The Invaders (17 page)

•  •  •

I had sunburn and windburn from sailing with Teddy all day. My back hurt from being hunched over for hours, keeping my attention on the flapping sail and sturdy mast. It was so freeing to be on the water, the only thing to guide us was a desire to be as far away from Little Neck Cove as possible, even if just for a little while. When we finally decided to turn around, neither of us anticipated how long it would take to sail back. The water felt endless and curled beneath us, sending the front of the boat jutting up and jerking. We oriented ourselves carefully on the boat and I was in control of this fast-moving vessel. When was the last time I could say that I had been in control? Now I understood why Teddy would spend endless hours on the boat, why he sometimes chose to drift. For a moment, you could feel no tethers to anything. You just had one distinct purpose—to keep yourself righted.

At home in front of the mirror, I thought about how close I was getting to fifty. A few more years I wouldn't notice passing. What then? Eye the young ones with more venom? I didn't want to feel this way anymore. I wanted to be the one to benefit from someone's youth. My face had always been a bit pudgy, and looking at myself now, I saw the kind of thin face I had dreamed about as a teenager. I didn't think I could possibly feel worse than my fourteen-year-old self, but here it was. I couldn't bounce back like I used to and it made me think about all the mistakes, the chances I didn't take, the changes I had been afraid to make. What was I going to do now? The biotin treatments I had purchased at the drugstore in town didn't seem to be working. Perhaps I should have bought the ones not on sale, the more expensive brand with the dark
and serious packaging. I pretended my creams and jars were the expensive kind, so I could justify the money I was setting aside to send to my mother. I did more with less, so she could have the money. I was the closest child, the youngest daughter, and I was the one with the obligation.

How many times a day would I spend my time standing in the bathroom hoping to find someone better there? I opened the bathroom drawer and found lipsticks and shiny bottles of foundation and blush, and mountains of samples. Eye cream, face cream, serum, whitening toothpaste, samples of perfume ranging from exotic smells to ho-hum tuberose. I had slickly-decorated squares of shampoos and conditioners and hair mud masks. I hadn't touched any of them; I just kept them in piles in my drawer. There were small plastic bottles of lotions and shampoos from the hotels Jeffrey visited, piles of them. He had deposited them along with my samples and had slowly been using them, not buying his own shampoo in years. He lived out of these small bottles, even when he was at home.

It was a way of tracking him, making sure he was actually where he said he was. After each trip he'd pull his small black carrying case out of his luggage and tug at the collection of plastic bottles and arrange them in my drawer. Some he placed inside the shower, in a line around the edges of the square shower. I made a space for the plastic bottles that he would soon be depositing but didn't throw away my own, even though some had started to leak and I'm sure it upset him.

I moved my hand deeper into the drawer and pulled out Teddy's diazepam and fondled the bottle, touching the orange bottle with the paper label almost lovingly. I hadn't felt the pull or strength of something this strong since I first met Jeffrey and couldn't stand to be away from him.

I put it back for later, deep inside, so Teddy wouldn't find it.

But that didn't work at all, so I took one and then I put the bottle back. Just one.

I looked at myself, at the makeup I had previously applied, smoothed out my outfit, and waited for the pill to take effect. It was small and unassuming in my palm when I was holding it, like candy. They even had them in pastel colors to make them more pleasant to look at. I thought that Teddy probably had other ways of getting stronger medicine than diazepam, so everything was fine.

As soon as the pill began to work, I would be ready to go to the clambake and face them. Teddy was going, too.

“You ready?” Teddy asked, walking into the bathroom.

I looked at him, madras plaid shorts, boat shoes that needed to be thrown away, and a long-sleeve button-down shirt, I assume to cover his arm. He'd wandered around the house for weeks in his gym shorts, so this was a significant change.

“I think so,” I said. “You look good.”

“Thanks, this is me trying.”

“I can tell,” I said. “Do I look scared?”

“What are you so scared about? You didn't do thousands of dollars of damage to the place,” Teddy said.

“No one remembers that anymore. Not since Nora's ex-husband got drunk and naked and jumped into the pool,” I said.

“That's true. At least I keep my dick in my pants in front of other people.”

He scratched at his head with his good arm and laughed. I stared at his limp arm and he caught me staring at it and turned away and I heard his shoes walking quickly down the hall. I looked at myself and applied blush once again. The pill was working; I didn't care about anything, really.

•  •  •

Teddy and I walked along the seawall, once again ignoring the signs that said no trespassing in bright red.

“Soon the whole horizon line will be covered with these signs,” he said.

“They want to make sure there's no room for discussion,” I said.

He walked in front of me and dangled his arm down next to him. I stared at the long scar on the back of his head and wondered where he'd gotten it, if Jeffrey had hit him. He was certainly capable of it. I saw the scar for the first time when I shaved Teddy's head but didn't think to ask about the jagged divide between his head and neck. Teddy turned to look, almost like he was making sure I was still there. I smiled at him, tried to radiate some kind of bravery for him. A crowd of seersucker had formed on the lawn and we both hesitated for a moment. Finally, he jumped off the seawall and opened the latch on the gate, which had its own tasteful sign reiterating that no one should be here.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“No, are you?”

“Fuck no,” he said.

Teddy slowed and fell back, walking next to me. I was trying to get oriented, but I was moving slowly because of the diazepam.

“There's Cronin,” he said.

I didn't want to turn around and face Steven, but I finally did.

“Man, he's fucked up,” Teddy said.

There was a crisscross of scars over Steven's face, his cheek still swollen.
Maybe
he
wanted it
, I thought. Maybe he was asking for it. I could see his eyes and I had not gotten the memory of them wrong. He watched me now like I had wanted him to before. I wanted to know what he was thinking. If he hated me. I felt ashamed for even caring.

Someone grabbed me from behind and I nearly jumped a foot. I turned and it was Tuck.

“Oh, come on. You could hear me coming,” he said, smiling.

Teddy looked at us both, uneasy, and walked away.

Tuck leaned in close. “So, have you found out yet?”

“What?”

“What's wrong with you?” he asked. “Are you high? Do you need to sit down?”

I made a face and shook my head while he laughed.

“Even if I were high, I'd never tell you,” I said.

“I can keep a secret. What's wrong?”

“Do you want the short list or the long one?” I asked.

“Whichever is more heartbreaking,” he said, winking at me.

“Gee, I don't know, that one's kinda long.”

He leaned in close and I could smell him—salt water and stale beer.

“You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“I don't know,” I said.

“Someone called me and talked dirty to me last night,” he said, laughing.

“No,” I said, backing away.

“I know, right? Sixteen-year-old self is back in action.”

“Why don't you just hang up the phone?”

“I kinda like it.” He smiled again. I made a face and he continued, “I pretend it's my wife.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It's true. Maybe I'm going to ask her to start calling me and talking to me. Or sexting.”

“Tuck, god.”

“Did I cross a line? Are you uncomfortable?”

I was absolutely mortified at the thought that he might know it was me. But if he did, he didn't let on.

“I don't care about the sex you have with your wife.”

“Gotta keep it fresh,” he said.

“At least you're not looking around at them.”

I waved toward the young girls strutting around in eyelet dresses, playing prim for their parents.

“Been there, done that,” Tuck said.

I looked at him in disgust.

“I briefly taught at a boarding school. That's where I met my wife,” he said.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I'm joking,” he said and winked at me. “Lighten up. Sex is fun.”

“I wouldn't know anymore.”

Tuck said, “See, that shocks me. You gotta do it to remember you're not alone.”

I watched as he sauntered away and pulled his bike out of the bushes. He was definitely drunk. I turned to see if anyone else was seeing what I was seeing but no one was paying any attention. He put his beer glass in a plastic cup holder on his handlebars and started pedaling away from the hum of conversation. I felt a flash of envy. His wife was one of the lucky ones.

“Oh, Cheryl, it's been ages!”

I turned around to see Lori in a low-cut tank top and capri pants. Her massive breasts were hanging down in the middle. I hadn't seen her much since she was yelling in the face of the old fisherman, shooing away his dog. She looked at me expectantly, searching my face to see if I would yell at her again. I didn't have the energy.

“How are you feeling? Can you believe it all?” she asked.

I didn't know what “all” she was talking about, so I just nodded.

“Funny that you'd come by here,” she said.

“Why's that?” I knew what she was getting at, but I wanted her to say it.

“Well, under the circumstances,” she said.

“What circumstances are those?”

“Oh, Cheryl.” She clutched my arm and laughed nervously.

“Aren't you going to ask how he's doing?” I said.

“He's right over there! He looks wonderful,” she said. “How's his arm?”

“He's working really hard,” I answered.

I turned and looked at Teddy talking to Steven. They were both imperfect now, set aside from the rest of the men in pastel tones.

Steven looked past Teddy right at me. He stared at me with recognition. A waiter came by with some champagne and I quickly gulped a glass down.

“When the cat's away, the mouse will play, eh?”

“What?” I asked.

Lori was smirking at me, pointing at my empty glass.

“I was thirsty,” I said.

“Fran's poor son. You can hardly stand to look at him,” she said.

It was true. What I had done to him was permanent and visible to anyone who had looked at him. I had seen shadows of him since the incident, but this was the first time I was seeing him since he had healed. I didn't know how to feel. I had questioned what happened daily.

“Maybe he deserved it,” I said.

“I don't think it was a fisherman at all,” Lori said, raising an eyebrow. “I just don't believe it. Doesn't fit the pattern.” She said “pattern” like she was some kind of detective. I asked her what pattern, but she wouldn't elaborate. Did she think someone was going around smashing people's faces?

“Do you think they happened before? Attacks?” I asked.

“You want insider information,” she said, winking at me. “This community is not all peachy.”

“I know. I'm not new,” I said.

“Some people always feel a bit new, don't you think?” she said.

There were unfamiliar faces, younger women. They must have been new club members. They were young like I was when I first became a member. No jowls or loose neck skin. They would have them soon enough; I could already see their husbands peering around, looking at all those low-cut dresses, short skirts, and tanned, athletic legs. The still-vibrant wives chased after their children. What I noticed most was that none of those men looked at me like I was a possibility.

Coming here was a bad idea, I knew that for sure now. Lori lingered nearby but without more to talk about she faded back into a group of
other women in the Tuesday-morning golf group. I heard them talking about handicaps and cheaters. I thought about handicaps, my own, and now Teddy's. I looked around for him and found him still talking to Steven.

How would Steven, with his scarred face, find women to take to the Captain's Lounge? Sit with his parents and his date, her skirt grazing her mid-thigh, her breasts that his father would look at. His face couldn't court that kind of girl anymore. Why hadn't he told someone? I wanted to corner him and shake him. Ask him what he was up to. There had to be a reason he was hiding this secret for us. I would think he would be afraid I could spill it all. Tell everyone what kind of person he was. He was acting like he had nothing to hide, like he was a victim.

I hurried toward the pool's locker rooms. I listened as the women laughed and washed their hands. They were talking about how good the calamari was this year and how all their kids wanted lobster for dinner but they hated cracking the shells for them.

If I had a child, I would crack the shell each time. They didn't know what they had. I sat on the toilet seat in a stall, waiting for the women to leave, but more came in. They were adjusting bras and fixing lipstick and if I came out of the stall now they would know that I had been eavesdropping.

One of them said, “God, I wish I had more than wine.” When they finally stepped out of the bathroom, I came out of the stall. I didn't like seeing myself, hunched over, nearly cowering, and weak. These women didn't own me; they weren't better than me. They were just younger versions of me and soon enough they would be me.