The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing - Melissa Bank [42]
I called the shore and told my mother we'd be late, and she said her usual, "Don't worry, whatever time you get here is fine."
I looked out my window down at Eleventh Street. I watched a young family packing up their huge jeep and leaving for the weekend. I suddenly got scared about how sick my father might be, and how little time I might have to spend with him. I thought, Whatever time we get there is not fine.
I decided I'd talk to Henry about being late. But when he finally arrived, he had a guest with him, Rebecca.
We didn't talk at first because Henry had the AM radio on for the traffic report. He said along with the announcer, "Ten-Ten WINS Radio, you give us twenty-two minutes, we'll give you the world."
Outside the Holland Tunnel, Rebecca turned around in her seat to talk to me, and I saw that she was pretty, though you could tell she didn't think about it. She was husky with brown skin, large dark eyes, and a tiny gold dot in her nose. She told me she was a landscape painter who sold water purifiers to pay her rent.
When she said, "You should get one," I thought she'd caught me staring at her nose dot. But then she told me that the water in New York was even worse than Boston's as far as chlorine, lead, and particulates were concerned.
V I I
In a few hours, we were on Long Beach Island, driving past the Ocean View Motel, Shore Bar, Bay Bank, Oh Fudge!, and the frozen-custard stands with their blazing signs in yellow or pink. Then there were just houses and a long stretch of darkness until we pulled up to the pine trees that hid our house from the road.
My father had replaced my mother's antique, practically lightless lanterns with floodlights, and the path was incredibly bright. For a moment, I forgot about my dad's illness and was just glad to be home; walking into the glare of the floodlights, I made my usual joke, "At-ti-ca! At-ti-ca!"
Inside, the three of us were drive-dazed. We stood in the kitchen. Henry opened the refrigerator.
My father came out in his pajamas and seersucker robe. He kissed my brother and me, and told Rebecca he was glad to meet her. He looked a little pale, but I reminded myself that he hadn't been able to play tennis since he'd had shingles.
My mother appeared in her bathrobe, her hair flattened on one side and poofed out on the other. In a sleepy voice, she asked if we'd like cold chicken, which was what she always offered.
Henry and I split a beer, and Rebecca said she'd just have water, which naturally led to the topic of water purifiers. Even though it was after one o'clock, she attached one to our tap to show us how great they were.
My father was coughing, and I worried that he had another bronchial infection. Then I worried about him seeing me worry. I got him a glass of water and one for myself.
Rebecca watched us drink. "It tastes better, doesn't it?" she asked.
My father seemed to be considering.
"It's triple-filtered," she said.
I admitted that I'd forgotten to taste it.
She said that I might not be able to detect the difference anyway, because cigarettes had probably killed my taste buds.
I said, "I thought the whole point of water was that you didn't taste it."
Henry looked at me. " 'The whole point of water'?"
I got fresh towels for Rebecca and showed her to my room. We'd dismantled the bunk-bed complex a few summers ago, but the room was still tiny, and it seemed even smaller now that I had to share it with Rebecca.
I went out to the deck for a cigarette. I'd smoked outside ever since my father had quit, years ago; I was half acknowledging that I shouldn't smoke, half pretending that I didn't.
The houses across the lagoon were dark. Now that Loveladies had been built up, it felt less like the seashore and more like the suburbs. There was no more marshland, no more scrub. It was just big house, pebble yard, big house, pebble yard.
Back inside, Henry had the TV on and a seventies movie had taken over the living room.
I said,