Authors: Eve Bunting
The silence told me they remembered why.
"So if you're in a hurry, sir, I'll take you to get Chloe's car now and come right back."
"Great! I really appreciate it, Jesse."
"Me, too," Chloe said softly. I was stupidly glad that she appreciated it.
Her father tried hard to make conversation with me as we drove. About UCLA and my plans for the future. "A business degree is just about the smartest thing you can get right now," he said. "Then you can decide which way you want to go."
He said my car was in really nice shape and I explained that it was my Dad's and that he took good care of it. He told me he liked old cars, and he had an ancient Volvo himself that was his pride and joy. Probably not old and ordinary like this one, I thought. Probably old and classic.
"You seem to travel a lot, sir."
"That I do, Jesse. One of our plants is in the Silicon Valley and one in Irvine. I shuttle between them. But sometimes I wonder if it's worth it, being away so much from the family. I'm lucky if I see them on weekends. It puts a lot of responsibility on Mrs. Eichler."
"I guess that's the price of success," I said, trying to sound as if I understood and was around success myself a lot of the time.
"You know my son, Wilson?" he asked.
I kept my eyes on the pickup truck in front. There was a little brown-and-black terrier loose in the back and I was afraid he might leap out. I couldn't bear it if I killed something.
"I only met your son once," I said. "At the party." Wilson had been bombed, I remembered. He'd been making a castle of champagne glasses.
Mr. Eichler sighed. "That awful party. I wish to God Wilson had never had it."
"I know." Another "if only." "But it wasn't the party that killed my brother, Mr. Eichler. You don't have to feel responsible about that."
He leaned forward and looked into my face. "You're a nice boy, Jesse."
We'd just about run out of things to say to each other and I was glad to see the beach parking lot.
Bunches of people still milled around and the police car still smoldered. A fire truck was pulled to the side.
Mr. Eichler told the cop who stopped us that we'd come for Chloe's car.
"You just go ahead and get it, sir," the cop said.
I could imagine what would have happened if
I'd
come to pick up her car. It would have been a repeat of the security guard's attitude in the airport parking.
"Are you sure it's OK for you to come back and stay with Chloe?" Mr. Eichler asked.
"It's OK."
"The club's only a few minutes away, Jesse. You can call us if you're concerned."
I guess he must have been feeling a bit guilty about leaving because he kept on explaining. "This is our party, you see, and we've invited three other couples to join us. We're returning hospitality so it is a little difficult."
"I understand. We'll be fine." Returning hospitality with a dinner at the club was a new one to me but I figured it must be important. One thing I knew, though. My parents wouldn't have left Bry or me at night if we'd had emergency treatment in the afternoon, not for something ten times as important. Which didn't mean Chloe's mother and father didn't care about her, I suppose. They were different, that was all. They had different priorities.
I drove back to the house behind him.
Chloe had changed into a soft, yellow robe and her bandage was covered by an oversized white sock. She lay on the couch with her foot on a cushion.
"I've taken one of the pills already, Jesse, so I'm going to be great company," she said. "I'll probably fall asleep. You'll be bored to tears."
"No, I won't." I could look at her if she fell asleep. It would be like watching her through the binoculars, taking my time, touching her with my eyes. The thought made my face warm. I'd never be bored looking at her. "Is it OK if I call my parents?" I asked Mr. Eichler and he waved a hand at the phone. "Help yourself."
Dad said they'd heard about the riot and he was glad I'd called, and no, they didn't need the car tonight. They weren't planning on going anywhere.
"Any word on the posters?" I asked.
"Two calls. I passed them on to Officer Valle."
"What do you think?"
"I don't have a great feeling about either of them."
"Oh. Well, I won't be too late."
Mrs. Eichler took me into the kitchen then and showed me a platter of cold chicken and salad makings in the refrigerator and a crusty loaf in the bread drawer.
"I'd put it together for you, but we're late already," she said.
I smiled at her. "Besides, you're not exactly dressed for the kitchen."
She smiled back, that small stretching of her lips. Here in the overhead fluorescent light I could see how much stuff she had on her face. I decided I liked faces better when you could see them. She and Mr. Eichler made sure I had the club phone number and that I understood Chloe couldn't have another painkiller till 10:00
P.M.
They thought they'd be back by then.
"Dad?" Chloe said. "Be careful, OK?" She glanced at me and I knew she was thinking how easy it is to lose someone you love.
"We'll be careful, honey. Don't worry."
"And Mom? Be good."
"I will." It was the kind of thing two sisters would say to each other and it made me smile.
"They're nice," I said, after they left.
She nodded. "And now, let's you and me make a pact. If you promise not to keep asking me if my foot hurts, I'll promise not to whine. Not unless it does."
"Deal."
I sat opposite her in a velvet chair with a matching stool, leafing over a magazine, not talking so she could rest. The stereo was on at some light, classical station, and a small sea breeze moved the soft drapes at the open French door. Now and then we'd hear the bang and sizzle of firecrackers, and once the night outside burst into crimson stars that crackled as they melted into darkness.
"Do you need to call and cancel that date?" I asked abruptly, not looking up from my
Surfer
magazine, turning a page nonchalantly.
"I did already. Anyway, it wasn't a date. A girl called Cinnamon Balfour's having a beach barbecue and Kevin Vohs was taking me."
"I know Cinnamon Balfour. I went to that school, too, you know. Before you did."
"That's right. I forgot."
"Cinnamon Balfour. Brownish hair. She was a junior."
"She became a senior."
"I guess. I remember Bry used to play tennis with her some Saturday mornings. He said she was good. She beat him a couple of times."
"You had to be good to beat Bry. I never could. Cinnamon was really upset about Bry. She was at the funeral."
"Oh."
I leafed over some more pages. Never in the history of the world had
Surfer
magazine been read with such unseeing eyes.
"Was it OK with that guy, Vohs?" I turned another page.
Chloe shrugged. "Of course it was OK. He was taking a bunch of people. He was probably glad of one less."
She had her hands clasped behind her head and her eyes closed. I could glance up in the quiet without her knowing. Hair, blue-black in the lamplight, eyelashes shadowing her cheeks. Her mouth. I wondered about Vohs. Did she like him? She opened her eyes, caught me looking at her, and smiled that heart-stopping smile. "Hi!"
"Oh, hi!"
She smiled again. "Want to go out on the deck for a while and watch the fireworks? We can see the whole beach scene from there."
"Sure." I jumped up. "Need any help?"
She swung her legs to the floor and I helped her stand, keeping my arm around her as she hopped to the French door. Maybe I should have offered to carry her, or better yet have swept her up. Get real, Jesse! What do you think this is,
Gone with the Wind?.
I pulled the drape all the way back and the night air came in, cool and fresh and smelling of seaweed and firecracker smoke. There were two chaise lounges with cushions on them and I helped her into one.
"Does it hurt a lot..." I began and she stretched up, put her fingers against my lips and took them quickly away again.
"Remember our pact? I'm not whining, am I?"
"Sorry." I leaned across the railing, still feeling the touch of her fingers, knowing myself muddled and embarrassed and happy. How could I be happy? I shouldn't be. It was too soon to be happy and certainly not here, with her.
Below was the bulky darkness of Clambake Point and beyond that the ocean, polished by moonlight. Bonfires dotted the dark strip of beach and there were people, small as beetles. The white lightning of a sparkler flickered and there was a shower of green stars that fell silently above the waves.
"Oh, look!" Chloe sat straighter and pointed and I saw a sailboat coming round Clambake Point, its sails outlined in red, white, and blue lights.
"Nice." I sat on the other chair next to her. "Are you warm enough?"
"Not really."
I'd seen a blue blanket on the back of the living room chair and I got it and tucked it around her. We sat close and quiet, watching the fireworks explode below us. Our boat drifted across the darkness. The sky was filled with shooting stars, and I knew I'd never forget the magic of this Fourth of July night, here with Bry's girl.
C
HLOE SHIVERED
. "I think I'd like to go in. It
is
cold. You don't have to."
"That's OK."
We got up at the same time and somehow I bumped her, not her foot, thank goodness, but her arm, and she swayed a little, and I caught her and we were standing very, very close in the breezy half dark. She wasn't cold. I felt the heat coming through the yellow robe and I could see her eyes and her lips that were slightly parted. I could smell that perfume smell of her, and somehow, without even knowing how it happened, I had my arms around her and hers were magically around me and we kissed. Her mouth was cool and salty.
"Oh, Chloe." I touched the smooth darkness of her hair, trailed my fingertips down the curve of her throat.
"Oh, Jesse!" Her voice teased. "Now don't get too excited and step on my foot."
I let her go and moved back.
"I didn't mean you to
retreat,
" she said and the teasing, mocking, tender note was still there. "Come back. I'll put my foot in my pocket."
I stared at her.
"What's wrong? Now don't start saying you're sorry you kissed me, because it's OK."
"It's not OK. It's too soon." I leaned over the railing again. The outline of the little boat with its colored lights was blurred. I tried to forget the feel of Chloe's mouth.
"Why is it too soon, Jesse? Because of Bry? I liked Bry an awful lot, but not that way."
I was shaking my head. "He thought you liked him that way. He was building a dream on you, Chloe. You were his hearing girl."
Her voice shook. "Can we go in the living room? I have to sit down."
I helped her inside and onto the couch. "Should I close the door?"
"Please."
She was sitting up, so when I came back I carried the footstool over.
"I want to tell you about Bry," Chloe said.
"I don't want to hear, Chloe. Not now."
"He was so brave. He didn't go around making a big deal out of being sorry for himself. He
did
things, like playing soccer. I mean, how hard to play soccer ... Anyway, when I saw he was beginning to like me too much maybe I should have stopped him, but..."
"But you didn't. Because he was deaf. You were sorry for him, is that right?"
I began pacing, picking up an ashtray, putting it down, examining carefully a china figure of a girl on a swing.
"Yes. That
is
right. You don't believe me?"
"I do believe you. I was sorry for him plenty of times myself." Times when he was younger and kids made fun of him and called him dummy and mocked the way he talked. I'd punched out a few of them. Not when Bry was looking, though. Not when he'd know.
"I never ever showed I was sorry for him," I. said.
"Well, I didn't either. Don't you see? That's what made it so hard. I didn't want him to think I was turned off because he was deaf. He'd had enough things hassle him all his life because of that and it wasn't the reason. I liked him the way I liked other friends but it wasn't special." She was biting her lip, looking down at her foot. "I'd decided ... because he was beginning to say things ... and I was noticing ... I was going to tell him that ... and then the awful thing happened."
The awful thing! I had to get away. I put the china girl carefully on the table. "I think I'd better get you something to eat now, Chloe."
"I couldn't eat."
"You should, though."
The fluorescent ceiling light in the kitchen was too bright when I switched it on. It made my eyes ache and they were aching already.
I filled two plates with the food in the refrigerator, poured lemonade, and put everything on the tray Mrs. Eichler had left out.
Neither of us seemed to be hungry.
"Bry told me..." Chloe began once and I interrupted her. "Could we just not talk about Bry anymore? Not tonight."
Chloe put down her fork. "Jesse? Are we never going to be able to be friends, because of Bry? Do you think that's what he'd want?"
"I don't know, Chloe. He's dead and I can't ask him."
I sat miserably then, moving the food around on my plate. Why had I jumped on her like that? She hadn't done anything wrong. I struggled for words to make things hallway right again, but I couldn't find them. "It's just..." I began.
"Sure. I know. It's just." Chloe pushed away her plate and picked up the remote control for the TV. There was a program on Channel 28 about whooping cranes. We watched in silence as they rose heavy and white into the air, so beautiful they made my throat hurt.
Halfway through, the phone rang and it was Chloe's mother and Chloe talked to her. "Yes, I'm feeling OK." She glanced quickly at me. "But pretty soon I'm going to take another pill and go to bed."
"I am truly exhausted," she said to me when she hung up. "I think I'll go now. Thanks for everything, Jesse, and you don't have to stay. My mother says they're leaving in a few minutes."