Frog (24 page)

The door suddenly opens and several men and women outside start shouting orders. One tells them to hurry out of the car and leave all their luggage on the platform, a second says to go to this or that truck. “What's going to happen to us?” Denise says in the car.

“I don't know,” Howard says. “There's air though. Feel it coming in? Olivia, Eva—do you feel it? Already it smells better. Soon toilets, water for drinking and baths.”

“Have we really got everything planned fully?” Denise whispers to him. “If they tell you to go one place, me another and the girls a third, or just split us up any other way but where we lose you or both of us lose the kids, what should we do?”

“What can we?”

“We could say no, stay with our children—that we have to, in other words. They're small, sick, need us. We don't want to lose them, we can say, lose them in both ways, and it's always taken the two of us to handle them.”

“And be beaten down and the girls dragged away? I don't see it. I think we have to do what they want us to.”

“We could ask graciously, civilly. Quick, we have to come to some final agreement. We can plead with them if that doesn't work—get on our knees even; anything.”

“We can do that. I certainly will if it comes to that. But we'll see when our turn comes.”

“It's coming; it's about to be here. I'm going to beg them first to keep us all together, and if that doesn't work, then for you to go with the girls. You'll last longer than I if it's as bad where they take us as it was in the car.”

“One of us then will stay with the girls. If they don't go for it, then each of us with a child. OK, that's what well say and then insist on until they start getting a little tough.”

There's room to move around now. Half the people have left the car. He gets down on his knees and kisses the girls, stands them up between Denise and him and he hugs her and their legs touch the children. “Should I start to worry now, Mother?” Olivia says and Denise says “No, absolutely not, sweetheart—Daddy and I will take care of you both.”

“May it all be OK,” he whispers in Denise's ear. “May it.”

“Come on out of there,” a man shouts. “All of you, out, out—yours isn't the only car on the train.”

“Good-bye all you lovely people,” Bischoff says. “We did our best. Now God be with you and everything else that's good and I hope to see each of you in a warm clean room with tables of food.”

Howard hands Eva to Denise, picks up Olivia and their rucksacks. “This is how we'll split the kids if it has to come to it, OK? By weight,” and she nods and they walk out.

“All right, you,” an officer says to Howard, “bags on the platform and go to that truck, and you, lady, go to that truck with the children.” “No,” she says, “let us stay together. Please, the older girl—” “I said do what I say,” and he grabs Olivia to take her from Howard. Howard pulls her back. “Do that—stop me, and I'll shoot you right here in the head. Just one shot. That's all it'll take.” Howard lets him have Olivia. The officer puts her down beside Denise. “What will happen to them?” Howard says.

“Next, come on—out with you and down the ramp, bags over there. Richard, get them out faster. You go that way,” to a man coming toward him and points past Howard, “and you two, the same truck,” to two young women. “Go, you both, what are you doing?—with your children and to your trucks,” he says to Denise and Howard. “No more stalling.” She stares at Howard as she drags Olivia along. A soldier tugs at his sleeve and he goes to the other truck. She's helped up into hers with the girls. Some more men and young women climb into his truck. He can't see her or the girls in her truck anymore. It's almost filled and then it's filled and it drives off. “Denise,” he screams. Many men are screaming women's names and the names and pet names of children, and the people in that truck, older people, mothers, children, are screaming to the people in his truck, and a few people on the platform are screaming to one or the other truck. Denise's truck disappears behind some buildings. He can hear it and then he can't. Then his truck's filled and a soldier raps the back of it with a stick and it pulls out. They'll never get our belongings to us, he thinks. What will the girls change in to? It makes no difference to him what he has. They'll give him a uniform or he'll make do. But Denise, the children. Denise, the children. “Oh no,” and he starts sobbing. Someone pats his back. “Fortunately, I had no one,” the man says.

_______

Olivia doesn't want to play on the beach anymore, wants to go into the water but not to swim. “Just a little more till I finish this paragraph,” “No,” “All right,” and puts down his book, walks her into a part of the lake where the sun is, lifts her under the arms and swings her above the water. “More, more, this is fun,” and he does it some more, then says he can't, too tiring, let's rest, stands her up. “Too cold,” she says. Holds her arms out. “Again.” “Give me a few seconds.” Looks out to the lake. Sailboat way off, or something with a sail. People jumping off the ledge into the water, but so far away that even from their shrieking he can't tell if they're kids or adults and which are male and which are female. Lily pads, closer, with flowers all over. Picks her up, swings her in a circle, her feet skimming the water, then her legs cutting through it. “Whee, this is great, better than swimming. Know what it reminds me of, Daddy?” and he indicates he doesn't and she says “Twirling around and getting dizzy dancing,” and he does this till his arms ache, says “No more for now, I'm all hot from it, let me take a swim,” stands in place holding her till he doesn't feel he'll fall if he walks, walks to shore and sets her down. “How can we do this—for me to swim? I can't just leave you.” “Yes you can. I'll stay and play here.” “No, someone has to watch you,” while he's drying her. “We'll ask someone here to—would you mind that?” “Do I have to stay with that person?” “No. Just that if that person says come away from the edge of the water, for some reason—a leech, maybe, or motorboat being put in—well, you do that, but that person won't have time to say much. I'll only go out for thirty strokes, kick my feet a few times while I'm on my back out there and maybe dive down once, and then swim in, a little slower than when I swam out as I'll probably do the breaststroke coming back, if that's it—you know, where the arms sort of push the water underwater. Like this—how could I be unsure what it's called?” and brings his arms to his chest, spreads them wide, brings them to his chest. “That's a stroke, like the crawl's a stroke,” and demonstrates that one, even the breathing. “I think you said the first one's a breaststroke because it's your breast you're hitting.” “Right. So, which person looks good to look after you?” “Her. She asked me what I was building with my mud before, and she was nice.” Sitting by the beach, around twenty-five, noticed her when they walked down here and several times when he looked up from his book to see her reading hers, slim and nicely built from what he can see in the seated position she's been in since they got here, doesn't look like a local, magazine, travel and week-in-review sections of last Sunday's
Times
held down by a hairbrush and sandals. “OK, let's ask her.”

They go over. “Excuse me, but I'd like to—my name's Howard Tetch and this—” “Oh sure—Olivia. We chatted before. She's so pretty and well behaved, and sharp?—oh boy.” “She is, which'll make what I want to say easier. I'd like to take a quick dip—” “Go ahead, 111 watch her.” “But a very quick one. Thirty strokes out, thirty back or so, maybe a little whale movement on my back out there, but that's all. And she knows—” “Really, don't worry. Even if she can't swim or hold her breath underwater, she can go in up to her waist. I'll be right here, and I'm a WSI.” I'm sorry, don't know…” “Water safety instructor. I've two lifesaving badges, giving me the authority to save two adults of up to three hundred pounds total at one time.” “Well, couldn't be better. OK, kid. Up to your knees, we'll say, but no higher and not for long. I don't want you catching a chill—getting one.” “Anyhow, I don't want to go in again. I want to play here.” “Fine—By the way, your name's what?—just in case I get a cramp out there and have to shout for help. Only kidding—but what?” “Lita Reinekin.” “Thanks, then, Mrs., Ms., Reinekin.” “Lita,” holding out her hand. “Lita,” shaking it. “OK, sweetie, Daddy's going in. Be good. Do what—” “I will,” and she goes to her pail and things on the beach.

He throws the towel to their place on the grass, says to the woman “Think she needs her shirt?—nah, she's OK,” walks in to the water, turns around. Olivia's sitting in the muddy sand, her legs wrong, putting her two rubber adult figures into the pail. Woman's a few feet from her, book closed on a finger holding the page, he presumes, looking at Olivia. He splashes water behind his knees and on the back of his neck. Why's he doing that? He already adjusted to it when he was swinging her around. “Put your feet out, Olivia,” and without looking at him, she does. He walks out some more, dives in, swims. Counts ten strokes, turns around. She's still playing on the beach. Should have told her to stay in the sun part of the beach, but he won't be out long. Swims fifteen strokes, turns around. Can't see her so well now. “Olivia … hi,” he yells. “Hi, Olivia.” She doesn't respond. He waves—maybe she's looking at him on the sly, which she does. The woman waves at him. Very nice, he thinks, she's very nice. And good-looking, and that long and what's probably a strong body. But WSI? Two people and three hundred pounds? How would she know what any two people weighed when they were drowning? People she didn't know, in other words. If they weighed more than that and one or both of them drowned, would she be penalized in some way for having tried to save them? Maybe he's missing the point. Ten more strokes, then thinks: give yourself ten more. Likes being this far out when nobody else is here. Ten more, looks around. People on the ledge seem to have left, sailboat's not around anymore, no motorboats today either. Hates those things. If one came close and didn't see him, what then? Yell, scream, wave frantically, then dive deep if it kept coming. When would he start diving? Depend how fast the boat was going, but something would tell him
now
. What an awful thought though, motorboat running smack into someone and maybe slicing off an arm or leg, and he shakes his head to get rid of it. Looks to shore. Can scarcely make out anything. The woman, he thinks, where she was sitting, and possibly that speck's Olivia, but he's kidding himself. Some other movement on the grassy slope above them, really just blurs, and what looks like a light-colored blanket by a tree, but can't tell if anyone's on it. So quiet out here. Nothing as peaceful anywhere. Maybe the top of a secluded mountain where one sees nothing but trees and other mountains, and on the same kind of day: mild temperature, light breeze, mostly clear sky. Should get back. But she'll be OK. Gets on his back and looks at a bird, probably a hawk, circling way up in the sky. But time to get back. If she were calling him, would he even hear? And he's much farther out than he usually goes. There's always the chance of a sudden leg or stomach cramp, though he knows how to uncramp them. A motorboat could suddenly approach, even that sailboat, and his sense of timing in diving might not be as good as he thinks.

Starts back, using the crawl for about fifteen strokes, then the breaststroke for about ten. Can see the beach fairly well now. Woman sitting where she was. Light blanket, if there was one, seems to be gone. Doesn't see Olivia or anybody else there. Some might have left, others gone into the woods, Olivia with them for some reason, picking berries, looking for exotic mushrooms or birds; to piss, even. Or she could be behind a tree or bush, playing hide-and-seek. Stares; doesn't see her. Ten more crawl strokes, stops. Woman reading. Their towels and shirts. Olivia's toys on the beach. If they're playing hide-and-seek, why's the woman reading? Pretending not to see her perhaps. “Hello … hello,” he yells, treading water. She looks up. “Where's Olivia?” Stares at him; he can't make out her expression. He swims hard the rest of the way, stands when he's able to and yells while walking fast as he can through the water “Where'd Olivia go?” “What?” she says, cupping her ear. “Olivia—my daughter—where is she?” “Who?” “The girl I left with you. Is she in the woods? Or you let her go back to the car alone?” “I'm sorry, sir,” standing when he gets right up to her, “but I don't know what you're talking about. You didn't leave anybody or anything with me. You were here by yourself before—” “By myself?” “Over there, and you went in the water—” “I went in only after you agreed to look after my girl. You said you were a WSI.” “A WSI?” “Look, what is this, a joke on me? You two—together—and she's hiding somewhere?” “No, nothing.” “Then you want me to panic, I'm panicking. You're nuts, fine, be nuts. But—oh, fuck you—Olivia,” he yells, listens. “Olivia, it's Daddy. Come out from wherever you are, and now.” Listens, looks around, runs to the woods and yells “Olivia, do you hear me?” “If there was a girl—” the woman says. “There fucking was. And be quiet. I want to hear if she yells back.” Listens. “Olivia,” he yells. “If you're hiding, come out. Daddy's serious. Game's over if you're playing one. If the woman I left you with told you to play a game, she doesn't want you to play it anymore either. Now come out this second.” Listens.

“Stay here,” he says. “If you see her, tell her to wait till I come out.” Runs to their spot, slips his sneakers on, runs into the woods shouting “Olivia, Olivia.” Comes on a path and runs along it shouting “Olivia, it's me, Daddy, where are you?” Path ends and he runs back along it and out into the grass and says “You see her?” and she says “No, who?” and he says “Jesus, I'd like to bop you. What the hell's wrong with you—don't you understand anything?” She says “You've threatened me enough—I have to go,” and he says “Please, I'm sorry, stay while I look,” and runs into the woods at a clearing closer to the beach, trips, gets up, knee's bleeding, says “Screw it, fuck it, oh shit, shit, shit,” runs to the end of the clearing, shouts “Olivia, Olivia, it's Daddy, yell if you hear me; please, darling, yell,” listens, squeezes his hands hard as he can, digs all his nails into his face till he's out of breath, runs into the woods a few feet, too thick, she'd never get through it and wouldn't even try, runs through the clearing to the grass, woman's putting her things in a canvas bag, he says “Don't go, whatever you do—I need someone to stay while I look up the hill for her, all right?” and she says “Really, this is crazy,” and he says “Please, no more accusations from me, just give me a couple more minutes,” and she nods and mouths OK, he runs up the path to the parking area, stops several times to yell for Olivia and stare into the woods on both sides, gets to his car, nothing seems changed: windows down, things where he thinks they were, shouts “Olivia, you around here? Daddy's very worried about you, so yell if you hear me,” listens, runs to the other car there which must be hers if she didn't walk here from wherever she's staying or park and take the woods' path from the ledge parking area, windows up, driver's door locked, pillow in back, New England road map and several spruce cones and a sand dollar on the dashboard, microbiology textbook and magic marker on the passenger seat, memorizes the Massachusetts license plate and car color and make, is about to run back when he thinks “Why not?” and puts his ear to the car trunk, knocks on it and says “Olivia, Olivia?” runs back, woman's in shirt and shorts and is fitting her feet into sandals, place where she was sitting's cleared, he yells from about twenty feet away “One more minute; just want to check the path to the ledge; I'll run, so I'll be right back,” she slumps her shoulders and an expression that says “Enough's enough already, I have to go,” runs on the ledge path about a quarter-mile shouting for Olivia and looking into the woods, nobody's at the ledge, towel draped over a tree branch but it's dry and could have been there for days, runs to the parking area, no cars or people, shouts her name and runs back along the path.