The Summer of Naked Swim Parties (17 page)

“In human years,” Renee said, and Jamie laughed.

“Younger than the moon, older than the sparrow,” Dog Feather said.

Allen lifted his eyebrows like he was waiting for more.

Betty smiled.

“Come on!” Jamie said. “Sparrows have probably been around longer than humans. So you’re saying you’re like, over two hundred thousand years old?”

“How old are you really?” Allen asked. “Did you go to college?”

“Will you all just leave Dog Feather alone!” Betty said. “He’s younger than Allen and I and older than you kids.”

“So you know his age and you’re not telling?” Jamie asked her mother.

“Your mother is very wise,” Dog Feather said.

“Yeah, she’s wise like the owl, right? Or is it wise like the slumbering wolf ?” Jamie said.

“Are you old enough to vote?” Renee asked.

“Enough!” Betty said, and her face turned stiff, like a cat watching a hamster.

Allen, Renee, and Jamie convened in the kitchen after Betty and Dog Feather had left for the museum.

“Dad, you don’t have to stay home for us,” Renee said.

“I didn’t really want to go,” he said. “I was just trying to be included.”

“I say you kick Dog Feather out of the house,” Jamie said.

“Yeah, Dad,” Renee said. “It’s your house. Mom’s your wife.”

“He makes your mother happy.” Allen sighed.

“Well he’s making me miserable!” Jamie said. “And he’s making Renee miserable too. So that’s two unhappy people versus one happy one.”

“And Dad,” Renee said, “you seem unhappy too. So that’s really three unhappy people versus one happy one.”

“Dad, he’s wearing your slippers! You love those slippers!” Jamie said.

“All our friends seem to like him.”

“Yeah, ’cause he’s got good pot,” Renee said.

“Face it, Dad,” Jamie said, “if he weren’t an Indian, I mean if he were a Mexican or something, no one would have anything to do with him.”

“How can you say that?!” Allen asked.

“It’s true, “ Renee said.

“If he were a Mexican,” Jamie said, “Mom would hire him to clean out the flower beds, not take him to the museum.”

“She’s right,” Renee said. “You need to evict him.”

“I’m going to look through his stuff,” Jamie said, and she marched out of the kitchen. Renee followed; she placed one hand on her sister’s shoulder, making a chain between them.

Allen didn’t move from the stool, but he also made no indication that he minded if his daughters rummaged through Dog Feather’s things.

Dog Feather’s backpack was propped against the wall in Allen’s study. His sleeping bag was on the floor next to the couch. There was a small zipper pouch at the bottom of the backpack. Jamie went there first.

“Maybe you should put on gloves,” Renee said.

“For fingerprints?” Jamie asked. “You think he’s going to fingerprint his backpack?”

“Your hands are always so greasy,” Renee said. “You don’t want to get caught, do you?” Jamie unzipped the pouch, pulled out a folded wad of bills and handed them to Renee.

“One hundred thirty-seven dollars,” Renee said, after a quick count.

“Hey Dad!” Jamie yelled out the door. “He’s got a hundred thirty-seven dollars!”

Next Jamie pulled out a credit card with the name Anthony Mirello; a student ID for Essex City College in Newark, New Jersey, for Anthony Mirello; a membership card for the Italian Students’ Union, also for Anthony Mirello; and a New Jersey driver’s license with a photo of Dog Feather and the name Anthony Mirello.

“Dog Feather is a murderer!” Jamie handed the cards to her sister.

“You’re such an idiot!” Renee said. “He’s a liar, not a murderer.”

“He murdered Anthony Mirello and assumed his identity!” Jamie laughed. “Look!”

“Dad!” Renee yelled. “Dog Feather is really Anthony Mirello!”

“OR ELSE HE KILLED ANTHONY MIRELLO!” Jamie was cracking herself up.

Allen showed up in the doorway.

“What are you screaming about?”

Renee handed him the four cards.

“Anthony Mirello,” Allen said. “Funny name for a Native American.”

“He’s busted!” Renee said.

“You think Mom would let anyone named Anthony Mirello mooch off her for nine days?” Jamie asked.

“No way,” Renee said.

“Maybe his mother was native and his father’s a Mirello,” Allen said.

“He said he was one hundred percent Pomo Indian,” Jamie said. “He tells everyone that he was born on the reservation and that his dad didn’t even speak English, he spoke only Pomo.”

“Mom is going to die!” Renee said. “He is totally busted!”

“Don’t tell your mother,” Allen said.

“Dad!” Renee said. “We have to tell her. She’s being duped!”

“Yeah, Dad. I mean, like, what if Flip wasn’t really a surfer dude, what if he was in the KGB or something? I’d expect you to tell me.”

“Don’t worry, Farrah,” Renee said. “You have to have intelligence to work in intelligence.” Renee avoided Flip when he was at the house and mentioned him only if she had a neat little quip to put him down.

Jamie had grown so used to Renee’s sharp tongue that she heard it as a distant murmur, the way a very old man hears his nagging old wife.

“Oh, when’s Dog Feather’s birthday?!” Jamie asked.

Allen read the license. “He’s twenty-three. Your mother said he was twenty-nine. At least that’s what he told her.”

“He is such a liar!” Renee said.

Allen handed the cards back to Jamie, who shoved them, along with the money, back into the pouch where she found them.

Then she unzipped the largest pocket, felt through some gritty clothes, and pulled out two magazines: Knockers and Penthouse.

“Gross!” She dropped the magazines on the floor.

Renee looked down at them with her head pulled back and her mouth half open.

“He’s a pervert too!” she said.

“He’s not a pervert.” Allen leaned down and picked up Knockers.

“Dad!” Renee said. “How can you touch those!” Allen flipped through the pages.

“Dad!” Renee’s voice was shrill. “Do not look at those! 
Do not look at those in front of us! That is wrong!” 

Allen laughed. “I’m just glancing,” he said.

“That’s gross,” Jamie said.

Allen shoved the magazines back into the backpack, put one hand under Jamie’s arm, and led her out of the study.

“Don’t tell your mother any of this,” he said.

“But what are we going to do?” Renee followed them out. “I mean, he’s a liar. He’s probably already gotten into your checking account and stolen all our money and—”

“He’s probably convinced Mom that she needs to sign over the house to him. I mean, you know how she is about things—”

“Yeah,” Renee said. “Mom thinks things have no value, so she probably did give him the house—”

“Like your slippers, Dad, I mean, she already gave him your slippers!” Jamie said.

“Girls!” Allen said. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” Renee was usually the first person awake in the house, but the next morning, the day after they discovered that Dog Feather was Anthony Mirello, Jamie woke up earlier than her sister. She 
went downstairs, glancing at her father’s closed study door as she turned toward the kitchen. Betty was at the kitchen counter in her red kimono bathrobe, reading the paper.

“Good morning,” Jamie said.

Betty turned the page and sighed.

“Mom? Are you making anything good this morning? I’m dying for some waffles.”

“Huh?” Betty didn’t look up.

“Are you making breakfast?”

“No, no. You can cook if you want to.”

“But you’ve been making all these great things for Dog Feather and I haven’t been that hungry and now I’m really hungry and this is the day you’re not cooking?” Betty put the paper down and stared at her daughter.

“What are your plans for today?” she asked.

“I dunno. Go to the beach with Flip. Hang out with Tammy and Debbie maybe. What are you and Dog Feather doing?”

“He left.” Betty picked up the paper and scowled.

“Why’d he leave?”

“It’s the Indian way,” Betty said.

“Native American way,” Jamie said.

Betty rolled her eyes.

“He wasn’t a real Indian,” Jamie said.

Betty put down the paper and stared at Jamie.

“You’re such a skeptic. You get that from your father.” Jamie said nothing.

“Of course Dog Feather was an Indian.” Betty picked up the paper again.

“Dog Feather? Who would really name a child dog feather?”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say, unless it’s something kind and generous. Just because someone is named something that you think is silly doesn’t mean he’s not a valuable person. All people are worth being nice to, whether they’re Native American or Jewish or Christian or Buddhist or—”

“What about the Jews for Jesus? Dad always says they’re morons.”

“You should be kind to morons too! Kindness is not something you should dole out according to whom you think is or isn’t worth it!”

Betty stared at Jamie to drive in her point, then handed her a receipt for $3.99 for a keychain purchased in the Yosemite Valley Country Store.

“You spent three ninety-nine on a keychain?!” 

Betty grabbed the receipt, turned it over, and handed it back to Jamie. 
“It’s Dog Feather’s receipt,” Betty said. “He wrote a note on the back.”

“Why didn’t he just use a piece of paper?”

“I’m sure he was trying to save trees by using a receipt instead of fresh paper. We should all follow his example.”

“I’m not going to write letters on the backs of receipts!”

“Jamie, just read the note.”

“My Friends,” Jamie read aloud, “The winds have changed, the time has come, and this feather must blow on to another journey. 
Thank you for you kindness and hospitality. The sunshine of your generosity will carry me far in this journey. Peace, Dog Feather.” Betty looked at her daughter, waiting for a response.

“Mom,” Jamie said, “I know you don’t like it when I’m critical, but even you have to admit that Jan could write a better note than this.”

“What’s wrong with that note?”

“The winds have changed?! The sunshine of your generosity? That’s so corny. And he uses the word journey twice. I mean, journey? Does he think he’s Christopher Columbus or something?”

“For godsakes, he’s a Native American! Give the guy a break!”

Betty’s eyes welled and glassed, and suddenly Jamie understood that it wasn’t Dog Feather who needed a break, but her mother. And she gave it to her.

Renee was angry because her mother wouldn’t take the film from the pictures she had taken at Outward Bound to the Quik-Photo drive-thru booth where they’d be developed in a few hours. She had been home twelve days and still had no photos to prove what she had gone though.

The reason Betty wouldn’t take Renee’s film to the drive-thru booth was that they were having a party and she was wholly focused on that.

“Honey, this party’s for you, in part,” Betty told Renee.

Betty talked to her daughters as she passed by them. She had been walking through the kitchen to the backyard and into the kitchen again in an endless loop. Each time she swooped by there was something different in her hands.

Candles on her way out, wet towels on her way in, aluminum tubs that would be filled with ice and drinks on her way out, two pairs of Jamie’s flip-flops on the way in.

“Naked Leon and Lois and all your other naked friends are not my idea of a party for me,” Renee said.

“There’ll be other kids too,” Betty said “The same kids who were at most of our parties last summer, and all the 
kids who were at the last party. Those cute boys who are around your age, Mitch and Paul, they’ll be here. And the pretty Layman twins.”

“Flip will be here,” Jamie said.

“Flip should be named Flip-Flop,” Renee said, “because he has the brains of one.”

Jamie started to tell her sister that flip-flops were Flip’s favorite type of shoe and that Flip had once told her (in a drunken slur) that anyone who wore flip-flops was in a way advertising their love for him, Flip, without the flop; but she realized the story would not work in Flip’s favor.

Besides, there was no point in trying to proselytize Renee into worshipping the greatness of Flip. She was as stuck on hating him as Jamie was on loving him.

Allen came into the kitchen through the garage; he was smiling, excited.

“I got it!” he said. “They’re setting it up right now.” Betty walked to the back yard and peered out. Jamie and Renee hopped off the kitchen stools and followed their mother. There were three men walking down the hill carrying a box almost as long and wide as the pool.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see,” Allen said. “It’s a present for you kids.”

“We’re too old for a swing set, Dad,” Renee said.

“I know,” Allen said.

“We’re too old for a geodesic dome too,” Jamie said.

That year, geodesic domes had been erected all around town. There was one at the elementary school, one at the East Beach playground, one at the drive-in movie theater where the family often went on Sundays for the Swap Meet. There was also a giant one built as a house near Isla Vista Beach with triangular windows seemingly scattered 
at random, and a front door that contained the only right angle on the house.

“It’s better than a geodesic dome,” Allen said.

Renee walked out past the pool and gardens to get a better look, then ran back to tell Jamie they were assembling a trampoline.

“Why’d you tell her?!” Allen said. “I didn’t want Jamie to see it until it was completely set up.”

“What about me?” Renee asked. “You didn’t care if I saw it before it was set up?”

“You ran off before I could stop you,” Allen said. “Did you see how big it is? It’s industrial-sized, the kind of trampoline they have for circuses.”

“Let’s go!” Jamie said, and she ran to the trampoline with her parents and sister following. Betty climbed up with the girls and the three of them jumped while Allen signed papers on a clipboard, which had been handed to him by one of the workers.