Local Girl Swept Away

  The farther I walked, the bigger the spaces became between one rock and the next. Sometimes I had to leap the divide, hoping my foot wouldn’t land on a slippery spot or a chunk of seaweed thrown up by the tide. And then I did slip, not much, not badly, but I stayed down on my hands and knees for a few minutes to gather the courage to continue. Those last few yards the sound of the waves pounded in my ears so loudly I couldn’t hear my own footsteps.

  Finn couldn’t hear them either. He sat cross-legged looking out at the horizon, his hair whipping in the wind, and when I touched his back lightly, his scream cut through the humid air. He fell forward, away from my hand.

  “It’s me!” I shouted, pretty sure I knew who he thought it was. “It’s only me!”

  Finn stared at me for a few seconds, stared right through me. Then he took a deep breath and let his eyes close. “Jackie, my God, you scared the crap out of me!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . . I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he meant it.

  “Can I . . . do you mind if I sit here with you?”

  He hesitated a moment, then patted the rock next to him. “Sure. Have a seat.”

  Carefully, I lowered myself onto the flat stone. “I didn’t know you came out here much.” I had to yell into the wind.

  “I don’t. I never come out here.”

  What else was there to say? I looked up at the clouds, moving in fast. Just an ordinary, dreary day. But not for us. For Finn and me rain will never be ordinary, clouds will never be insignificant, the ocean will never be predictable, the tenth day of every month will always remind us of what we’ve lost.

  Finally I said, “How long have you been out here?”

  He shrugged, then shivered. “Before the sun came up. An hour or so, I guess.”

  “You must be cold. You don’t have a hat or gloves.”

  “I’m fine.”

  I reached over and touched his fingers. “Your hands are freezing.”

  “I don’t care,” he said, wedging them into his armpits. “It won’t kill me.”

  I was silent for a moment, then said, “What do you remember about that night?”

  Finn groaned and let his head sink down onto his crossed arms. “Come on, Jackie. Haven’t we gone over this enough? I remember the same things you do.”

  “I know, but I mean the details. Like how she was acting, where we were all standing, how long it took us to—”

  “Jackie, please. I don’t need this today.”

  “Well, maybe I do!” I was surprised by the anger in my voice, but I didn’t back down. If we didn’t figure it out, who would? “Why did she want to come down here that afternoon? She knew the weather was going to be bad. She didn’t even have a decent coat on.”

  Finn shook his head. “I don’t know. She talked about it all day, how this big storm was supposed to come in around six o’clock, and we should all come down here and watch.”

  “Well, why did we—”

  “Because. We always did everything she wanted us to. You know that.”

  “We should have said, ‘We’re not going. It’s a crazy idea.’ Why didn’t we?”

  Finn turned an exhausted, wind-burned face to me. “Why are you doing this, Jackie? What’s the use? I’m so tired of going over it. I was just starting to think I’d finally managed to stuff all the memories of that night into a little . . . a little bag, like an extra kidney that fit deep inside me.” He cupped his hand to show me the size. “It was tied up tight so nothing could spill out. I knew it was there, but I didn’t have to touch it all the time. I could go minutes, hours, sometimes most of a day, without thinking about the worst moments of my life.”

  The corners of his mouth turned down into a scowl. “And then Lucas came back with all his secrets or lies or whatever they are, and that little bag ripped right down the middle and everything leaked out all over. She’s here again. Right here.” He put his hand on his chest, the place where Lorna was still in residence, and tears spilled from his eyes.

  “Oh, Finn.” I couldn’t stop myself. I put my arms around him and drew him tightly against my shoulder, and he allowed it. He cried so hard it was more like howling, and the wind carried it out to sea. At some point I crawled right into his lap, my legs on either side of him, my arms around his shoulders, getting as close to him as possible so I could feel his ruptured heart banging into my own, so there was almost no division between the two of us. And then I cried too, only this time it was for Finn, not Lorna, because maybe he would always be like this, broken, ruined.

  We stayed like that a long time—five minutes? Ten? I had no idea. Finally Finn calmed down. He sat up and pushed away from me, gradually, until I couldn’t feel his ragged breath on my neck anymore. I ran my fingers along his cheekbones, mopping up tears, before I crawled out of his lap.

  “You still love her,” I said, leaning into his side.

  “Don’t you?”

  “I do. But, sometimes I think . . . she didn’t love us the way we loved her.”

  Finn shrugged, wiping his face with his sweater. “Probably true. It was harder for her. Which made me want to keep trying, you know, to reach that part of her.”

  I understood completely.

  “She was so beautiful,” he continued, “but not in some shallow, hair-commercial way. She just . . . glowed! The lights were always on inside her. You couldn’t contain her.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “When she laughed, you couldn’t stay mad at her. Her laugh was like . . . bells or scales on the piano, or, I don’t know, like rain when you really need it.”

  I could hear that laugh. I could feel it run up my spine.

  We were both quiet for a minute and then Finn said, “Thanks, Jackie.”

  “What for?”

  “Listening. Talking.”

  And there it was again, that tender, needy look on Finn’s face that seemed to be an invitation. His eyes snagged mine and held on. What did he want? Was I supposed to understand what that look meant? I wrenched my eyes away, not willing to make a fool of myself a second time. We were friends, Finn and me. He’d made it clear we could never be more than that. I was reading the signals wrong, or maybe I was making them up altogether.

  I leaned lightly on his shoulder as I got to my feet. “I’m glad you were here,” I said.

  And without looking back, I started my careful walk to shore. The rocks weren’t as frightening to me now, maybe because I could see land ahead of me, or maybe because I felt Finn watching my every step.

  16.

  As always at the beginning of a new school year, all thirty-six seniors were required to attend the afternoon assembly in the auditorium, like it or not. I walked in with Charlotte and saw Finn sitting with his friend Tony Perry. There were open seats next to them, but sitting so close seemed risky, especially after the confusing emotions I’d felt this morning on the breakwater, so I led Char into the row just ahead of them. I wondered if my eyes looked as droopy and sad as Finn’s did. We exchanged brief smiles before Charlotte and I settled into our uncomfortable seats.

  Almost immediately I saw Lucas coming down the aisle. He was headed in my direction until he saw who was sitting behind me—then he veered off and sat across the aisle. Ugh. Wouldn’t anything ever be normal again? Couldn’t we figure out a new normal?

  Ms. Waller stood on tiptoe in front of the microphone, going on and on about how important this year was going to be for us. She knew we all had a lot on our plates, but that was no excuse to goof off. Those who planned to go to college needed to schedule appointments with her to make sure they were on track. There were forms to fill out, tests to take, and endless deadlines to remember.

  “Have you gone in to talk to her yet?” Charlotte asked.

  “Last week,” I said. “Elsie’s helping me figure out the FAFSA forms today after school.”

  “Oh good, then you can help me,” Char said.

  Tony leaned fo
rward. “I thought our parents had to fill those things out?”

  I swiveled in my seat. “They do, but my parents keep putting it off. I decided I better figure it out myself and just tell them where to plug in the numbers.”

  “Why is this so complicated?” he asked. “Getting into college is like a part-time job.”

  “You’re going to college?” Finn sounded surprised.

  Tony nodded. “I hope so. My dad thinks I can get a basketball scholarship. You know, not to anyplace big, but I don’t care as long as they pay for it.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “My dad’s got a list. Small, private schools mostly. I guess they like to get people from other parts of the country, so we’re thinking maybe somewhere in the Midwest.”

  “I didn’t know you wanted to go to college,” Finn said. I turned back around, but I was still listening.

  “Why not?” Tony said. “If I get the chance to, I’m going. If I stick around here I’ll just end up being a carpenter like my dad.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Finn grumbled.

  “The Cape’s already full of unemployed carpenters. Besides, I want to go someplace I don’t know every single person in town. Don’t you?”

  “No. I like it here. I want to be a fisherman,” Finn said.

  I have to admit I was pleased when Tony exploded with laughter. “Are you kidding me? Nobody can make a living fishing anymore, even families that have done it for generations. I guess you don’t really need to make a living though, huh?”

  It took Finn a few seconds to respond. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re rich, bro. Didja forget?”

  “I’m not planning to live off my parents, Tony. Geez.”

  Tony clicked his teeth. “Well, I wouldn’t plan on the fishing career either, man. Seriously, dude. How can a guy like you not go to college?”

  Huh. A guy like you. It hadn’t occurred to me that Finn got pigeonholed like that too.

  He didn’t have to answer the question because Mr. MacCracken, who taught history, came over to tell them to be quiet. I was glad to hear somebody else getting on Finn’s case about this dumb fishing idea. Becoming a fisherman was his excuse for staying in P’town where he could be reminded of Lorna every minute of every day.

  When the assembly was over, Finn and Tony took their time extricating their long legs from the auditorium chairs. I scooted into the aisle quickly and waited for Lucas to walk past. I could tell he was planning to ignore us, so I grabbed him when he came near. By that time Finn was standing in the aisle too, scowling.

  “Hey, man,” Tony said to Lucas. “I heard you were back. How’s it going?”

  “Good, good,” Lucas said, careful not to make eye contact with Finn.

  “Doesn’t he look great?” I said, my voice more cheerful than necessary. “He’s been hiking in the woods all summer.”

  Finn’s lip twitched and he squinted at me in disgust, but I didn’t care. I was determined that we could get past what had happened and all be friends again, but it was not a message Finn wanted to hear.

  His mouth curled up at one corner. “Yeah. Lucas has changed so much I hardly recognize him,” he said, then turned and stomped off.

  “What’s with Finn?” Tony said, looking after him.

  I shrugged. “You know how cranky fishermen can be.”

  • • •

  “FAFSA can wait,” Elsie said the minute I walked into her office. “I had a brainstorm last night. We’re going to do a show of your photographs here, at JSAC, a week from tomorrow!”

  “What?” On the walk over I’d been mulling a question about the difference between taxable and nontaxable income, and I couldn’t immediately make sense of what Elsie was saying.

  “I was trying to think of a way to make your application stand out from all the others so you’d have a better chance to get scholarship money,” Elsie explained, “and I realized we could give you a show here! Isn’t that a great idea? How many high school students have had a show at an actual gallery? I can tell you: none.”

  I dropped my stack of papers onto the desk. “But that’s impossible. The gallery’s booked up a year ahead.”

  Elsie grinned. “Except there’s nothing booked for the next two weeks. I planned it that way so I’d have time to Spackle and repaint the walls and refinish the floors. I thought Cooper and I would do most of it ourselves, but if you can help us—and we’ll get Finn too—we can do it in half the time. We can have the opening at the end of next week and the work can stay up for four or five days before we have to get ready for the next scheduled show. I’m sure I can get someone to review it, at least locally, so you’ll have a clipping to send with your application. What do you say?” Elsie was practically levitating with glee.

  I felt as if all the blood from my brain had puddled in my feet, and I had to hold onto the edge of the desk to keep myself upright. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes, Jacqueline.”

  I spun around to see Cooper coming through the doorway, grinning, and behind him, Finn, carrying a cardboard box.

  “Did you hear this?” I asked them.

  “Is Elsie a genius, or what?” Cooper said.

  “Genius?” Finn said, scowling. He pushed past Cooper and stacked the ream of copy paper in a corner of the office. “You people throw that word around so much it’s lost all meaning. You paid that bill on time? You’re a genius! You found my keys? You’re a genius! You got the printer working? You’re a genius! You’d think this place was full of NASA scientists.”

  I ignored him. “Do you think I have enough stuff for a show?”

  “Of course you do,” Elsie said. “Although I’d like you to finish one of those horizontal sequences of cloud photos you’ve been working on. I want to see one of those on the wall.”

  I squealed. “I can’t believe this!”

  “Couldn’t this backfire?” Finn asked his mother. “I mean, what if you get some reviewer to come and he hates it? Just because you love it—”

  And just that quickly, fear crept into the cracks of my happiness. What if Finn was right? What if it turned out to be embarrassing to have my work hanging in public? What if nobody showed up? What if they showed up and laughed?

  Cooper smacked Finn on the back. “Way to be supportive of your friend, pal.”

  “I’m not your pal.” Finn shrugged away from Cooper and turned to his mother. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. I will. I’m just asking if you’ve thought the whole thing through. I know Jackie’s pretty good, but she’s still a high school kid.”

  Elsie put a protective arm around me. “For one thing, Jackie’s very good. And, secondly, I’m not going to ask some idiot to review her. Even if it’s not a rave, it’ll be a respectful review. I’m not worried.”

  “Well, I’m happy to help out,” Cooper said. “You can count on me.” He moved behind me and put his hands on my shoulders which made me shiver a little.

  I darted a glance at Finn who seemed to be pissed off at all of us. “I’ll bet your old friend Lucas will want to help out too,” he said. “He’s always there when you need him.”

  “Right. I forgot Lucas was back,” Elsie said, totally misunderstanding the dig. “And maybe your friend Charlotte would help too. Cooper and I can finish packing up Carolyn’s show tonight and then we’ll all work in the gallery tomorrow and Sunday.”

  “I’ll have to mat things, won’t I?” I asked.

  “Cooper can help you. Maybe we’ll even frame one or two. Bring all your stuff over tomorrow and we’ll decide. I’m coming in early, but Finn can give you a ride over mid-morning.”

  I glanced at him. “Can you?”

  He shrugged, then gave a curt nod.

  “It’s settled then,” Elsie said happily. “Team Jackie Silva starts work tomorrow!”

  “Team Jacqueline,” Cooper said quietly, as if he were speaking only to me.

  17.

  I floated down C
ommercial Street in a joyous bubble. My photographs were going to hang in the gallery at the Center, as if I were an actual, legitimate photographer! My imagination was on fire envisioning my pictures hanging on the same walls that showed the work of established artists—people like Carolyn Winter. I dug my camera from my backpack and started clicking away at fences, flowers, chimneys, license plates, streetlights, posters tacked to telephone poles. Every direction I pointed the camera highlighted something I’d never seen before, or, at least, never noticed in quite this way.

  “Hey, Jackie! Take my picture!” The bleeting voice was immediately recognizable.

  I froze in place, but eventually I had to look up from the camera toward the front porch of Old Hat Vintage Clothes. There sat Carla in a rocking chair wearing what seemed to be two or three different outfits from the store, layered one over the other.

  “Oh, hi,” I said reluctantly. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “You weren’t looking. Come on, take my picture. I look good in this dress.” She petted the black velvet blouse of her odd costume, then wrapped a green flowered scarf tightly around her neck half a dozen times so it looked as if her head was no longer connected to the gaunt body beneath. “There. Don’t I look good?”

  “Uh-huh,” I mumbled.

  “Not as good as I used to,” she said, with a sharp laugh. “I should never have had that damn kid. She ruined my whole life. Take my advice, Jackie: Don’t ever get yourself knocked up.” She hiked her skirt so her knees stuck out, then turned to one side and said, “I like a profile shot, don’t you?”

  What choice did I have? People on the street were already staring at us—I didn’t want to make more of a scene than we already were. I took three or four shots, but just the sight of her through the viewfinder made my hands tremble.

  Carla shifted position, sticking her bare feet out in front of her as if showing off the dirty soles. “Now one like this.”

  I snapped one more, and then made a show of looking at my watch. “Oh, I have to get going. Sorry. I told Mom I’d be home by now.” It wasn’t much of an excuse, but Carla didn’t seem capable of judging.