The Do-Over (25 page)

The man she wouldn’t call Bob set about to build a bon fire worthy of a great day. Even Renny had conceded that a man could be useful, and the man had skill. He’d constructed the thing like he’d gotten the engineering contract and wanted to deliver.

She watched him step back and admire the driftwood, twig, crumpled newspaper structure, hesitant, it seemed, to torch it. But he lit a match and held it along the edge of newsprint, and yesterday’s story charred as the flame took it. The fire flickered in and out of the driftwood, leaving smudged trails where the wood resisted, leaping red into the soft spots.

When Renny sat down beside her, she felt the shift of sand pull her closer, followed her impulse and reached out to take Renny’s hand. It was so delicate, it surprised her. She’d expected strength and found vulnerability. She studied their hands, joined. Hers held power she’d not seen before. Maybe it was an age thing, certainly being a mom had changed her, changed her in ways that probably couldn’t be erased. She may be half-naked holding a half-naked woman’s hand, she may be in Canada flirting with both sexes and pissing off her husband, but she wanted to believe that more than anything, she’d have the strength to put Logan first when her month ended.

Across the fire, she watched Amy struggle to open a bag of marshmallows. Marshmallows toasted golden brown on a summer’s bonfire were a simple pleasure, and shouldn’t all pleasure be simple? Shouldn’t pleasure, in a just and well-run universe, be effortless? Why wasn’t abundance, when it was right there in a bathtub or on a stretch of sand, be easily claimed?

Gretchen reached out to help Amy, who laughed and handed her the bag. Gretchen pulled it open with ease, and Mara felt Renny’s hand give a pulse of movement. It was Gretchen that Renny wouldn’t easily claim. She squeezed Renny’s hand and let it go. She’d known all along that Renny wouldn’t be her simple pleasure. Renny wouldn’t be anyone’s simple anything. She turned her head, and Renny’s eyes appeared larger, more open in the dark. “Be brave, Renny.”

Renny gave a shadow of a smile and shook her head no.

The sun streamed in the loft, and Mara stretched. She’d dropped into bed all sandy and salty and felt like a happy crab crawling out of her cotton hiding hole.

She padded over to the window and let the late morning shine on her slightly sunburned breasts. Ahead, she had another day in paradise and an evening’s entertainment when she pitched in with the shipping crew. She couldn’t wait to see little Sadie in her miniature overalls.

The knock at the door barely made her flinch. She might become a nudist yet. She headed toward the door because it wasn’t like Dan hadn’t seen her naked before, and wouldn’t he be all shocked and sputtering? She stood to the right of the door and barely opened it, shielding herself from the stairwell by standing in the V.

But it was John whose face appeared, near hers, and stared into her eyes. She whispered, willing him with the intensity of her voice. “Don’t look down.”

To his credit he kept his eyes on hers, but she watched his smile bloom as if he was debating keeping them there. “Did I wake you?”

“Don’t look down.”

“Did you come all the way back from Wreck Beach naked?”

“Don’t…”

His eyes dipped, a fake-out that caught her breath, and he finished the command. “Look down. I got that part.”

“Could you…”

“Join you behind the door? Love to.” He moved his right shoulder an inch closer like he would just slide around to her side of the door and all would be lost. She put her hand on him, in defense. Although when he stopped moving and her hand stand on his arm, she wasn’t sure why.

He pulled the door a couple of inches closed. “Are you coming out?”

Of the loft? She was naked. Why would she… then her brow wrinkled. “Is that a reference to my sexuality?”

He laughed, so close she felt it on her cheek. “I really was referring to you being behind a door, not in a closet. But if you want a closet, I’m game.”

“I’m not lesbian.”

“I’m aware of that.”

Aware. She was aware of that too. She felt soft things with Renny. Sister things, maybe. She admired things about her, wanted to see happiness replace wariness in her eyes.

John’s eyes, definitely not wary, were still on her, green and waiting. Another bonfire, she felt it and realized she was panting. She held her breath and could only see starter twigs touched by heat that would soon catch the driftwood ablaze.

He closed his eyes, but it only made his smile brighter. “Why don’t you get ready, and I’ll wait?”

She squinted at him, debated how tightly his eyes really were closed. It just didn’t seem like a good gamble to take off running when he only had to flutter one open to get a whole eye full. As if he’d read her mind, he put a hand over his eyes, and she held her breath and darted from behind the door to grab a stack of clothing. She held it in front of her and ran across the loft realizing nothing covered the rear view, but she’d hit the bathroom by then and slammed the door behind her. She leaned against it, trying to catch her breath and seeing the reflection of her sunburned chest heaving.

John’s voice followed her in. “Remember, I made the soap with my own hands.”

She spotted Abundance in the shower, nothing but Abundance, and felt a shiver from her center out.

“It’s very good for sunburn.”

“I’ve never been to an IMAX before.” She slipped on the three D glasses the girl at the booth handed her and tipped her head to check out her vision from a variety of angles. There were blurs of red and green and a rainbow-like blue but none of them in three D. Maybe nothing could really change reality.

John tucked his glasses in his pocket and with a hand at the small of her back, followed her into the lobby.

She spotted the sign to the women’s restroom, but its female icon in an A-line skirt didn’t pop out at her either. Even in normal vision, though, she realized that someone needed to update bathroom signage so it stopped saying
pee like it’s nineteen-fifty-nine
. At least with her glasses on it had a nice reddish tint, and it did remind her of the cardinal rule of womanhood after thirty.
Use every bathroom opportunity presented to you
. “I’ll be right back.” She ducked into the bathroom and felt she might even make it through the whole movie before she’d have to go again. It wasn’t even a regular two hour film. Wasn’t something special, by definition, brief?

Her reflection in the mirrors above the sinks stopped her. Her face, repeated six times, wore the glasses like an ugly bug wore its eyeballs. Flies must see like that. Flies must look like that. She was Halloween gone horribly wrong. Her hair, still recovering from salt and sun, poofed out at stringy angles. And her eyes, colored by plastic, were huge. She’d become, in a matter of twenty four hours, a myopic fly suffering a bad hair day.

She whipped the glasses off, but the sunburned nose and red eyes did not reassure her. It served her right. She’d rationalized the outing with John as innocent. Since she’d been naked with women and the man she wouldn’t call Bob the day before, she’d convinced herself this was nothing. The truth was, she wanted to believe that John wasn’t just reflex flirting but he found her attractive.

IMAX. She knew exactly what it stood for. “I Make Attraction Xtra Impossible.” With her frizzy hair and her sizzled skin she was IMAX to the max. “I Must Activate Xenophobia.” That one wasn’t as good. She could do better. “Itchy Make-up Accessorizes X-rays.” Hell, she still had to pee and, “Interrupt My Absurdity, X-rated.”

“What’s going on?” A voice questioned her from behind a stall door.

She sighed. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be talking to myself.”

She didn’t duck when the sharks swam overhead, but she was glad she’d gone to the bathroom.

From the opening second when the camera dove under the water, she’d been entranced. Even her usual awareness of John’s presence faded in the first minutes while she experienced, alone, a world she’d never known. It was odd that in the darkness of the sea when she could feel small, lost in the foreignness of it, she felt part of it, and that wasn’t just the three D glasses talking.

Every odd creature, the one with eyes on one side or eyes on wiggly tentacles, the eyeless, and even the blobby white one that looked like sour cream of the sea were all perfectly made for how they lived, what they did, how they survived. They made her expand her definition of beauty. Even if, by human definitions, the lumpy gray fellow was ugly and alien, in its environment it radiated a grumpy charm.

All of them, for where they’d been planted, found ways to fly, dance, glow translucent, and live. She wanted that insight for her own life, wanted to give her own imperfect body, mind, and spirit, kindness. She longed to embrace her perfection in adapting to how she lived, what she did, how she survived. It moved her throughout the too brief show and the calm followed her as they moved outside the theater.

She stood at the wind whipped rail, stories above the water of the Burrard Inlet and studied a massive cruise ship at eye level. She sensed John beside her but held the ship in her vision. It moved so gently for something the size of a town.

Ten boats, good-sized speed boats from the look of them and her limited understanding of watercraft, tucked right into the side of the ship. James Bond would ride one straight out, hit the water, and make his escape.

“I’ll buy two tickets, and we’ll go… where?” John leaned his forearms on the rail.

She imagined herself on one of the balconies that held two chairs and a small table. John. A fine coffee. A croissant. “France.”

“Alright. We’ll take a room above deck.” He pointed to the larger windows some passengers enjoyed while their neighbors below peeked out of tiny round ones.

“Naturally.”

“It’ll take a long time to get to Paris by boat.”

“We won’t mind.” She felt tears well up and sniffed in surprise, but the sting of the wind covered that for her.

“Naturally.” John sighed.

The sigh was perfect, and she relaxed again. It was nothing but a bit of fantasy they were indulging in. He was harmless because of his potential for harm. Dangerous had always been her last choice, and so he was no danger for her. A woman let a man like him spin a fantasy. It was the excitement he carried with him, but a woman didn’t actually believe he’d stick around to see it to fruition. And she had always been a stick around kind of person.

She watched a couple come out of a room, take their places on the twin chairs of their miniature deck. Retirees. Long married, she’d guess, long enough to not feel the need to talk to each other. They were a silver haired bride and groom perched not on a wedding cake, but on a golden anniversary cruise.

She tipped her head, met John’s eyes, and considered what the anniversary couple would make of the two of them. From the boat to the rail, they might look like two near strangers who found the other’s lack of availability both safe and exciting. “We’re also quite the pair.”

He smiled but something else passed across his face. Sadness? She really was fantasizing, and she laughed at her own ridiculousness. He’d shown fear most likely. “Don’t worry.”

He pointed to a group of passengers re-boarding after a shopping trip in Gastown, but before he could say anything, she spotted his watch. “Oh, I’ve got to go,” she smiled, “get ready for my evening.”

He didn’t smile back but looked oddly serious, so she flexed her arms to lighten the mood again. “The shipping crew sticks together.”

He did laugh then, and she saw that his body had relaxed again. “I’d offer to help, but they have a
no men allowed
policy that is strictly enforced.” He took her arm and led her towards the wide flight of stairs angling down to street level.

“Well, women really need the weight bearing activity because…”

He nodded. “Osteoporosis is a bitch.”

She laughed. “I love your mother.”

The fear look she’d seen before crossed his face, and she laughed again. Damn if it wasn’t entertaining to spend an afternoon with Peter Pan.

They’d wanted her for some muscle. She’d never been brought in as
the muscle
before. She stood at the back door of Abundance and watched the crew check off the shipping inventory. The tables were covered with fizzy balls, bubble bath, and shower gels ready to be packed in the stack of boxes balanced against the far wall. “So, we have to—” She stepped forward to help.

“Shhhh!” Velma shot her the pissy librarian face, and instinctively Mara crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Velma appealed to the group. “I told you the girl would be useless. And her hair is unkempt.”

She touched her still sea crispy hair, but felt, God help her, flattered to be called a useless girl.

Stella leaned into a half-packed soap box, popped out for more bars to load. “It does look like shit.”

Mara ran a hand down her hair and wished she’d worn a hat, but Stella caught the self-conscious movement. “Just sayin’.”

Little Sadie appeared at her elbow, and she had to stop herself from jumping in surprise. Sadie put a delicate hand on her arm. “We’ll fix you right up when we break for a little cocktail.”

“You drink when you…”

“Yes!” The shipping crew answered as one.

“Hell yes!” Stella mumbled, her head down in the box, elbow pumping as she straightened the load.

Sadie took her hand and ran it down the side of her short grey bob. Her hair felt like satin, like… She stepped closer and pet it voluntarily after Sadie’s hand dropped. “It’s so soft, like butter.”

Sadie pointed at her with a delicate, if somewhat crooked finger, “close. Just as soon as we—”

“Gin!” Stella whipped out a giant tape dispenser and sealed up the first box.

It was going to be a long night.

Four boxes packed, three gin breaks, and Mara felt relief that there was food at last, and not just any food, potluck dishes from the original Betty Crocker Cookbook. One table, emptied of soaps, held tuna casseroles, ham and pea salads, potato dishes with chips on top, cold cuts that should be called cold cuts and not the less charming name of
deli meats
, and a rainbow of Jello, only one with pimentos. Nearly every offering had the added bonus of being accessorized with grated cheese. It was like stumbling into a food reunion and remembering how great fat was.