Little Did I Know: A Novel (24 page)

Whatever had sent me more than a half-mile out to sea had begun to wear off. I was taking in increasing amounts of water and I was now shivering, my lips blue, my limbs numb. I wanted to shout, but I was breathless and no words were audible. I treaded water, but my legs cramped. I still heard shouts that sounded like “hold on,” “stay strong,” and “we got you,” but with each passing second the words faded, becoming indecipherable. All sounds were muted now and everything moved in slow motion.

I was ice. Exhausted, I went under, cold and limp. Light flickered above me with no direction or purpose. I was under for a while. As I pushed myself up with all my might to catch some air, I came away with more water than I could handle. I choked, my lungs filling with water as black as tea. Then I saw nothing, felt nothing but a deep, bone-chilling cold . . . In a final instant I was no longer conscious.

I
lay in my room directly off the compound on the first floor of the red house. I was wrapped in so many blankets that I felt mummified. My head was throbbing and my bones were still ice. Most of the witnesses from yesterday’s near-catastrophic event had left shortly after I was safe on land. The difference between tragedy and anecdote is faint. They had almost seen my death play out and wanted to build a Chinese wall around my impetuous behavior.

Bobby Stevens was the first to visit me. He was terse and made me feel the fool. He acknowledged that it could have been he who had partaken of the PCP-laced pot, he who might have acted outside the boundaries of safety. However, I was the one who had gathered everyone here in Plymouth, and my responsibility to be a grown up transcended the others’. He told me he hadn’t joined up to promote or condone tragedy. He was grateful I was all right, yet this was a business arrangement. His loyalty was to the opportunity and not to foolishness, no matter how benign it appeared before taking a turn into darkness.

“Are you staying on?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “Even fools overcome their mistakes. I still have faith in you, but don’t fuck up again.”

“I promise,” I said. Then he left without a smile.

It was close to midnight. Since everyone was gone, the compound was silent, yet the wind whipped the trees, and the rain spanked the buildings and pelted the windows as if threatening to break and enter.

After a while, Secunda came in without knocking. He wore a heavy expression and his energy was low. He stood for a long time, his arms resting across his chest, staring intently at me. It was uncomfortable, and he made no effort to soften the mood. At last he pulled up the only chair in the room and sat very close to the side of my bed.

“You’re okay, that’s good. This was reckless. I’ve known you a long time and seen you do some crazy things. You never should have been so careless. Put yourself in danger, all of this in danger. My brother has already heard it from me. I asked him to find out where that pot came from. Then we’re going to deal with it and it will all be over. Over.”

He looked tired and sad. His shoulders sagged, his strength was drained. He looked old and lacked his usual aura of force and menace. “I don’t care what happens next as long as it is what you want and you are safe. We close tomorrow and send everyone home. No sweat. We lose some money, but not our way. You matter more than this dream.”

I bristled. “You know, if you throw an interception on the first set of downs, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t play the game.”

“I’m playing. But not to lose. If you put us in a position to lose, then I think we should all go home.” He leaned over me and kissed my forehead like a father putting a young son to bed. He walked out of the room without further comment.

I lay there searching my soul. This was my gig. And I needed to hold myself to a higher standard. When Sidney called me a moron a few weeks ago, he was right. No chasing windmills or fighting battles that even if won were not worth the pain or the bloodshed. Drink in moderation, chase the girls, and maintain perspective. Tonight could have been a tragedy. Instead, it was a wakeup call.

The door to my room opened slightly and without sound. No one appeared, and I thought perhaps it was the wind. After a moment, Veronica entered without a word. She looked wan and tense with an air of vulnerability. She greeted me with a nod and whispered a barely audible, “Hi.” Then she sat in the chair next to the bed with her hands folded in her lap. Her eyes met my gaze but there was nothing to say.

Less than an hour ago I thought I was done. Veronica had waited for Neptune’s verdict while helpless and wounded on shore. Whatever had happened with us these past electric days was over, yet now as we sat there inches apart, it was being given a second chance.

I sat up and reached for her, and she was in my arms in less than a heartbeat. Our mouths met and we kissed as if it were the last time we would ever see one another. I stripped off her clothes amid a cacophony of verbal intimacies. There was anger and release in our actions; no softness or foreplay, just a ravishing of one another with the hope that the fear and remorse and regret of the night might be vanquished. She was as perfect as I had imagined. Her skin was like satin, her body warm and open and available. We consummated our love-making with an explosiveness I had never imagined. I actually felt fireworks. I caught my breath and thought that almost dying was not such a bad thing if it led to something this good.

We lay naked and spent in each other’s arms for a long time. Then Veronica spoke.

“You know, Sam, I’ve lived through nights like tonight too many times. It’s one of the reasons I decided long ago to leave Plymouth. Drunk driving, stupid violence, reckless drugs, petty squabbles about forgotten issues that put people in jail or into the ground. I drink, I smoke weed, and I’ve spent time with boys or foolish men who don’t know why they’re looking to fight, other than that it’s in their blood.”

“None of it is any good. It’s like betting your life, and if you win you get a free beer. Big fuckin’ deal. My brother didn’t do anything wrong, no different from the kind of mistake you made tonight, and he is in prison. You never know what consequences will come from what seems to be an innocent circumstance. I miss Eddie. Until just now, I was already mourning you.”

I said nothing. It was one of those times when a man should simply listen and not try to resolve anything.

“When you arrived in Plymouth, I sensed you were different and I wanted to know you. I thought you were the kind of guy I was leaving Plymouth to meet. So I put aside my fears and worked hard to insinuate myself into your life. Even short term. Even for just the summer. I see the way you go about things, the way you take over a room, and the way your friends listen to every word you say. It’s inspiring to me and I want you more and more. To be with you. To have that aura transferred to me so I can have some ownership of it once the summer’s gone and you move on to the next task, the next dream, the next windmill.”

Veronica’s speech had become halting, as if emotion had overtaken her thoughts. Her eyes filled with tears, and they slowly found their way down her cheeks. I lay there waiting to hear what came next.

“You said I was somebody. Not just anybody. And I believed you. For two reasons. One, it’s true. More important, you’re the only man I ever met who was smart enough to see it.”

She wiped her nose, gathered her remaining thoughts, then presented them clearly, without tears or hesitation, as if they were fact.

“I want to be here with you this summer. I want to work at your side and I want to make love to you and keep you safe and champion everything you do. I want to remember this summer as the time I came of age with a real man as my partner, and I want it all to be fun. Tonight, I was scared, and, no, I am not asking for assurances. But if there is danger, I don’t want foolishness to open the door for its arrival. You’re too smart and too terrific to give that up because you allow the stupid boy in you to detour the great man you’ll become.”

She didn’t look any less tired or wrung out, but she sure did look great.

“Your rehearsals start the day after tomorrow. It’s a jump off a hundred-foot cliff and we all can’t wait to brace ourselves as we hit the water. I just want to be there and want you to be pleased that I feel that way.”

She got up, dressed, and just as Secunda had, kissed me on my forehead, long and sweetly, like a mother putting her kid to bed. She turned and opened the door. The bracing wind whooshed into the room with the rain close behind in a subtle mist.

“You know where Doobie got that pot he gave James for you and your friends to smoke?” she asked.

I nodded. “Gary Golden.”

“How did you know?”

“It’s all very theatrical. By the way, there’s nothing you’ve done since I met you that hasn’t pleased me.”

“I’m easy on the eyes.”

Then she turned out the light and closed the door behind her. The sound of her footsteps diminished as she walked away, across the newly laid gravel. With each step I heard her moving closer to me rather than farther away.

T
he entire PBT company had arrived by Sunday noon. Tomorrow, May 31, would be Memorial Day. Rehearsals would begin on Tuesday at 10 a.m., and our first show would open on June 21, just three weeks away.

To commemorate our first day together, Secunda had invited everyone to a clambake on the beach that evening at seven-thirty. Since the first day of work wasn’t until Tuesday morning, no one was concerned about staying out or partying late. Secunda’s clambake was out of a beach blanket movie. A show tune from
Carousel
was apropos as well: “It Was a Real Nice Clambake.” Indeed it was, and more.

Secunda had arranged for fresh crustaceans of every size and shape. Skewers carrying shrimp, lobster, clams, scallops, and fresh corn hovered over a bonfire the size and scope of the
Hindenburg
in full demise. Huge vats of guacamole and various dips were available. Iced coolers housed bottles of beer from numerous breweries, and we had wine from high-end California vineyards. He provided Caribbean music by finding a group who played steel drums with an island beat while tushies swayed, and strangers danced close and got quickly acquainted.

Actors being actors, there was a great deal of sleuthing as each performer eyed who might threaten them for accolades or attention, or the heart of some boy or girl they had already set their sights upon. People were animated and open, wide eyed and eager to be part of this initiation.

I had never expected to have a girlfriend this summer, but as people arrived throughout the day, it seemed that Veronica and I were welcoming them together. She didn’t tell anyone we were a couple; she just presented herself as the company manager. Still, we held hands a lot and kissed frequently.

I imagine that in life dozens of people rarely gather to perform a task in which everyone truly wants to be there. We were all on the Cape because it had been a dream, perhaps one vested long ago, or in some cases a new one not yet fully formed. I wanted this moment to be recorded in my memory for a long time. It was a pivotal event in my life. I knew that some of this would crumble and the perfect picture I saw tonight would fade. Nevertheless, if we accomplished nothing else over the next four months, I was bursting with pride for having gotten this far.

I found Veronica in a crowd of joyous, animated strangers who would become our friends. I held her hand and enjoyed Secunda’s party. Tonight was a night to cherish. We would deal with tomorrow when it came.

V
eronica and I decided to sleep late on Memorial Day and then head into Provincetown for an Italian feast. She got dressed in a cute sundress with a flower pattern that was short but modest on top, and piled her hair into a Sox cap. Her face was sans makeup but for a hint of lip gloss that made her very kissable. I had washed my jeans and complemented them with a new lime-green cotton, collarless shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

Once we were ready, Veronica rushed me out into the compound. At least half the company had gathered around a shiny, new, powder-blue Chrysler van with a big red ribbon tied to the front grill. Some of the people from the company held a large sign that read
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOSS
. Secunda stepped forward with an amazingly large grin.

“My birthday is not for three weeks,” I said.

“We know that, but with everything that’s in store for you, none of us are sure whether you’ll make it another three weeks. So here you are, you bastard. Enjoy. This is from me to you. JB wouldn’t let me put in the budget.”

Then he gave me the keys. I hugged him, and for once in my life had nothing to say. Not because I didn’t want to—I didn’t know how. I walked around the truck and saw that
PRISCILLA BEACH THEATRE
had been painted on each side. Everyone applauded and cheered.

I grabbed Veronica’s hand and helped her climb into the passenger seat, then walked around to the other side and opened the door. I looked at Secunda and gave him a most sincere thank you. I got behind the wheel, started the engine, and drove out of the compound while honking the horn and waving like I was in a presidential parade.

As we turned onto Rocky Hill Road I looked at Veronica and said, “Wow.”

“You want to know the real surprise of the day?” she asked. “We‘re having dinner with my parents.”