Fluke (40 page)

“Nothing,” I said.
 
“I just wanted to swim, that’s all.”

“This water is freezing, Adam.
 
You’re blue!” she scolded me.
 
I wanted her to slap me or punch me or shove my head underwater.

“It’s not too bad, Heather.”

“Let’s go, Adam.
 
Come on,” she said, taking my hand, and pulling me toward the shore.

“I’m sorry, Heather,” I said.
 
I felt awful; I wanted to cry.

“It’s okay,” she said.

“No, it’s not.”

“Do you have a towel in your car, by any chance?”

“In the trunk,” I answered.
 
“I think there’s a towel.
 
Maybe two, I don’t know.”

We got to the shore, and I did start crying.
 
I felt the tears coming out of my eyes before I realized it; my eyes were already stinging a bit from the saltwater.
 
When my chest hitched, though, I knew what it was.
 
Heather ran to the stairs and disappeared over the dune as I dropped to the wet sand, and there was Fluke…naked and crying on the beach.

Heather walked back and came to me with a towel a few moments later.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Heather,” I sobbed.

“Hey,” she said.
 
“Hey.”

She kneeled down next to me and wrapped the towel around my shoulders.
 
I felt her rubbing my back through the towels.

“Let’s get you dried off and dressed,” she said.

“No,” I said.
 
“Don’t help me, Heather.” I pulled away from her hands.

“I want to, Adam,” she said, moving her hands back to me.

“Stop, Heather.
 
Just stop.” I was still crying, but I didn’t want her to help me.
 
I didn’t deserve her help.
 
She should have just gotten in my car and driven off.

“Adam, shut up,” she said.

She stood up and fetched my clothes and brought them to me.
 
I was still sobbing gently once I was dressed.
 
I looked at Heather, who was still dressed in soaking wet clothes, and here I stood in dry clothes.
 
She was soaked, but she wanted to help me get dry and clothed.

She was shivering a bit from the breeze; I could see the fine hairs on her arm standing on end.
 
I sniffled a little more and pulled her to me, trying, in some small way, to warm her.
 
This woman who took care of me with no concern for herself.

She came to me easily, and I put my face in her wet hair, my arms wrapped tightly around her.
 
Her hands went around me, and we stood like that for a minute.

“Fluke,” she said.
 
“Someone will always take care of you, you know.”

“I don’t deserve it, Heather,” I answered.

“Yeah, you do.”

“I’m just a dope, Heather.
 
I’m just a guy who wades through life and doesn’t do anything for anyone.”

“You must do something for Sara.
 
She loves you,” she responded.

There I was standing on a beach, holding another woman in my arms, trying to warm her.
 
Would Sara love me right now?

I thought about earlier, when I told myself that something would happen today, that something had to happen.

“I have to get home, Heather,” I said, realizing that I needed to see Sara.

She pulled back from me, and wiped her eyes.
 
She had been crying, too.

You are a bad, bad man, Adam-boy.

****

I walked in the apartment, drained of all energy.
 
My skin itched, my eyes felt bleary, and my head was scrambled.
 
It was almost 7; I knew Sara would be home and more than likely curious as to my whereabouts.

Killer ran to my feet as I walked inside, causing me to stop in mid-step to avoid stepping on him, very nearly leading to a spill.
 
His excited yipping and his flapping tail made me smile; I was never much of an animal person, but seeing the little dog so excited gave me a warm feeling, like I was home.

My mood had improved somewhat after leaving the beach.
 
I drove along, feeling slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable about my episode, like a drunk who wakes up the next morning and remembers his belligerent behavior from the night before.
 
Heather made no mention of it, however, and continued administering her advice.

“Take it easy with her, okay?” she told me.
 
“You love her, she loves you, but she’s fragile right now.
 
You represent something evil from her past.”

“I do?” I asked, stupidly.
 
I knew that, through no fault of my own, it was true.

“Of course you do, Fluke.
 
Your father really did a number on Sara, and you look like the guy,” she said.
 
“I’m amazed she hasn’t thrown a punch or two at you.
 
You know, to sort of lash out at your father.”

“You aren’t giving me a lot of hope here, Heather.”

“Sorry, Fluke, but you’re going to find out just how strong Sara is now.
 
And, it may turn sour on you at any given second.” She cracked the window and lit a cigarette.
 
“Just keep your mouth shut and let her do what she needs to do.
 
If she wants to talk, then talk.
 
If not, shut up.
 
If she says don’t touch her, then, for Christ’s sake, keep your hands away from her.
 
If she wants to throw things at you, let her.
 
If she tells you to get the hell out of her life, then leave.
 
You’re at her mercy.
 
I hope you’re up for it.”

“I don’t have much choice, do I, Heather?
 
 
I love her.”

“If you love her, then just be there.
 
Don’t force anything on her.
 
This may settle down some day, but it’ll be a while, if it happens at all.
 
It may disappear, but it will never go away totally.”

“Jesus,” I said.

“Amen, brother,” Heather said.

Amen brother, indeed.

“Adam, is that you?” Sara called from the kitchen.

“Yeah.”

“Is spaghetti okay for dinner?”

“Sure, Sara.”

I walked into the kitchen and saw her back turned to face the stove.
 
The smell of tomato sauce and ground beef filled the kitchen, and a growl in my stomach made me realize that I hadn’t eaten that day.

“Smells great, gorgeous,” I said to her back.

“Thanks.”

She reached into the cabinet above the stove and pulled out a plastic bottle of oregano, and shook a bit into the saucepan.
 
She set the bottle down and turned around.

“You look rough.
 
Are you okay?” she asked.
 
A look of mild concern overtook her face.

“I’m fine, Sara.”

“Where did you go? I was a little worried.”

“I went for a drive to the beach.
 
I felt like getting out.
 
I’ve been in bed for the last few days.
 
I’m sorry; I should have left you a note, but I didn’t know I’d be gone this long.”

“That’s okay,” she replied.
 
“How was the beach?”

“It was…” I faltered.
 
“It was nice.”

“Good,” she said, sounding almost disinterested.

She turned back to the stove and stirred the sauce with a wooden spoon.
 
I stood and watched her, and realized that it was very, very quiet in the kitchen.
 
There was no laughter, no joking, no banter.
 
Normally, I would have attempted a lame, idiot-side feat to lighten the mood, but Heather’s earlier words came to mind.

Just be there.
 
Don’t force anything.

“How was work?” I asked.

“Good,” she answered, and put the tip of the spoon into her mouth to taste the sauce.
 
A moment later, she turned and added another shake from the oregano bottle.

“Oh,” she said, with her back to me.
 
“Mike is thinking about sending me to Chicago for a few days next week…there’s a conference there, and he wants me to represent us.”

“What kind of a conference?” I asked.

“Just museum stuff, Adam.”

“Oh.”
 
No interest in telling me, I guess.

I went to the cabinet over the sink and pulled out a bottle of Crown Royal and a tumbler.
 
I filled it halfway and added some ice cubes from the freezer.

“Can you fix me one of those?” Sara asked.

“Take mine,” I told her.
 
I set the glass on the counter next to her, and made myself another one.

I sipped my drink and then set it down on the counter.
 
Unable to help myself, I walked to Sara and wrapped my arms around her waist from behind.
 
Playfully, I said in her ear, “I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if you go to Chicago next week.”

It didn’t have the effect I had planned.
 
Rather than turn around and comfort me or invite me along, she tensed up in my arms.
 
She didn’t lean back into me, and she didn’t say a word.

I lay my head down on her shoulder and felt a horrible glimmer of failure in my belly; I was certain that things were bad, more certain than ever before.

“You’ll be fine,” she finally said.

I let go of her and walked back to my drink.

I was taking a large sip when I heard her say, quietly, “Why not have your dad over while I’m gone?”

Her comment caught me off guard enough to cause me to cough with the liquid in my throat, and I choked about half of it back out onto the counter.
 
I reached over and pulled a paper towel off of the roll by the microwave and wiped my mouth.

What the fuck?

“What?” I asked.

“I said, call your dad and invite him over,” she said, turning to face me, wooden spoon in her hand.

The look on her face was new to me; I had never seen anger in her like this.
 
She had been annoyed when she found out I went into her pictures, but not very.
 
There was no question about it this time, though.
 
Anger and resentment lined her normally beautiful, soft, and friendly features.

“What are you talking about, Sara?” I was dumbfounded.

“Yeah, have him over.
 
You two can drink a beer and watch football games on the television.
 
That’s what fathers and sons do, right? Hell, he can sleep in my bed.
 
Why not? His hands have been inside of me, right?”

I stared at her, mouth open, shocked.

“When you’re done watching football, you can talk about nailing Sara.
 
You two have that in common.
 
It’ll be a great father-son
bonding moment
,” she spit the words out at me.

“Sara…Jesus…” I started, but I had no idea what to say.
 
I stood, staring at her, fumbling for words.
 
None came, though.
 
The harshness of her words had me cringing inwardly; I was revolted and completely at a loss.

If you love her, just be there.

Just as quickly as she had spewed anger at me, she started crying.
 
Her features melted from anger to sadness, and she dropped the spoon in her hand onto the floor.
 
Her hands went to her eyes, and I heard her choke, “Adam, oh
G
od, Adam, I’m sorry.”

In what felt like slow motion, I turned to the counter and pulled off more paper towels.
 
As Sara leaned against the counter and cried into her hands, I knelt down and picked up the spoon, wiping the sauce from the linoleum.
 
Killer came trotting into the kitchen and, interested in what I was doing, came to the spot and started sniffing.