The Starboard Sea: A Novel (6 page)

While the New boathouse actually held the crew shells and team equipment, the Old Boathouse functioned as a clubhouse. As we walked into the night, Taze explained his plans to paint “Class of ’88” on the Old Boathouse roof. When I asked him why we were going to paint this rather lame graffiti, he countered, “Because I’m a maverick. We’re mavericks.”
“Then why don’t we paint ‘Mavericks’ on the roof instead?” “Then no one will know who painted it.” Tazewell chugged a beer,

then smashed the glass against the asphalt. “It has to be ‘Class of ’88.’ That way, the whole world will know it’s us. Otherwise, some lame- ass sophomore will claim credit.”

As pranks go, it was pretty innocent, not at all what I expected from Tazewell. Toward the end of our freshman year at Kensington, Taze was the only one of us ballsy enough to seek revenge on the seniors for all of their dickish hazing. On his own dime, Taze bought thousands of crickets from some pet shop and released the critters inside the seniors’ dorm. “A plague on their house,” he joked. What made Taze’s prank especially diabolical was that he did it during finals week. The seniors couldn’t study or sleep with the dorm buzzing from all those crickets hacksawing their legs together.

The rest of the gang waited for us in the dark, swinging paint cans and brushes. Race stood in the middle with a long metal flashlight. He shined the beam at our faces.

“Fuck off, Race,” Tazewell said.

Race took a playful swing at him. They grappled. I could still see the rope burns and bruises around Race’s neck. We’d barely exchanged words since the accident.

“Cut it out, you two.” Diana wore a black minidress and velvet headband, with a pack of Marlboro Reds tucked down into her cleavage.

She made me want a cigarette.

Diana held her same silver lighter by her side, snapping but not igniting the cartridge. “We have to be careful,” she warned.
“Listen to Tough Girl here,” Kriffo said, carrying two buckets of paint in one hand and a bottle of Southern Comfort in the other.
Tazewell let go of Race. “Is anyone up top?”
“We waited for you,” Kriffo answered.
“Onward, then.”
I followed Tazewell and asked, “We have a ladder?”
“Ladder? We don’t need no stinking ladder. Build our own human chain.” Tazewell leapfrogged onto Kriffo’s back. He stood on his friend’s shoulders, grabbed hold of the gutters, and pulled himself up onto the roof. “Who’s next?”
Race climbed onto Kriffo’s shoulders, went up, and then helped Di, Brizzey, and another girl I didn’t recognize. The girls carried paintbrushes and lifted cans up to Tazewell. Everyone smelled like cheap beer. I went last.
“How’s Kriffo getting up?”
“Big guy’s afraid of heights. It’s cool, though. He’ll be lookout.” Tazewell opened a paint can with Race’s new Swiss Army knife. “Jason, I’d like you to meet Nadia. Her mother’s Yugoslavian, but she’s a Southern belle, a Georgia peach. Directly descended from
Gone with the Wind
.” He motioned to the girl who stood holding a paint roller, staring at her own feet.
Nadia looked significantly younger than any of us. Her brown hair fell just below her ears. Her body petite and boyish. If she’d been wearing a baseball cap, I’d have mistaken her for somebody’s kid brother. Brizzey and Di ignored Nadia and sat beside Race on the peak of the roof, drinking beers.
“You three going to help out?” Tazewell asked.
“Roof’s old,” Race said. “Might collapse with all of us walking and working.”
“Useless.” Taze threw a foam paintbrush at Race’s head. “All right, Jason and Nadia, you can be the eighty. I’ll be the eight.
I turned my attention to Nadia, “How’d you get shanghaied into manual labor?”
“Diana, she’s my protector,” she paused, “my proctor. She said it would be fun.”
I started to paint, and Nadia pointed toward the edge of the roof.
“Could we start there?” she asked.
“Sure. You’re the boss.”
Nadia and I crawled across the rough shingles. She stayed quiet, keeping her head down. When we got close to the gutters, she leaned over the side and heaved.
“What’s going on?” Kriffo shouted.
Nadia let go and slid diagonally. I grabbed hold of her wrist.
“Sorry about that, Kriffo.” I called down. “There’s some weird birdshit up here we’ve been trying to scrape off.”
“Your birdshit landed in my goddamn hair,” he fumed.
I leaned over to Nadia. “Are you all right? Do you want to leave and get some water, maybe?”
Nadia opened her eyes wide. She nodded her head. I brought her down to the far end of the roof, away from the others.
“I’m going to jump.” I tilted her chin up. “All you have to do is hang off the edge, and I’ll catch you.”
I jumped, falling hard and straining my left knee. I looked up at Nadia. She blinked.
“Your turn,” I whispered.
She knelt close to the edge, folding her arms and rocking her body. I gestured for her to slide toward me. She bit her lip, turned, and stretched out flat against the roof, dangling her feet first, then her legs. Holding on to her sneakers, I eased her down. Her calves stiffened from my touch. I reached around her waist and told her to let go of the roof, but she kept her grip tight.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I have you.”
She clutched the roof like a gymnast afraid of her dismount. Her arms finally trembled under the strain, her elbows unlocked, and I gently pulled her away from the Boathouse.
“Do you want to go to the infirmary?” I asked.
“No,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’m very, very stupid.” Nadia crouched on the ground beside a bush of scrub pine. I wiped the corners of her mouth with the sleeve of my sweater.
“What were you drinking?” I asked.
“Beer, oh, and vodka I guess, with some juice, or . . .” She vomited. Her shirt label cropped up the back of her neck. I read, “Size Small.” If I had wanted to, I could have cradled her entire face in one hand. A freshman. I tucked the label back into her collar.
“Look, it’s way after lights-out. We’re going to have to sneak you inside.” I had no idea how to do this.
“Can’t I just . . .” She held on to the grass, her eyes rolling white, like those of a dead fish.
I couldn’t leave her there. I knew that even if it got me into trouble, I needed to take care of her.
“Come on. I’ll help you.”
Wrapping her arm around my neck, I lifted her, and began walking over to Astor. My plan was to carry Nadia up a fire escape. I didn’t know the layout of the dorm, but I hoped that once I made it to the third-floor window, someone would help me sneak her inside.
Cradling Nadia in my arms, I tripped up the first few metal stairs. Small as she was, Nadia still felt heavy enough to throw off my balance. I tried to put my feet down softly, but the wrought iron staircase echoed and vibrated beneath me. The window at the top of the fire escape was open and the shade drawn. I leaned Nadia against the railing and pushed the window up. The shade snapped.
The girl from the beach and from that day in history class, the seabird and the sprite, appeared in front of us, seeming for a moment to be nothing more than a lunar face and a pair of hands.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “She’s been drinking.”
Without waiting for an invitation, Nadia leaned into the open window. The girl looked at me. I gave Nadia a boost and helped her swing her legs around. The girl guarded Nadia’s head and brought her through. I hesitated before joining them both inside.
A strong scent of ripe citrus filled the room. The girls spoke quietly to each other, while I stared at a row of lit candles set in green glass holders. Some of the flames had blown out with the draft from the opened window. Debris from a séance. Piles of books balanced and crept up one wall beside rows and rows of bookshelves. The girl seemed to have her own private library. Above the shelves, a half dozen pairs of men’s tap shoes hung from their laces, suspended in midstep. The remaining candlelight cast shadows, leaving a pattern of dance steps, foot tracks behind the heels.
The girl said, “If you could carry her down the hall, we can clean her up and put her to bed.”
I lifted Nadia to my chest while the girl led me down the dark corridor to a shared suite. Together, we woke up Nadia’s roommate. While the two girls changed Nadia’s clothes, I left and returned with a cold washcloth and a large glass of water.
After swabbing Nadia’s forehead and adjusting her pillows, the girl resigned her post as night nurse, instructing the sleepy roommate to stay awake and make sure that Nadia slept on her side. “You need to learn how to take care of each other,” she said, then motioned for us to leave.
We crept back down the hallway and I said, “You were great. This isn’t a big deal, but—”
She put her finger up to her lips and made a sign for quiet. Ms. Alvarez, the Spanish teacher, had an apartment at the end of the hallway. The girl didn’t want to get caught with me. We went back into her room. I nearly tripped over a pair of oranges that had spilled out from a wooden crate. The girl picked up the oranges and placed them on her nightstand. Beside her bed were several scattered paper plates with bread crusts and a jar of peanut butter. Without looking at me she said, “Most guys just drop the girls on the fire escape.” She picked up two of the plates and folded them into a trash can. “You’re the first to actually come in and help.”
“I never had the opportunity to practice much before. My last school was all boys. When we broke curfew, all we had to do was climb up this ancient white oak.” She didn’t seem interested in my past or having me around in her present. The girl continued to straighten up her room, throwing out another plate, tightening the lid on her jar of peanut butter.
“This is some room,” I said. “Those shoes are wild.”
She walked over to the hall and adjusted one of the heels. “They’re Fred Astaire’s,” she said.
“Like a brand name?” I asked.
“No. They’re his actual shoes. He died this past summer.”
“What, did you inherit them or something?”
“Sort of. He gave them to my mother. Years ago. They were friends. I think he might have loved her. Men are always falling in love with her.”
She became quiet again, and I felt it was time for me to leave.
“I’m Jason, by the way.”
“Aidan,” she said.
“Isn’t that a boy’s name?” I asked.
“My father named me.” She gathered her long hair together and tied it into a loose knot. “Aidan means fire.”
“Why did you stop coming to history class?”
“I convinced Mr. Guy to let me study with him one-on-one.” She relit some of the candles that had blown out.
“Wish I’d thought of that,” I said.
“It’s time for you to go.”
“Yeah. Luckily, I have a fire escape, too.”
“I bet your fire escape sees a lot less traffic.”
Halfway out her window, I paused. “I’m not a bad guy,” I said.
“I have my own suspicions about you.” Aidan leaned down to face me and spooled a loose curl of hair around her index finger, “I spend most of my afternoons at the beach. In case you’re interested.”
I felt, for the first time since early spring, a connection to someone or something. I climbed quietly down the stairs as she closed her window and pulled down the shade.

The next day, I waited impatiently for classes to end so that I could follow Aidan to the breakwater. I liked the feel of her company. The wildness of her hair and the strange shadows on her wall were unlike anything I’d ever known. She worried me, intrigued me.

I sat through last period and ran back to my room to change before finding Aidan. On my way to the beach, I passed by Tazewell, Kriffo, Race, and a dozen other guys taking an afternoon run. Tazewell trailed behind me, kicking my heels. He reminded me of a reoccurring muscle twitch I had under my eye. A spasm I couldn’t get rid of.

“You work fast,” he said.
“How so?” I adjusted the heel of my sneaker.
“With Nadia. You must have been something else. Diana said the

poor girl couldn’t make it out of bed.”
“Heard she was having trouble walking,” said Kriffo, sidling up
beside me.
“Nothing like that. She felt sick, and I carried her over to Astor.” “Just thank Diana when you get a chance. Di is one of a kind. She’s
a goddess.” Taze spat, spraying Kriffo on the cheek. “Not only did she
pick her out, she primed her for you.”
“Hey, Spittles,” Kriffo snapped. “You better watch your aim.” “Diana got Nadia drunk?” I asked.
“You think someone would volunteer for you?” Taze smirked. The guys began to chant military-style, and I followed along. As
we passed by the girls’ field hockey team, Race, coming up behind me
and running to the front of the pack, hollered out: “Why do field
hockey players look funny when they walk?” He skipped a beat.
“They-use- their-hockey-sticks-for-cocks!”
The girls didn’t respond. Race tried another. “I don’t know but it’s
been said, Bellingham girls give wicked good head.”
Diana waved in our direction and sashayed in her field hockey skirt,
trying to organize her teammates to call back. As the pack passed
by, the girls shouted, “Fee-fi- fo- fum, Bellingham guys can’t make us
come.” Diana and Brizzey catcalled and flipped up their skirts. The
roundness of their bottoms curving out from black panties. Their skin
still firm, still tan. Their black and gauzy panties. I wondered if I’d
ever made Brizzey come. She was phony, bitchy even, but that just
made me want her more, made me want to prove myself to her. “Don’t hold back. Show us your tits.” Tazewell cackled. We headed toward the water, down Front Street. I kept pace with
my friends, past the gift shops and restaurants. Halfway to the beach,
on the opposite side of the road, Aidan strolled alone.
“Let’s cross,” Race called out.
The pack held tight together and closed in on Aidan. Kriffo whistled, directing the guys to surround her.
“Hey, Hester, where you been hiding?” Tazewell asked. “You
shouldn’t be out unescorted.”
“Care for a serenade?” Race ran circles around her, and everyone
else followed him in messy loops.
They engulfed her. Aidan stopped and folded her arms across her
chest. She was tall enough that I could see her over their circling bodies. She stood rigid and straight as a maypole.
“We’ve got a song for Hester.” Race led the chant. “Take my big
brown stump, stick it down your throat, and suck it, suck it, suck it.” The boys repeated the chorus over and over. “Suck it, suck it, suck
it.” The words passed quickly among them, like a precision soccer drill. Aidan didn’t move. She just waited, taking their abuse. “Cut it out,” I shouted, running across the street. Before I could get
to Aidan, I heard a strange noise. A bleating sound. A long, extended
sheep music.
“Baaah. Baaah. Baaah.” Aidan defended herself with a shrill, feral
animal call.
Collectively, the pack seemed puzzled, as if unable to determine
where the noise was coming from and why. They stopped circling and
chanting and stared at Aidan. She continued to smile, bleat, and bellow. The guys left her behind, running off and laughing. They didn’t
look back. Didn’t notice that I failed to join them.
I stood across from Aidan, chewing on my tongue and breathing
heavily from the short run. She turned and stared straight at me. “Oh,
look. Another raptor, circling.”
Aidan started back toward campus, with the harbor on her right
side. She walked past saltbox dormitories and a pair of tennis courts.
We stayed parallel to each other. Every time a car passed in the road, I
worried that I would lose her. I skipped sideways just to hold her in
my sight. Aidan kept her head down and her shoulders hunched. I
moved like a distant moth hovering by a screen door, unable to reach
the porch light.
She finally crossed over to my side of the street. “Don’t follow me,”
she warned.
“Let me apologize,” I offered, making an effort to stay a few steps
behind her.
“No.” She straightened her posture and walked up the cement path
that led to the library. As she entered the building, I decided not to
hesitate and followed her inside.
The ground floor was divided into a reference section no one used
and a fiction/nonfiction room no one visited. Aidan bypassed the
lobby, trailing up the stairs and to the second floor. I waited at the bottom of the staircase. When she reached the top, I clutched the railing
and bounded up the steps, two at a time. The yearbook staff and
school newspaper had their offices on the second floor. I’d been up
there once already; most of the rooms were locked. Aidan used a key strung on a silver beaded chain around her neck to open a door that led to more stairs. I caught the door before it closed and continued to follow her. At the top of a narrow staircase, I found myself inside a reading room. There were two large overstuffed leather chairs, three walls of built-in bookshelves, and, to my surprise, a grand piano. Instead of choosing a chair, Aidan sat down on the windowsill, her back
to me, and gazed out at the harbor.
I’d never met a girl this quiet, this determined. She sat at the window, leaving me standing without any acknowledgment from her. I
walked over to the piano, took a seat on the bench, and began to play.
Nothing really at first. Just notes and chords. Aidan gave no indication
that she even heard me. I decided to break the moment and sing.