes. Do you need anything else?
Like what?
Oh, how about tea?
I’d love to see the beach.
Oh, well, Faith sighed. But the girl was staring out the window again. What’s so fascinating out there? Faith shimmied up and craned to see. The man who’d sprinted away was now lounged on the boot of Faith’s coupe, working a toothpick into the lock. What’s he doing?
Probably just goofing around. No valuables in there, right?
Jesus!
Relax, I’ll discuss it.
Wait a minute, said Faith. Don’t!
But the girl was already skipping past the waitress. She shoved hard out through the glass door like she would break it with her shoulder.
My daughter’s just the same, said the waitress. Blink at her the wrong way and it’s the full works.
My daughter? Faith was still standing. My daughter is swimming laps.
She looks like you.
Faith watched the girl with the thick hips and the stringy dirty hair and wanted to laugh. Not in a million years.
Anything else? said the waitress, offended.
I’m sorry, said Faith, not sure what for. She’s, well, she came to work for me.
Very nice, said the waitress with a recouping smile. She seems like a nice girl.
Faith watched the man slump farther down the trunk of her car. His weight might dent the metal. It was possible. The girl was doing all the talking, making a sinuous little dance with her hands, her face loud and hopeful. Then she slipped her fingers into the
chartreuse patch pockets, head down and still like the end of a performance. This was a nightmare, just a nightmare.
Well, she’s a live wire, laughed the waitress.
Faith looked at the waitress, then gave her the inquisitive smile everyone seemed to love in her. Please tell me your name. It’s silly not to know. My kids adore you.
Tania.
Tania, smiled Faith, now a brave smile. I think we may need to contact the police, Tania. Nothing serious, just a drive-by might be in order.
A drive-by?
You know. Faith watched the man do that full-body lean forward, as though he had a slow-moving intestinal cramp. Now he was looking up from that angle into the girl’s quiet face, studying. Faith felt like she could smell the heat of the tarred parking lot from here. Yes, Tania, is there a phone somewhere? Where did the booth go?
To call the police? If I called the police every time my daughter had a boyfriend I didn’t like the looks of, she might as well move into the station house, save us both a lot of trouble. That’s just Buzzie. He’s no worse than the rest of them. You should see his brother.
Is he going to hit her?
Hit her? No, I doubt it.
Faith watched his big hands, Buzzie’s hands, splayed across the muscles massed above his knees. He gave a little bounce off the trunk of her car then stood staring up at Faith, as if he’d caught her prying. She glanced away then right back, staring now, too. It was her car, her au pair.
Buzzie’s more a kidder, bark worse than his bite. But the brother, now that’s a story no one wants to know.
Let me pay for this.
Sure, said Tania, as one dismissed. She scribbled out some numbers on a pad. Faith handed her a twenty and kept her eyes on the scene outside.
Anything smaller?
Afraid not. Thank you. Thank you, Tania.
You bet.
Faith felt her heart start to speed up. She tucked her straw bag up close around her shoulder and flexed her feet in her low sneakers. She realized it had been weeks since she’d played tennis, and she felt the sluggishness of her muscles. Courtney Ruddy, tennis friend and overachiever, would be back soon from her “world tour” for J. P. Morgan. Wait until she heard about this. Faith waved at Tania, waved away her change, grabbed the pink suitcase, and pushed out through the glass door.
In the parking lot, Buzzie had his head down, listening, and Lee-Ann was whispering something into one of his small scoop ears. His ears were funny on such a big man, high on his close-shaved head and sweet looking, like something she might see on one of Connor’s baby-pool friends. This Buzzie was listening so hard his eyes were closed, and he didn’t see Faith coming.
Excuse me, she said. She heard herself, heard the tone, the tough don’t-try-me voice. But Buzzie didn’t seem to hear her, and Lee-Ann kept up the whisper, though a flinch in the shoulder told Faith she was being deliberately ignored.
Excuse me, she said again. You’re sitting on my car. Though technically he wasn’t any longer, more of a resting stance.
Lee-Ann looked around, startled, and Buzzie opened his eyes and leaned back, just his torso, as if to get a better view of Faith. Something wrong?
Of course there’s something wrong, said Faith. Though now that he was asking she was less sure of her rights. You’re on my property.
You own this place? said Lee-Ann.
This is public, said Buzzie. It’s a parking lot. Anyone can come here. Buzzie said this slowly, almost gently, to educate Faith, as if she might not understand the social contract here. But the way he flexed his hands against his thighs, his feet slightly pigeon-toed, alerted Faith to something menacing. It was a move Courtney Ruddy made on the tennis court when she was about to do something aggressive, maybe even cheat.
You’re on my car, and you, she said to Lee-Ann, are still on my dime.
Lee-Ann was frowning now, but Faith was replaying the phrase “on my dime.” She could already see Hadley’s eyebrows shoot up as if she’d said something grotesque. On my dime, she thought. And looking into Lee-Ann’s anxious face, she began to tremble. She might have to actually be physical here, step between this Buzzie and the girl. She could already feel herself blocking the danger.
Here you go, Lee-Ann. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a fold-up corkscrew. Take it.
No, Buzzie, said Lee-Ann.
Take it.
All right, the girl said, accepting a precious gift.
One minute Faith was saving the day, the next she’d been ejected from the parking lot, like they’d magically dumped her back inside the diner. Lee-Ann? she tried. Time to go.
The girl pocketed the corkscrew and nodded to Buzzie, who leaned his big head in close and whispered something. This went on for much too long. Then finally, he stretched and said, Be good, now. And he strolled out of the parking lot without looking around. But Faith kept watching.
What are you doing? said Faith. She heard herself nearly hissing. What do you think you’re doing? You want to get hurt?
He’d never hurt me.
How do you know? Her voice was sharp, and the people walking by turned to watch. You’re a child. You don’t know anything. But as she said this, Faith felt it wasn’t precisely true. Her brother for instance could gauge the mood of their father by the way he drove in the driveway. If Eddie went sprinting past her room, she’d know her father was in one of his states. Her brother clambered down the back stair and out the pantry window. He was five or six when he started doing this and fairly accurate. Sometimes Courtney Ruddy asked about Eddie because she was nosy and liked to stockpile information.
We’re out of touch. Haven’t heard from him lately, Faith would smile. She might add a little shrug, smiling again. But Eddie did call her sometimes, his voice as hectic as his footsteps on the back stairs had been. Why couldn’t he just calm down? His latest thing—and this was pretty far-fetched—an intervention for their mother. He’d show up, but Faith ought to do all the planning, arrange the surprise.
The surprise? she’d said. Surprise, Mom, you’re an alcoholic? And maybe not so much Percocet, either. I don’t know. What do you think, Dr. Hugh?
Sarcasm is helpful.
I think reality is helpful. You’re hallucinating. She likes a Seagram’s and Seven now and then. Not fashionable, but no big deal.
There’s a word for you.
Sane. Gotta go.
She’d hang up. Then she’d call him right back because, really, he counted on her to be sane. Everyone did, even Hadley. And now this crazy girl he’d sent as a test was kicking her in the shins. Lee-Ann had hefted herself up onto the trunk. She’d adopted Buzzie’s stomach cradling crouch and was sobbing. With each ruffled inhale she’d swing a leg toward Faith.
Please stop, said Faith.
The girl pressed her mouth tight and held still. I didn’t mean to love him.
Who? Faith sighed, suddenly exhausted. You can’t mean Buzzie?
Hadley’s friend.
Oh, for godsakes, said Faith. This is too much. Some mobster, I suppose.
No, said the girl, as if this hadn’t occurred to her as a possibility. No, he’s a painter. But he’s got irrational tendencies. That’s why Hadley sent me here, to study some clear thinking.
And I’m supposed to cure you?
The girl gave an almost imperceptible nod.
This was Hadley all over, scorning her one day, canonizing her the next. She watched the girl with her nose running, the wet lashes tangled from rubbing. Only kids got their eyelashes in a twist. Faith sighed again. And for no reason whatsoever she was reminded of a clip in an old black-and-white film, of an elephant standing in a river stream with a baby elephant tucked under her big trunk. Faith felt a sweep of tiredness. She should round up the kids and find some kind of supper.
I must be an idiot, Faith said. She touched her damp thr
oat. Her glands felt swollen.
The girl was wiping her nose high on her arm, soiling her white T-shirt.
Stop, stop. Faith reached into her straw bag for a tissue. Come on. No more crying.
The girl took the tissue and made an earnest effort to tidy herself up. And something in that, the sheer impossible cliff she had to climb in Faith’s estimation to pull herself together, saddened Faith.
Just tell me. What did Buzzie whisper to you?
When?
Now. A minute ago.
Lee-Ann gave a hard blow into Faith’s tissue then peeled it open to examine the greenish contents. Faith felt mildly nauseous. She was definitely coming down with something.
He said: Looks like fucking Hadley-fuck did the human being thing for once in his fuck life? And a few other things, but mainly that. Lee-Ann was nodding toward the train station. The city-bound bus was just pulling in, grinding its pneumatic brakes. The stink of exhaust seemed to float across the street right to them.
I should take my bag, said Lee-Ann. She didn’t need Faith to tell her where she was going next.
What else did Buzzie say?
You know. That you were smarter than me and I should watch my stupid self-demolition mouth. Hadley said pretty much the same thing.
Tania the waitress came out of the diner wearing a yellow windbreaker over her uniform and iridescent-blue wraparound glasses. Done for the day. She didn’t even glance at them. They didn’t exist. That’s where Faith’s big tip got her.
Hop in, said Faith.
Excuse me?
Kids, sand, waves. Think you can handle that?
Well, I don’t know. I mean, how sure can I be? I mean, when you think about it, anyone about anything, right?
Okay, said Faith. She’d show Hadley he couldn’t saddle her with a living joke and get away with it. She’d send back a young lady too savvy to even remember his name.
Faith opened the trunk, feeling across its surface first for pressure dents. And listen, no friends visit the house without telling me first. Got it?
The girl dumped the duffel into the spotless trunk with a bang. Faith slipped into the driver’s side and started the car while the girl settled beside her. What was the name of that elephant movie? she wondered. Hey! she said, glancing over. Fasten your seat belt!
The Ocean House Page 5
