Nantucket Blue

Thirty





“THAT WAS SO WEIRD TODAY,” Zack said that night when he crawled in my window. “You were so nervous. You were sweating.”

“But you don’t think she caught on, do you?” I asked. I was sitting on my bed in a tank top and the girlie boxers I wore as pajamas.

“No way,” he said. “She has no idea.” I sighed and closed my eyes. Inside I tuned to the relief channel, but quickly switched to the guilt channel and back to relief and then guilt again. I hadn’t been able to get Jules out of my head. The worst part was how badly I wanted to share with her what was happening to me. I wanted to tell her how I wasn’t doing that thing that I do with guys, making mental notes of who had called or texted whom last, always keeping score and trying to stay on top. I wasn’t planning out what I would say to Zack in advance or practicing lines that I thought might make him like me more. I was just being me. I wanted to tell her how I was actually enjoying making out, not just because it reassured me that a guy liked and wanted me, but because it felt good. And I wanted to know how she was. I wanted to hear her stories. The guilt channel was on full blast now, hissing its fuzzy reception. How to make it stop? I promised her, silently, to stop this with Zack.

“I’m too old for you,” I said, sliding down the bed, away from him.

“I know. A whole eighteen months or something. You’re corrupting me.” He slid closer. “Have you ever had sex?”

“No.” I pulled back, examining his face. “You have?” He nodded, laughing at my shocked expression. “Valerie?”

“She is French,” he said.

“Were you in eighth grade?” He nodded. “Eighth grade?”

He snaked his hand around my waist, but I pushed it away.

“Does Jules know?”

“No.”

“Did your mom know?”

“No.” He put a hand on my knee.

“We shouldn’t be doing this. We really shouldn’t.” I stood up and walked to the other side of the tiny room.

“Don’t say that,” he said, following me. He kissed me. I pulled away.

“But we can’t keep doing this. I was thinking about what you said about the wall around Jules. And I feel like I looked over the wall today for like a second, and I saw how sad she really is. And if we keep doing what we’re doing, I’m just going to be heaping more sadness on her.”

“Okay, well…” He let go of my hand. “Let’s get away from the bed. Let’s go somewhere,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I need you to put on as many clothes as possible.”

“Oh, I know,” I said, remembering George and the shiver. I grabbed a sweatshirt. “Let’s go see the ghost.”

I told him about George getting the chills, as we headed out to the white cross in the land yacht. We drove by a few times, seeing if one of us would get the chills, but nothing happened. So we just parked in front of it. We sat and waited for something to happen, for the temperature to drop or a ghostly pair of bell-bottoms to strut past the headlights.

“Where does Jules think you go at night?” I asked as we waited. The air was soft and still and full of summer. The crickets were loud.

“She doesn’t know I’m gone. No one knows I’m gone.” He slapped a mosquito on his arm.

“What about your dad?”

“Jules is so out of it right now, and with my dad, it’s like an actor is playing him. A bad actor. They won’t even say her name. It’s like living with people who are only half here.”

“I know what that’s like,” I said, thinking of Mom and the way I could look into her eyes and see she was somewhere else, somewhere very far away that I didn’t know about. It made me want to scream at her. Life was happening here in front of her, not in that faraway world. “I know exactly what that’s like.”

I pushed the seat back and dangled my feet out the window. We sat there in silence for a bit, each of us in our own world. The image of Jay’s face came to my mind. I could hear him telling me off. I could hear myself telling Jules I thought his brother was a loser. My whole body tensed as I remembered it. I wish I’d never told Jules anything. What about my other secrets, the other things I shouldn’t have said but did because I’d trusted her? Forget girls who died decades ago; words were ghosts. They were what haunted me.

“I don’t think the ghost girl is going to show,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Ghost girl’s not into us. Let’s go someplace better.”

We went to Steps. The moon was three-quarters full—bright, glowing, shining on the black ocean. The waves were low and calm. We rolled up our jeans and walked in up to our ankles. The water was warm, holding the memory of the sun.

“That’s it, I’m going in. I have to,” Zack said. I watched as he lifted his sweatshirt and T-shirt off his head in one move. He was so lean and strong.

“In your underwear?” I asked.

“Hell, no,” Zack said, and unbuttoned his jeans. I covered my mouth with my hands. He met my gaze and pulled them down, with his boxers, over his hips. There it was! I’d felt it, but I hadn’t seen it. “Oh my god,” I said, not realizing I was thinking aloud.

“Feast your eyes.” He laughed. Then he beat his chest and let out a war cry.

“Zack!” I laughed, intoxicated.

He turned around, faced the ocean. Boy butts are so different, so compact. “Woo-hoo!” He whooped, ran into the waves, and dove under. “It’s perfect,” he said when his head popped up. “You have to come in. It’s beautiful.”

“I can’t,” I said, remembering my promise to myself about Jules.

“Your loss,” Zack said. “It’s amazing in here.” It looked amazing. He looked amazing bobbing up and down in the silvery black water. I thought of Mom’s words to Emily Dickinson: What is life, if not for living? I took a deep breath, then stripped off my clothes and ran in, covering myself with my hands until I was in the water. I slipped under a gentle wave, and when I came up, Zack was in front of me. He was smiling but serious, and I felt my cheeks brighten. He took my hands and pulled me close to him.

“Come to me, mermaid,” he said.

“La le loo-loo la lee loo.” I floated my legs up, dipped my head back, and sang an off-key mermaid song. I felt like the moon itself, all lit up. Then I noticed little lights around us in the water.

“Oh my god, what is this?” I asked. The water was sparking, glowing, like there were fireflies underwater.

“Phosphorescence,” he said, splashing the water to make it glow.

“It’s crazy.” I ran my hands through the water, trying to catch it, then kicked my legs up and floated around on my back. I wasn’t made of bones anymore. I was made of starfish and moonlight and phosphorescence. I started laughing for no reason at all.

“What?” Zack asked, treading water, his hands leaving trails of light.

I put my feet back on the bottom and laughed again. I’d never felt so full, so bright, so completely alive. “I think,” I started, but then ducked back under, finishing the thought underwater so that I’d get to say it, but he wouldn’t hear. I think I’m in love.