Black Water (12 page)

She could hear the
siren,
she could see the am
bulance speeding along
the sandy rutted nameless road, the red light on its roof spinning like a top.

She
was gagging, the hose already in her mouth. A snaky black hose so thick!
so
long!
you
wouldn't believe how
long! Lisa had giggled.

Stretching
her arms, out,
out...
That look of radiant madness in her
eyes and
she was licking her lips.

Wild!
Buffy St. John had said, years later. That's really sick.

Buffy
had pinched her, Buffy's teasing-pinch that, damn it,
hurt.
Saying, pouting, as Kelly Kelleher was hastily
stuffing her things into her suitcase, Yes but why leave
now,
can't you leave a little later?—and Kelly Kelleher
murmured, Oh Buffy—I'm sorry, that
sunburnt
flush on
her throat, face, knowing how Buffy would speak of her afterward, not of The
Senator but of her, Kelly Kelleher I thought was my friend, for Christ's sake—!
But Kelly was too embarrassed to say what both she and Buffy knew.

If I don't do as he asks there won't be
any later.

As
he kissed her those several times, kissing, sucking, groping as if, though they
were standing fully clothed on a beach that, though not very populated, was
nonetheless not deserted, he was in an agony to find a way into her, she felt
the jolt of desire: not her desire, but the man's. As, since girlhood, kissing
and being kissed, Kelly Kelleher had always felt, not her own, but the
other's
, the male's, desire.
Quick and
galvanizing as an electric shock.

Feeling
too, once she caught her breath, that familiar wave of anxiety, guilt—
I've made you want me, now I can't refuse you.

Close
up, Kelly saw that The Senator was not a handsome nor even perhaps a healthy
man exactly: his skin was very flushed, unevenly
mottied
,
tiny broken capillaries in the nose and cheeks, and his eyes, that distinctive
blue but the lids were somewhat puffy, the large staring eyeballs threaded with
blood. He was sweating, almost panting as if he'd been running and was out of
condition.

"Kelly.
Beautiful Kelly."

And
when Kelly could think of no reply, adding: "What am I going to do with
you, Kelly?—so early in the day, am I going to lose you?"

One
of his aides had gotten him a room in a motel in Boothbay Harbor, not an easy
accomplishment on the Fourth of July, but he had the room, he'd checked in, it
was waiting for him and where was Kelly Kelleher staying the night?

At
Buffy's of course. Kelly was a house guest of Buffy's planning to stay the full
weekend: until Sunday.

The
Senator's manner was bemused, not at all coercive.
Just
bemused.
Asking her another time, as if he'd forgotten he had already
asked, if she had a boyfriend?
a
fiance
?
one
of the men at the party?
that
interesting young black from M.I.T. perhaps?

The
Senator's navy blue knit sports shirt fitted his upper arms tightly and was
damp with perspiration. His seersucker trousers were rumpled at the rear.

An odor about him of beer, after shave
cologne, frank male sweat.
Kelly's nostrils
pinched half-pleasurably. She smiled.

Explaining
now sobbing and angry to both her parents that she was not a bad girl, truly
she was not. The man was married but not living with his wife and it was the
wife who wanted the separation, the wife who had
asked me to leave,
kicked me out,
fortunately both their children were adults now
and capable of assessing the situation for themselves, a man like The Senator
with a love of life a love of people both men and women a zest for meeting new
people for exchanging views an appetite for... perhaps it was appetite itself.

Biting,
sucking the very marrow. Thrusting
yourself
into it to
the hilt.
Christ how otherwise do you know you're alive?

Mr. Kelleher understood, it seemed.
Yes Daddy you'd be a goddamned hypocrite not to.

Mrs.
Kelleher was upset, distraught. Kelly squirmed with guilt seeing that look in
her mother's face but it made her fucking angry too.
Mommy
just stop
thinking about me, that way I mean. My girlfriends'
mothers—they handle it perfectly well.

The
difference is, Kelly, I love you.

Oh
hell. Give me a break.

I
love you, I don't want you ever
ever
to be hurt Kelly
that's the one thing I want to shield you from, that was my thought... you might
not believe this but that was my actual thought... when they gave me to you, in
the hospital when you were born, and I knew you were a girl and I was never so
happy in all my life before or since, I vowed I would never let my daughter be
hurt as I have been hurt I will give my life for her I swear to You God.

Mommy
was crying, and Kelly was crying, turning her head from side to side spitting
and gagging, tasting the oil, the gasoline, the sewage, not entirely certain
any longer where she was, why her spine so twisted, both her legs twisted, she
was upside down was she?—in the dark not knowing where is up, the pressure of
the black water on all sides now, churning, rising, eager to fill her mouth,
and her lungs.

Saying,
relenting,
All right Mommy I guess so. Yes.

Take me home from here Mommy. I'm here.

It
was not clear whether Mr. and Mrs. Kelleher had been summoned to the scene of
the accident and were standing now on the embankment as the car was being
lifted out of the creek; or whether they were already at the hospital, waiting
outside the emergency room. Kelly was puzzled too seeing their faces not as she
remembered them, but so young—so attractive.
Her own age?

Mommy
such a beauty, her face unlined, her eyes so clear—and that stiff-glazed
bouffant hair, so silly so regal!

Daddy
so handsome, and so lanky!—and his hair, my God his hair, thick and curly and
coppery-brown like Kelly's own, as she had not seen it in years.

Yes
she'd loved them all her life even more now in her own precarious adulthood
than previously but how do you say such a fact?—how choose the words?—and when
of all occasions should they be uttered?

Mommy, Daddy hey I love you, you know
that I hope, please don't let me die I love you, okay?

She
was running in her little white anklet socks on Grandma's prickly carpet having
kicked off her shiny new patent-leather shoes, squealing giggling as the quick
hard hands swooped from behind to lift
her,
it's
always a surprise how hard, how strong another's hands are, a man's hands, and
he cried
Who's this!
who's
this!
mmmm
who's this little angel-bee
who's this!
lifting
the kicking
squealing child high above his head so his arms trembled and afterward she
overheard Mommy and Grandma scolding him about his blood pressure, what on
earth are you doing you might have dropped her.

He'd
winked at her. Grandpa loved her so.

And
now she tasted cold, and the unspeakable horror of her situation washed over
her: if the black water filled her lungs, and she died, and the news came to
her parents and grandparents, they would die, too.

Oh
God no, oh no. That can't be.

They
loved Kelly so, they would die, too.

Except realizing then suddenly, a bit
of relief: Grandpa Ross
was
dead, himself—so he'd be spared,
knowing.

And
maybe they would not need to tell Grandma?—Kelly saw no need, frankly she saw
no need.

Mommy you see my point don't you
?—
okay?

Daddy?

Okay?

Everywhere on grayling island there
grew, run
ning
low against the earth, wild rose, flowering wild rose, beautiful rosy-lavender
petals and spiny treacherous stems, sharp thorns Kelly drew her fingertips
absentmindedly against watching the men play tennis...
Rosa
rugosa
it was, or was it
Rosa
virginiana
.

Wild rose, everywhere.
Blooming.
Festooning the dun-colored beach.

And the fruit of the bushes, like tiny
plums, beautiful too, a blood-swollen look to them, an erotic look, these too
Kelly touched, running her fingertips over them, digging in her nails.

Rosehips,
The Senator said. Taking pleasure in speaking of them, his grandmother steeping
them to make rosehip tea, did Kelly like rosehip tea?
herbal
teas were very popular today, eh?
and
his grandmother
had made jam, too, from the rosehips, he thought.
Unless he
was confusing it with something else.

Rosehips,
or maybe currants.
Huckleberries.

In
the kitchen Buffy grimaced emptying ice cubes into a container saying,
"You and The Senator are getting along very well," with a sidelong
smile, and Kelly Kelleher smiled too, feeling her face heat, murmuring,
"Well," and there was a pause, and another barrage of ice cubes
crashing into the plastic container, then Buffy said something so very
Buffylike
, you never knew from which direction Buffy was
coming, was it a sly sort of joke, a nudging complicity, was it a warning, was
it that prickly sort of insult you didn't quite absorb until later, or, simply,
bluntly, a statement of fact, "Don't forget, he voted to give aid to the
Contras."

K
elly?
kelly
? come to me.

She could hear him, suddenly.
Shouting, somewhere close overhead, tugging at the door on the
driver's side of the car, making the car rock with his strength.

She tried to speak but water filled her
mouth, she shook her head, spat the water out,
I'm here; I'm here,
help me,
pulling herself up by sheer tremulous strength of her left arm, the small
compact muscle of her left arm, the shoulder, she was trembling with the
effort, how many minutes?
or
had it been hours? time
did not pass in this place submerged in black water
except
as it was recorded in the water's gradual rising, the cruel methodical rising,
a digital watch's clicking, and would The Senator see her here?—in such
blackness?—in this trap, this pit, this coffin, whatever it was, the name for
it lost, squeezing her so small, so tight, so cramped you had to be crippled,
your spine bent back upon itself to fit into it?