Nantucket Blue

Thirty-three





ZACK AND I WERE AT THE BEACH when I finally opened the manila envelope from Dad. I couldn’t wait until next week, but there was something about opening a birthday present alone that was just sad. Half the fun is someone watching.

“Let’s see what you got,” Zack said. Inside was a birthday card with a sparkly fairy on it, something more appropriate for an eight-year-old. But I didn’t mind that. Dad still thought I loved girlie-girl stuff, and I smiled thinking of him searching the card aisle in CVS for something he thought was glittery enough for me. It was signed Dad and Polly, each in their own handwriting. There was also a note that said Alexi was having a sixth birthday party at their house, and if I wanted to come home for the party, they’d pay my way.

“‘Alexi wants to spend more time with his new big sister,’” I read aloud to Zack. “Yeah right. That kid doesn’t like me.” It was true. Whenever I sat at the kitchen table for dinner, he turned his chair to face the other way.

“What’s the gift?” Zack asked.

I unwrapped the present: a pair of jeans. Not just any pair. Clover, the new brand I’d seen in InStyle magazine that all the celebrities were wearing. I squealed with happiness. “Check it out,” I said, and held them up. “Oh my god, they’re awesome. I actually like them.”

“You sound so surprised,” Zack said as I slipped them over my bathing suit and spun around. They fit perfectly.

“This is a first,” I said. “My Dad met the Great Birthday Challenge.”

“What’s that?” Zack asked.

“Every year since I was twelve, Dad has bought me an outfit that he picked out himself,” I explained as I pulled the jeans off and folded them back up into the envelope. It was way too hot for jeans. “He said it was one of the great challenges of a father’s life to buy his teenage daughter clothes that she actually liked and wore. The true test would be if I didn’t exchange it.”

“What was the worst gift?” Zack asked.

“My fourteenth,” I said, and lay back in the sand. “It was a sparkly pink jean jacket.” I looked up at the clouds, remembering some of the other “fashions.” “And another time, he bought me one of those knitted dresses, but it looked like it’d been made by someone’s drunk grandma.” Zack laughed and started pouring sand over my legs in loose fistfuls. Zack was definitely a guy who thought girls were funny.

“But last year he actually came really close with this T-shirt dress thing.” I shut my eyes and pictured it. It was the absolute best version of the scoop neck, cap-sleeve, empire waist style that everyone was wearing last summer. It looked so good but also had that “I’m not even trying” look.

“So what was wrong with that one?” Zack asked, patting sand around my legs.

“It was the color of mustard.”

“Dijon or French’s?”

“Grey Poupon.” I ran the warm sand through my fingers. “I told him I loved it when I unwrapped it.”

“Why?” Zack asked. He was covering my knees now.

“It was my first birthday since the divorce, and we were eating lobster at a nice restaurant and he was looking happy again. I didn’t want to ruin it.” I realized now that Dad had probably just started dating Polly around that time. I remembered noticing how cheerful Dad had been, that the color had returned to his face. Zack scooped sand around my thighs. I continued the story. “Dad was like, ‘You really love it? You’re not going to take it back?’ and I was like, ‘Yup, I love it.’ But he didn’t believe me.” I could picture him narrowing his eyes and studying my face. The more I tried to convince him, the more obvious it was I didn’t actually love it. “I finally fessed up after the chocolate mousse.”

“Was he sad?” Zack asked, patting the sand over my legs.

“No,” I said. I remembered Dad laughing and slapping the table with his hand. “God, I came so close!” he’d said. “So close and yet so far. I’ve failed the Great Birthday Challenge again, and I don’t have that many more years left. I have to get it right while you’re a teenager.”

“It just made him more determined,” I told Zack. “He said, ‘Next year, on your eighteenth, I’m going to nail it. Mark my words. Next year I’ll have a victory, even if I have to get a subscription to Vogue.’”

“He did it,” Zack said. He was now carving a design into the sand that covered my legs. “He met the Great Birthday Challenge.”

“Yup,” I said.

“Why do you sound disappointed?” Zack asked.

“I don’t know.” Even though I loved the jeans and I wouldn’t have traded them for anything, I kind of missed the sparkly jean jacket, the floral overalls, the purple jumper. I was too old for them now. For the first time on a birthday, I actually did feel older. Zack pulled my arms so that I was sitting upright. He’d transformed my legs into a fishtail, with scales and fins.

“I’m a mermaid,” I said.

“A mer-chamber-maid,” Zack said. “A very rare species. One hasn’t washed up on these shores in a hundred years, and you need to get back in the water before the evil scientists spot you and take you to their lab for experiments.”

“Oh,” I said as he stood and opened his arms. I looked up at his eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile that was meant just for me. Warmth flooded my chest. I broke out of my sand encasement, put my arms around his neck, and hopped up. He caught my legs. “Hurry,” I said. “Get me to the sea! We don’t have much time!”

As we charged toward the water, a family of shorebirds scattered. I screamed as he dropped me in the cold salty water.