A Sea Change (3 page)

Pulling off her jeans, she rolled them into a ball and - with a well-aimed throw - lobbed them into the open French doors of Jaed’s house. She walked down the steps in her sweatshirt and underwear until she was hip-deep in the frigid water, and took the pot in her arms. The kicker was, she looked damned fine doing it.

“Now,
that’s
entertainment,” he said.

The phone rang, breaking the spell. Nick snatched it up and said, “George, get your face away from that telescope right now.”

“Daddy?”

“Becky?”

And his eight-year-old’s reedy voice began singing, “Happy birthday to you…”

Journal Entry

April 7

It’s past midnight and I’m exhausted. My body says ‘sleep,’ but my mind won’t let me. It took me almost an hour to unload the boat. Toward the end my legs were numb and actually turned blue. Quite a lovely sight. I’m in bed wearing a nightgown, robe, and two pairs of socks. Jaed’s got a down comforter but I’m still cold.

This house was built in the 30’s and I guess the original owners used it as a summer place. Someone put a baseboard heater in the bedroom but it doesn’t work too well. There’s a fireplace in the living room, and a little electric wall heater in the bathroom, but they’re not doing much good right now. I don’t know how Jaed stands it in the winter. Which is probably why she moved to Mykonos. (That, and Alex, who she claims is the reincarnation of Apollo.)

I completely forgot to buy food. Jaed’s only been gone about a month, but I still had to really scrounge to find something edible. My dinner was two stale packets of shrimp Top Ramen. My choice of beverage turned out to be some kind of disgusting herbal tea, or water. I went with water.

I tried to watch TV earlier, but the cable is out. I totally missed Opening Day, which has got to be a first. (I guess there are going to be a lot of ‘firsts’ any more.) A baseball game would’ve made me feel a little more at home here, ‘cause right now I’m feeling very lost.

I’ve been so busy the past few days I guess I haven’t had time to think about what’s happened. But now I’m sitting here alone in Jaed’s bed, surrounded by everything Jaed, and I feel totally displaced.

I tried to unpack a box, but the whole process overwhelmed me. I felt completely helpless which isn’t like me at all. I’ve always been the one to do everything. Whenever Ted tried to fix something he’d always screw it up worse than it was to begin with. I guess that’s not my problem anymore, and doesn’t
that
feel good.

A lot of people have told me I’m being pretty stupid not taking him to court. That even though we weren’t married, sixteen years is nearly half my life. But what would be the point? The way I figure it, half of nothing is nothing. And it would make me feel even more stupid to go on public record saying I worked at the stadium for two years, lived with him for sixteen, and didn’t have a clue that he was not only fooling around with the accounts there, but with the owner’s wife, too. I’m sorry, but I don’t need to shout that from the rooftops.

Mom, on the other hand, tried to convince me I needed to get Ted back. Even after I told her the whole humiliating story. “But what about security, Maddy? You’ll be alone. How will you support yourself?” That really shocked me. Hurt me, too.

When this all began I lied to her. Said I’d give it a try. But after I’d heard the litany three or four times, I finally told Mom why I couldn’t do it. And why, now, I wouldn’t, given the chance. I told her I thought I deserved better. And Mom said, “Of course, Maddy. But you were lucky to find Ted,” meaning who’s going to want me now, at my age.

I’m the person who always tries to do everything right. In school I never cheated on a test, or talked in class. I was the good student all the other kids made fun of. I’ve never smoked dope or consciously broken a law. When I got that speeding ticket I honestly thought the limit was 35 and not 25. I never rock the boat. I try to please everyone, which is tricky. That was specially hard when I met Ted. He was the one who didn’t want to get married, and Mom and Dad were pretty unhappy about that at first. But I went with Ted because I’d never been alone, and I was so sure that if I let Ted go I’d never find anyone else who wanted me. I guess I still feel that way. Let’s face it: in the end he didn’t want me either.

People think I’m really tough. They actually say that to me. “Maddy, you’re so amazing. If it’d been me, I’d be a quivering mass of useless flesh.
But you’re so tough…
”

I supposed it’s because of this ‘have to be the best, don’t want to look foolish’ mentality I have. The last time I cried in public I was in the 7
th
grade. Tommy Parnell – the love of my young life – had just told me he hated my ugly face and thrown the Saint Christopher’s medal I’d given him at me. He’d done this on the playground in front of about 40 other kids the day before Christmas vacation. I remember the tears really came fast, and they surprised me. I ran to the bathroom, pursued by a bunch of girls who said they wanted to make sure I was okay. What they really wanted was more grist for the gossip mill. And I know they were thinking, ‘Boy am I glad that wasn’t me.’ I locked myself in a stall and stayed in that bathroom all through lunch, and part of English class, until Mrs. Shelly hunted me down. I lied to her. Told her I was really sick, and even stuck my finger down my throat and made some pretty convincing gagging noises.

Mom picked me up, put me to bed, and brought me chamomile tea until I thought I really would throw up. I didn’t tell her the truth, either. But then Danny came home from school, and at the dinner table that night spilled the beans. I know he didn’t mean to. He was just being a dopey eight-year-old. But Dad gave him the tattle-tale lecture and sent him to his room, while Mom brought me a brownie and some milk and told me how silly boys were. God, did I feel guilty about that.

Anyway, I never cried in front of anyone ever again. But I cried myself to sleep that night. And here I am, at 39, about to do it again.

Chapter Thre
e

The rain had stopped for the moment. The only sound in Nick’s bedroom was the water lapping at the pilings under the house. That nap he’d taken had been a bad idea. Now he couldn’t sleep. Too much stuff going on in his head.

He’d turned thirty-seven and missed it. How do you forget your own birthday? But when one day blends into the next to make a week, and then a month, what’s a year?

Nick rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes. An inky darkness peculiar to Salmon Beach greeted him. With no street lights (well, let’s face it, there weren’t any streets) and no visible moon tonight, it was what he imagined deep space must be like. The days here were peaceful, but the nights were graveyard-quiet. He’d been down on the beach for nearly a year and a half, but after thirteen years spent in hotels, motels, and cities, Nick still had a hard time with the soundless nights.

He missed his daughter. She was only an hour and a half away, but Bellevue might as well have been a foreign country. Different area code, different county, different attitude. The judge had declared her his only four days out of a month, so he called her often, but those conversations were usually preceded by the sound of his ex-wife. Janet’s voice could chill him even on the hottest days.

Becky’s call that afternoon had pushed away the lousy day. Her words brought with them a warmth Nick could actually feel enter his body. He sat on the floor and listened to everything she had to report. There was school and her friends. Piano (“too hard”) and ballet (“too weird). And there was Little League just starting up. Her excitement jumped across the phone wires. “And guess what, Daddy? I get to be a catcher!” Then he’d grinned as she’d said, “And you know that’s the most important position.” He’d taught her well.

For the sake of harmony he always made sure she was minding, helping out, not talking back to her mother. But Nick could never bring himself to come right out and ask about Janet’s new husband. It wasn’t awkward for Nick. That word didn’t exist in his vocabulary. The situation went way beyond awkward and landed somewhere in the neighborhood of humiliating.

There had been a time, during the separation and just after the divorce, when Becky would make attempts to reconcile them. But in the year or so since, she seemed to come to an understanding. As if wisdom had replaced hope. He remembered being astonished when she’d said, “Daddy, you have your regular voice back. You know. The one with the smile in it.” And it had been true.

The change in him had been insidious. The Nick McKay everyone described as easy-going and cool-headed slowly disappeared and was replaced by a very angry man. Tension had become a fact of life those last couple of years with Janet. And, for the most part, he’d been able to deal with that.

The accident, followed by surgery, too much pain, and another surgery had left him with a hefty addiction and without a career. At that point the only sure thing in his life had been the love for his daughter. That love kept Nick’s head above water; but just barely.

No. What changed him was Janet’s perverse timing and staggering revelation. His wife told him she was divorcing him – that she’d found her “soulmate.” And she gave him the news approximately an hour before his second surgery. Nick had lain in his hospital bed later that night, his right arm immobilized, and with his left he’d felt under the covers to make sure he still had balls.

After that, anger seemed to consume him. He wasn’t used to the feeling, which made him even angrier. Everyone, including Nick, suffered for it. But the first time he’d yelled at Becky for some minor infraction, Nick knew the time had come to give Janet what she wanted.

When it was all over Nick had lost Becky and what had been left of a long, satisfying career as a major league catcher. Those were the tangible assets that had been snatched from him. It took him a little longer to realize the emotional costs.

For the first time in his life Nick had wanted to run away. Just get out. He’d wanted his mother’s arms, his father’s strength, and his sister’s level-headed humor. He needed them to tell him he still had some self-worth. They told him to come home. But they were in Phoenix, and Becky was here, and he’d refused to leave her. And so he’d found a place to hide in plain sight.

The phone rang. It startled him, and he looked at the illuminated display on the clock. Quarter to eleven.

“Did I wake you up?”

Nick smiled at his sister’s voice. “No, I had to answer the phone anyway.”

“Happy birthday, big brother.”

“You’re a little early, aren’t you?” Every birthday his sister’s goal was to be the last to call him.

“I’m no such thing. It’s ten to twelve.”

“Maybe in Phoenix.”

“Maybe in Tacoma, too. Did you forget to spring ahead?”

“Guess I did.” Nick pulled another pillow under his head. “I’m getting old, Kay. I forgot it was my birthday until Becky called.”

“So you were awake.”

“Yeah. I was starting to feel sorry for myself.”

“Bad day?”

“Let’s just call it ‘stupid,’ and leave it at that. Aside from my birthday call, what are you doing up this late?”

“The kids are having a sleepover at Mom and Dad’s. Tom and I spent about as much quality time together as we could stand, but he blacked out during Leno, so I figured I’d call you while not a creature was stirring.”

Nick chuckled. “You mean you had your way with Tom, wore him out, and now you’re bored.”

“Jealous?”

“It
has
been a while.”

“So, what’s new and exciting on Salmon Beach?”

“Same old stuff. Fire and rain.” He knew he was forgetting something, but suddenly Nick heard a muffled voice, a giggle, and then a dull thud as Kay dropped the phone.

“Gotta go, Nick,” she said.

“Tom wake up?”

“Uh huh. Listen, close those baby blues and go to sleep.” Kay let out a small yelp. He heard her whisper, “Keep your pants on,” to her husband. When she came back on the line Kay quickly said, “Don’t forget to talk to Janet about Becky coming down in June.”

“I’ll do what I can. Give my best to Tom.”

“Your best isn’t what he wants right now.”

Sleep wasn’t going to come for a while and Nick sat up.

Despite the fact that Kay was five years his junior they’d always been very close and he knew the real reason she always called so late. He got through most days – weeks – with no problem. The milestones were a different story, and today there’d been two: Opening Day, and his birthday. During daylight hours Nick put his brain on autopilot, taking care of whatever came his way, but the nights were hard. The loneliness would seep in, filling him up. There was a time, not that long ago, when he’d begin a sort of countdown until his spirit gave up. That was when he’d let the painkillers do their work. Now Nick had to rely on himself to make it through.

He finally got out of bed and wandered into the living room.  The cable was still out and he tossed the remote back onto the armchair in disgust. Nick thought about setting all the clocks forward, but that required turning on a light and the darkness appealed to him. Despite the thermal underwear he’d worn to bed a shiver ran through him. It was time for a cup of Jaed’s tea.

Nick switched on the nightlight he kept plugged into a kitchen outlet. He’d replaced the original bulb with an orange Christmas light, and the color warmed him a little. The water seemed to take a lifetime to boil. Nick poured it over the tiny cheesecloth bag filled with herbs and reminded himself to buy new elements for the stove. He was using the last one that worked, and it was about to meet its maker. The landlord wasn’t much for timely repairs.

As Nick leaned back against the counter and waited for the tea to brew he remembered the one “new and exciting” thing he could’ve told Kay about, and his eyes turned to the kitchen window. Jaed’s bedroom light glowed purple through her curtains, which meant the crazy lady with the great legs was awake, too.  Becky’s phone call had actually made him forget about her. Now he knew he was getting old.