The Lake of Dreams - Kim Edwards [26]
“Because I wanted to,” I said.
He laughed; it wasn’t his first beer. “I hear you’re heading west.”
“That’s right.”
“I hear you got a big scholarship, too.”
“I did,” I said; the letter had come just the day before, and the thought of it still made me flush with pleasure.
“That’s good. Glad it worked out.” And then, before I could say thanks—I was actually about to thank him—he added, “I mean, since you needed it so bad.”
“Come on, Lucy,” Keegan said softly. His strategy for dealing with fights—his mother was a very vocal member of the Seneca Nation, so he’d had his share of taunts over the years—was always to slip away and disappear, but I stayed where I was, the stream breaking around my ankles.
“What do you mean, Joey? I earned this scholarship.”
“Sure,” Joey said. He was a shadow on the moonlit shore. “You do what you have to do in life, right? If you have to work, you do.” He shrugged and lifted his beer. “I’m glad you’ll get to go to college after all, Lucy. Cheers to you.” And he drank.
Keegan caught my arm. “Let’s go,” he whispered. I let him pull me away, but we didn’t leave the gorge. I couldn’t let it go. I knew even then that I was caught up in something beyond this moment of foolish insult, some dark dynamic I’d inherited as surely as I’d gotten the Jarrett eyes, the gift of listening to locks. Keegan and I crouched a few feet away in the dense green summer foliage; I waited until Joey and his friends shed their clothes and waded out to the falls so they could dart beneath the pounding water or linger in the pools it had formed in the rock over time. When I was sure they wouldn’t see us, I scrambled to the shore, grabbed Joey’s clothes and keys, and ran. “Is this a good idea?” Keegan asked, but I didn’t hesitate. I flung his clothes to the highest branches. His red shirt was a distant flag, his trendy jeans flopped over an unreachable branch, his keys sailed far into the darkness, rustling dense brush as they landed. At that moment I didn’t care if Joey walked home naked. He could search for his clothes all night; he could climb to the top of the falls and crash to the bottom for all I cared.
My cousin still dressed well, in parachute-cloth pants and a dark blue cotton shirt. When he smiled up at the waitress, his eyes crinkled at the corners, charming and flirtatious. Her answering laughter floated over the deck. Some things didn’t change, after all. I closed my folder with its dusty discoveries from the past, packed up my computer, and paid my bill, trying to slip out amid the crowded tables before they realized I was there. It was too late, though. Art saw me, called my name, and waved me over. To my surprise, Joey stood up when I reached the table and swung one arm around my shoulders. I wondered if he even remembered what had happened at the falls.
“Home for a while?” he asked.
“Couple of weeks. How about you?” The last I’d heard, Joey had been unemployed, bumming around L.A. studying filmmaking, which had made me feel quite satisfied, sitting in my sleek Jakarta office as I read the family news in my mother’s letter.
“I’ve roped him into working here for the summer,” Art interjected. “I’m trying to start a dynasty. Why not? Between Joey and your brother, the business could have a pretty bright future. You’re not interested, are you, Lucy? Because there’s always a place for you, if you ever want.”
I smiled politely, wondering what Joey thought of Art’s sudden magnanimity, deciding not to point out how he’d been quite happy to slam the door on the idea of a dynasty when my father was alive. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind. Big project?” I asked, nodding at the rolls of drafting paper on the table.
“Oh, that.” Art waved his hand. “Just some ideas we’re working out. Always dreaming something up, you know. Staying on the cutting edge.”
Joey