The Invisible Circus - Jennifer Egan [82]
Faith just stood there, wind tearing her hair. She said, “Are you scared?”
“Fuck no, I’m just … No, I’m not scared.”
And seeing no way out of it, he leapt in ahead, like diving through a sheet of glass, such a terrible, crushing cold, but he beat her in at least, though Faith was right behind him. Wolf thought he would die for sure but he kept on swimming, he’d be damned if he was going to look like a coward in front of this freshman, this prissy little girl, Jesus Christ. So with the teeth knocking in his head, he kept going, straight out. Sharks, he hadn’t even thought about sharks—after all, this was the fucking ocean. But some distance out a funny thing started to happen: the cold water began to feel almost hot, literally kind of tropical, warming his limbs; it felt pretty good, he had to admit, and on top of that there was this weird power, being out there in that gray heartless sea—as if you’d crossed over to a place most people didn’t know existed. Faith swam near him. Wolf had the impression some of that heat he felt was coming from behind her skin, and he reached out, touching her—just did it—they kissed right there in the water, so easy, as if they knew each other when all they’d done was say five words and jump in the freezing sea. When Faith looked back at the empty beach, she was smiling. Wolf had never seen her really smile before; it shook on her face she was so cold, and he wanted to get her back onshore. Around school he was pretty used to calling the shots, being a senior, having the truck and all, but as he breathed the cold salt air and the wind beat his head, Wolf had a feeling those days were probably over and he didn’t mind, really. He was actually kind of glad.
Back onshore the cold made them stammer. “You want me to take you home like that?” Wolf asked as water ran from Faith’s skirt and blouse and long hair all over his front seat. His parents were in Mexico on vacation. “Or you want to shower and change at my place?”
And not hesitating, Faith said, “Your place,” though she was only fourteen and had never been with a guy in her life, but nothing scared her, nothing. Or maybe she liked being scared.
Wolf looked away, his sharp, handsome face full of pain.
Watching him, Phoebe felt a weird, elated glow. Her sister had risen again, untouched, majestic, invincible. The feeling seemed to lift Phoebe up and crush her, stopping her breath.
Wolf glanced down at Phoebe, who lay on the grass. Their eyes locked and she saw that parting in his face, a stirring deep in his eyes, and it seemed to her then that she was pulling him down, that she could do that. The sensation was eerie, like finding each other in a dream. Wolf looked away. He covered his eyes with a hand, as if they hurt. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
fifteen
It was fully night by the time they parked the car. Street light swarmed in the flowering trees outside Wolf’s building, as if drawn by their sweetness. Rounding the top flight of stairs, Phoebe caught a flutter of harpsichord music and saw a band of light under Wolf’s door. Wolf saw, too, and from the brief unreadiness in his face she guessed he hadn’t expected this. “Carla’s here,” he said.
The bright indoor light shocked Phoebe’s eyes. Carla sat cross-legged at the table, reading a newspaper. Her cigarette leaned in an ashtray. Phoebe’s first thought was how tall she seemed, even sitting down. Wolf greeted her in German somewhat stiffly, but Phoebe noticed the familiar, easy way their lips met.
Carla’s short pale hair looked smooth as an animal’s pelt. In spite of her height she was finely boned, her delicate face frank, unguarded, its delicacy there for the taking. Her shoulders curved inward a little, as if in apology for the full, soft-looking