Everybody's Daughter (17 page)

“Well, it looked a lot worse from the bleachers,” he said. “What a dumb game.”

“Dad!” Beamer protested.

“That’s just what I’ve been saying all winter,” said Andy. “She never listens, though.”

Mr. Flynn smiled at Andy. “Give this boy a key chain.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” said Beamer, and she fished a handful out of a large bin. “Take enough for the family.”

Andy examined one. “Oh, no,” he said. “This is really awful.”

The ornament of the key chain was a clear plastic rectangle with the shop’s name and address printed on one side. Inside the plastic, preserved perfectly,
with its mouth gaping, was a tiny minnow.

“I don’t understand it,” said Mrs. Flynn, “but we give away at least three thousand every festival.” Mr. and Mrs. Flynn turned then to attend to other visitors. Beamer and Andy wandered off.

“I don’t want to sound critical,” said Andy, “but this isn’t exactly the souvenir you would expect to get from committed vegetarians.”

“Don’t ask me to explain their philosophies. Don’t ask them to.”

“Is there something to watch now,” he said, “or should we eat?”

Beamer thought. “Well, the snow golfing is fun, but that’s almost over, I bet. Have you seen the snow sculptures?”

“Yes. I wasn’t impressed.”

“The snowmobile races should be starting. That’s weird enough to be fun.”

“What’s so weird about it? They have them every weekend.”

“This is different. They race over the pond.”

“But it’s mostly open water.”

“That’s right.”

Andy stopped walking and was immediately bumped from behind. The person swore and passed. Beamer grabbed his elbow and pulled him along. “They race their snowmobiles on water?”

She nodded. “They go one-on-one. They start on snow, race along a twenty-foot path, then hit open water. It’s about a thousand feet across to solid ground. Some of them don’t make it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They try to race their machines across open water. By momentum, mostly. The driver often ends up swimming to shore. The snowmobile is marked with a little float that shows where it sank so they can tow it out.”

“Grown men and women do this?”

“They even pay. There’s a fifty-dollar entry fee.”

Andy let out a low, soft whistle. “I think I’d rather eat some hot dogs.”

They purchased their food and carried it to an empty table. As the snowmobile race began, a crowd formed near the pond, which left the booths and food stands almost empty.

“Lousy day for a picnic,” Andy said. He blew on his bare fingers, then laced them around his cocoa cup.

“No, it’s a perfect day. It’s warm enough to be outside comfortably, but not so warm that the snow gets soft and messy. If—” The roaring sound of snowmobile engines interrupted. Andy turned and looked toward the pond.

“How can we carry on a conversation with that din?”

“You’ll get used to it. There, they’ve stopped already.” The engines were silent, but the crowd watching the race had erupted into cheers, laughter, and applause.

“Did someone just sink?”

“Probably.”

Andy swore softly. “What idiots,” he added.

“Lighten up, okay? I feel like dumping you in a pond.”

A dog came and sniffed at their table. Andy prodded it with his boot. “Beat it, mutt,” he said. The dog left.

“What is your problem today?” Beamer said. “I’ve never seen you like this. Time of the month or something?”

Andy sipped his cocoa and stared at Beamer. “My problem is you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last week when you left me at the hospital, where did you go?”

She didn’t answer.

“I was watching the game with your brother today. He said he had to cover for you at the store last Sunday because you were having lunch with Martin. Is that right? You rushed away from me so you could go have lunch with him?”

“We had pie, not lunch.”

“Oh, that makes a difference.”

“Andy, if you are going to throw a tantrum every time I see him—”

“I don’t care if you see him, as long as you see me. As long as you want to see me.” His voice softened. “And I don’t know if you do.”

He had left a perfect opening. Beamer cautiously entered. “Actually, you’re making this easy.”

“What?”

“I was going to wait until later, but I guess I might as well do it now. I want to break up, Andy.”

He groaned. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Why? It is Martin. I’ve been a fool all along, right? It’s Martin? That guy has just breezed in and ruined everything.”

“It’s not Martin.”

“Why, then?”

Beamer poked a hole in her hot dog bun with her little finger. “I just think I should care more.”

“What?”

“If we’re going to keep on the way we’re going, I think I should care more.”

“Care more? I don’t buy it, Bea. All those times together, all the talks. Saying goodnight in the back of the bait shop. Don’t lie to me.” He leaned forward. “It’s because I brought up sex, right? But we settled that. We won’t.”

“Andy, it has gotten to be too much. It’s like you’re suddenly wrapping your arms around me and instead of feeling good, it’s just too damn tight.”

A wind gust blew over Andy’s half-empty cocoa cup. He let it lie, the cocoa dripping onto the snow.

“You’ve broken up with Allison and you’ve told me you love me. And I feel like I should do something for you. But I can’t.”

“It’s the Woodies,” he said, his words clipped.

“They have nothing to do with this, Andy.”

“Maybe not directly, but they’re there.”

“How so?”

“Bea, you have worked so hard for so long at not loving the Woodies that now you can’t even admit you love anybody. You can’t throw them out of your
life, so instead you get rid of me.” He dropped his hot dog onto his plate and drummed a quick, hard cadence on the table with his fingers. He didn’t look at Beamer, who was watching him intently. “You’re lying to yourself, Bea. It’s a big lie.”

Andy rose and walked away. Beamer stayed at the table, staring at the remains of her lunch. A raucous roar from the pond signaled the sinking of another snowmobile. She had been planning this all week. Planning what she’d say, when she’d say it, anticipating his response. It hadn’t gone right, but it was done. Still, it would have been easier if he hadn’t cried.

Chapter 18

Beamer did not look forward to school on Monday. She called Sarah after returning home from WinterFest and announced her breakup with Andy; she was certain that everyone would know by Monday. Everyone did, and everyone wanted details. “There’s nothing to say,” Beamer said repeatedly. “We just broke up.”

The heavy questioning persisted only through lunch hour; then it was old news. Beamer was eating lunch with friends in the cafeteria when she saw Andy across the crowded room. He was sitting alone, eating and staring at nothing.

Someone tapped Beamer on the shoulder. She turned and saw Josh Samuels, athlete
extraordinaire,
honor student, and tenor soloist. Josh straddled the chair next to Beamer’s. “Is it all true,” he said, “what I hear about you and the sensitive artist?”

“All true.”

“They say you’re not talking about why. I bet I know why.”

“Tell me why, Josh.”

“It’s that Martin. Everyone has been waiting for the two of you to give up that brother-and-sister act.”

“No, Josh.”

He leaned closer. “Then I’ll guess again. Andy came out of the closet, right? Confessed he likes boys better than he likes girls?”

Beamer leaned back in her chair. “Oh, Josh. You are such an idiot.”

He shrugged. “He’s a strange one, that’s for sure. Anyway, what really matters is now you are free. So let’s do something this weekend.”

Her friends were picking up their lunch refuse and pretending not to listen. Beamer stood up. “I’m free, Josh, but not interested.”

That week Beamer turned down three other boys when they suggested a movie, a party, bowling on the weekend. She said no to Sarah’s suggestion that they crash a dance at the community college, and she told Wendy that she didn’t think she could make it to her birthday celebration.

After classes on Friday she hurried to her bus, wanting to avoid Andy, whose last class was held near her locker. Martin was standing close to the buses. “I’m glad I caught you,” he said. “Something came up with a friend at school and so I’m going to Chicago for a while.”

“Anything serious?”

“Probably not. Anyway, it’s a good excuse to get away. Sort of a spiritual sabbatical.”

“Tell the truth now: you just can’t take the cold. What about your show?”

“Elizabeth is going to substitute. Will you feed the cat? Here are my keys.”

“Sure. You could have just left them at the store.”

“I was in town and I wanted to say goodbye.” Beamer’s bus was about to leave. Martin touched her shoulder lightly, and Beamer boarded. She watched him until he was out of sight, then sat still with her eyes closed. Winter break started Wednesday. Nearly two weeks of no school. She had been looking forward to it, but now, with Andy out of her life and Martin gone, the vacation would be empty, long and lonely.

*

It was a long vacation. During the days Beamer worked in the store, and at night she retreated to her room. She read, cleaned her desk, reorganized her bureau drawers, ripped down all her posters, and thought about painting the walls. She knit a cap for Johnny and started a sweater for her father.

Josh and two other boys called and asked for a date. She turned each one down. On Friday Sarah invited her to go shopping and restaurant hopping in Minneapolis for two days. Beamer said no. On Saturday Jessie suggested they go skiing. Beamer said no. On Tuesday night a carload of friends stopped at the store and urged Beamer to join them for pizza and dancing at a club in a nearby town. Beamer said she didn’t feel well, and went to bed at nine.

She was finally getting sleepy at ten-thirty when her mother walked into her room.

“Don’t you believe in knocking?” said Beamer.

“I read somewhere that a good clue a child is using drugs is when he never comes out of his bedroom.”

“Oh.”

“That’s not the problem, though, is it?”

“What problem? I don’t have any problem.”

“Why don’t you call Andy? Seems to me you miss him.” Mrs. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed.

“Thanks for the advice, Mom, but you don’t know anything about it.”

“Enlighten me.”

“And have you share my feelings and the details of my life with Peter and Sue and Jenny and Maud and every Joe Blow who stops by for a can of worms? Sorry, Mom, but this is my life and I’m holding on to it.”

If she had poked her mother in the eye, the pain could not have been more obvious. Mrs. Flynn rose. “I don’t think I’d do that,” she said softly. “I have some sense.”

Beamer sat up. “Mom, look—don’t get too frantic over me. I’m okay. I’m just bored. I guess that’s why I’m so sulky. If I miss anyone, it’s probably Martin. He’s the one I did things with this winter.”

Mrs. Flynn turned slightly and light from the hall illuminated her face. Quickly and clearly concern wiped away the hurt in her expression. “Martin?” She crossed her arms, as if that act of restraint could stifle the words that were ready to come. “Well,” she said lightly, falsely, “if boredom is your problem, the cure for that is to do something.”

“I will.”

Mrs. Flynn began to leave the room, then paused. “Did he mention to you that he would be seeing his old girlfriend in Chicago? He told Jenny they’d run up a fortune in phone bills during the past few weeks. I hope it works out. Goodnight, dear.” She closed the door, sealing the room in darkness.

Beamer lay back, no closer to sleep than she had been at noon.
His old girlfriend
?
she thought.
Well, why not? That’s fine with me. After all, Martin had nothing to do with why I broke up with Andy. I’m certain of that
.
She punched her pillow into a mound.
I think
.

The next morning Beamer waited until she was reasonably sure that Sarah was awake, then called her. Sarah complained about the early phone call. “It’s nine-thirty, for Pete’s sake,” said Beamer. “I’ve already sold buckets of bait.”

“What do you want?”

“Any chance you’ll run into Josh today?” Josh and Sarah were neighbors.

“Maybe. He usually goes with my brother to the gym to play basketball.”

“Well, do me a favor and tell him that I’m still free and suddenly interested.”

*

Simpson’s was packed with its usual crowd. Beamer studied her barely touched slice of pie, then offered it to Josh, who ate it. They picked up their checks and
coats and walked to the register. Beamer was behind Josh and felt dwarfed by his linebacker’s bulk; he was the only date who had ever made her feel so small.