Whispers and Lies (26 page)

I stared at my tingling fingers.

“That’s first-rate weed, isn’t it?” Lance asked proudly.

“Where’d you get it?” I asked in return.

“Trust me. The drug trade still thrives in Delray Beach.”

I looked around, trying to make sense of what was once familiar territory. “Where are we?” I asked as we turned onto Linton Boulevard.

“Lakeview Golf Course,” Lance announced, reading the large sign on our left. “You ever play golf, Terry?”

I shook my head, not sure whether I’d answered him out loud.

“I tried it once,” Lance said, “but it was a disaster. Balls
splaying all over the damn place. It’s not as easy as it looks on TV, I’ll tell you that.”

“I think it’s the sort of thing you need lessons for,” I heard myself say, remarkably self-assured for someone who had no idea what she was talking about.

“I have no patience for lessons.”

“Lance has no patience for anything.” Alison turned toward the window. Were there tears in her eyes?

“Are you okay?” I wondered if Lance had another of his magic cigarettes to give to his sister, get her to relax. Why was she so uptight?

Alison nodded without looking back. “You?”

“Fine.” I lay my head against her shoulder, snuggled into the crook of her arm, closed my eyes.

“Terry?” Lance said. “Terry, are you asleep? Is she asleep?” he asked Alison before I could formulate a response.

I felt Alison swivel toward me, her breath warm on my face as she spoke. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she said in my mother’s voice, and I jumped up, startled, sure she was speaking to me.

“So, you’re not asleep,” Lance said. “Trying to trick us, were you?”

“Where are we?” I asked again. How many times had I asked that already? “Where are we going?”

“Thought we’d go for a little New Year’s dip in the ocean,” Lance answered.

“Are you crazy?” Alison asked. “It’s the middle of the night. It’s pitch-black out there.”

A sudden disquiet gnawed at my newfound serenity, like a mouse on a piece of rope. I pushed myself up in my
seat and rubbed my forehead, as if trying to clear it. Maybe a dip in the ocean was exactly what I needed. Just what the doctor ordered, I thought, then laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Lance asked, laughing with me.

Alison was the only one who didn’t laugh. Worry clung to her eyes like wraparound shades. What’s
her
problem? I thought with growing irritation.

I looked out the car window at the largely deserted thoroughfare. Where was everybody? It was New Year’s Eve, for God’s sake. Where were all the drunken revelers, not to mention all the extra police cars supposedly trolling the streets? Here we were, three plastered partiers crowded into the front seat of a car heading for the Atlantic Ocean. Surely we deserved a citation for that, I thought, giggling at the convoluted absurdity of my reasoning.

“Maybe we should just go home,” Alison said. “I think Terry’s had enough excitement for one night.”

“Every party needs a pooper,” Lance began singing. “That’s why we invited you.”

“Party pooper,” I joined in, laughing so hard now I could barely catch my breath. Whatever twinge of trepidation I might have felt earlier had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, carried away by wave after wave of intense euphoria. I would ride those waves right into the middle of the sea, I thought as the ocean miraculously appeared before us, and Lance pulled to a stop at the side of the road, the white Lincoln stopping right behind.

In the next instant, four doors opened as one and both cars emptied. We raced each other toward the deserted beach, so dark it was almost impossible to see where the
sand ended and the water began. In the distance, several lonely firecrackers exploded, and I looked up to see a spray of brilliant pink and green burst briefly across the sky. Aside from that, and the low growl of a passing motorcycle, it was quiet. I suppressed a shudder as the cool night air blew through my hair, then wrapped itself tightly around my neck, like a tourniquet.

“This is so great,” Denise exclaimed, throwing her arm over my shoulder and dragging me across the sand. “Isn’t this so great, Terry?”

“Let’s get naked.” Lance was already kicking off his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head.

“Let’s not,” Alison quickly countered. “What are you trying to do, Lance?” she asked above the roar of the ocean. “Draw as much attention to us as possible?”

“Not a good idea,” Lance agreed quickly. “Okay, everybody. Clothes back on.” He tried dragging his shirt back over his head, but his head got caught in one of the sleeves, and he gave up, throwing the shirt to the ground in frustration, then laughing as he stomped it into the sand with his bare feet. “Never did like that stupid shirt,” he said, and we all laughed, as if he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Except Alison. She wasn’t laughing.

I pulled off my clumsy nurse’s shoes and surveyed the ocean stretched out before me—cold, dark, hypnotic. It beckoned me forward, pulling me like a giant magnet, and I rushed toward its angry waves as if possessed, the sand cold against my stockinged feet, the icy water rushing over my toes.

“Way to go, Terry!” Lance yelled from the darkness.

“Wait for us,” Denise called out as a wave, like an oversize boxer’s glove, pummeled my back.

I looked toward the shore, saw several vague shapes lumbering toward me, hands waving in the air, like delicate tree branches swaying in the wind. I waved back, lost my balance, and stumbled over a rock. Struggling to maintain my footing, I saw the darkness swirling around me and wondered briefly what in God’s name I was doing. Hadn’t I pulled this stunt once before? Hadn’t I almost drowned?

“Terry, be careful,” Alison cried out, fighting her way through the surf. “You’re out too deep. Come back.”

“Happy New Year,” I shouted, splashing at the water with my hands.

“Somebody’s stoned,” Lance said, drawing closer, his voice a singsong.

I pushed myself to my feet, only to be slapped down on all fours by another wave. The taste of salt filled my mouth and I laughed, remembering the time I’d mistakenly sprinkled salt, instead of sugar, on my breakfast cereal, and my mother had insisted I eat it anyway. A lesson, she’d said, so I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. But I was always making the same mistakes again, I realized, laughing even louder.

Once again, I tried to stand up, but my feet could no longer find the ocean floor, and I was drifting farther and farther away from the others. “Help!” I cried as the water crept above my head, and unseen hands reached for me in the dark.

Strong hands pulled at my clothing. “Stop struggling,”
Lance ordered, his voice as cold as the ocean. “You only make things worse by struggling.”

I lunged into Lance’s arms, the wet hairs of his bare chest rough against my cheek, his heartbeat resonating against my ears. I gasped for breath, my hands flailing wildly in the air as another wave tore us apart, then crashed over my head like a collapsing tent. I screamed, my mouth filling with water, as my fingers reached across the darkness for something solid to grab on to. I felt a large fish slap against my calves and I kicked it away.

“What are you doing?” Lance yelled above the sound of the angry surf. “Stay still.”

“Help me!” The cold water swirled around my legs, tugging at my feet like heavy weights, pulling me under. I felt Lance close beside me and struggled through the darkness toward him.

It was then that I felt a weight on the top of my head, pushing me back under, holding me down. “No,” I cried, although no sound emerged. I opened my eyes underwater, saw Lance beside me, his hands somewhere above my head.

Was he trying to save me or kill me?

“Stop fighting me,” Lance ordered gruffly.

I reached frantically for the water’s surface, but my body was growing weak, and my legs were constrained by the tightness of my uniform. My lungs felt as if they were about to burst, the sensation eerily similar to the one I’d enjoyed earlier with my first marijuana cigarette. So this is what it feels like to drown, I thought, remembering the fate of those unfortunate kittens at my mother’s cruel hands. Had they been scared? I wondered. Had they fought back, clawed
at her murderous fingers? Or had they quietly accepted their fate, as Lance was urging me to do now. “Damn it! Stop struggling,” he bellowed as my head finally shattered the surface of the water, like a fist through glass.

And suddenly a bright light was shining toward me, and for one insane second, I wondered if I was already dead, if this was the white light patients who’d suffered near-death experiences sometimes talked about. And then I heard the distant voice—“Police,” the voice announced. “What’s going on out there?”

“Goddamn it,” Lance said, pulling me up and securing me underneath his arm, pushing me roughly toward the shore.

“What’s going on here?” the police officer asked again as I collapsed on the sand by his feet, gulping wildly at the air, unable to speak. Alison was immediately on her hands and knees, hugging me to her side. K.C. and Denise hovered silently nearby.

“Sorry, Officer,” Lance said, shaking the water from his hair, like a dog. “Our friend forgot she doesn’t know how to swim.”

“You all right?” the officer asked me. I could tell by the timbre of his voice that he was young and more amused than concerned.

“She’s fine,” Lance said with another shake of his head. “I’m the one you should be worrying about. She almost killed me out there. Last time I play hero, I’ll tell you that.”

“Pretty stupid stunt, lady,” a second officer admonished, looking directly at me, and I understood by his tone that it was the end of a long shift, and the last thing he
wanted was unnecessary overtime. I noted that he was about the same height and weight as his partner, with the same thick neck and square chest. “You better get this lady home,” he advised. “I think she’s done enough celebrating for one night.”

I opened my mouth and tried to speak, but no sound emerged. What could I tell them after all? That I was drunk on champagne and high on marijuana? That I suspected I’d been slipped some LSD? Did I really think that? Truthfully, at that moment, I didn’t know what to think. I wasn’t certain of anything, not what had happened earlier, not what was happening now.

“Thank you, Officers,” Lance was calling after the already retreating policemen. “Happy New Year.” When they were out of sight, he turned back to me as Alison’s arm tightened around my waist. “You heard what the man said. Time to get you home.”

T
he rest of the night is a blur.

I remember images—Lance’s knuckles, white against the black of the steering wheel; Alison’s wet hair clinging to the gaunt crevices of her face as tears continued spilling from her eyes; my uniform, wet and cold, riding high on my thighs, my sheer stockings ripped and speckled with sand.

I remember sounds—the wetness of our clothes against the leather of the seats; a horn blasting as a car sped past us on the inside lane; the nervous tapping of Lance’s foot on the brake as we waited for a light to change from red to green.

I remember the silence.

And then we were home, and everyone was talking at once.

“What a night!”

“How is she?”

“What happens now?”

I remember being half-carried, half-dragged toward my front door.

“What are you going to do to me?” I recall whispering.

“What did she say?”

“What do you think we’re going to do to you?”

“What’s she babbling about?”

Alison’s voice, as clear as the proverbial bell: “You guys should go now. We can handle it from here.”

I remember stumbling up the steps, Alison’s hand loosely on my elbow, Lance’s arm tight now around my waist. My bedroom swirled around me, as if I were on an ocean liner during stormy seas. I fought to stay upright as Alison slipped from my side, ended up on her knees beside my bed.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lance demanded, gripping me tighter, as if afraid I might bolt, his fingernails carving small niches into my flesh.

“You know what I’m doing,” Alison answered defensively, pushing herself back to her feet.

Checking for bogeymen, I told him silently, then laughed out loud.

“Jeez, two lunatics,” Lance said, his fingers at the front of my uniform, struggling with the top button, as Alison left the room.

“Don’t,” I protested weakly.

“You want to go to bed soaking wet?”

“I can get undressed by myself.”

Lance took a step back. “Suit yourself. I’m happy to watch.”

“I think you should leave.”

“Now, that’s not very hospitable,” Lance said, managing to sound hurt. “Especially after I saved your life.”

Had he? I wondered again. Or had he tried to end it?

Alison reentered the room, several large white towels in her hands. She threw one at Lance. Were they going to tie me up, gag me, then smother me with my own pillow?

I felt the towels in my hair, at my breasts, between my legs. My wet uniform was scraped from my body, a dry nightgown lowered over my head, like a shroud.

“Hold still,” Lance said.

“I’ll do it,” Alison instructed.

Strong hands guided me toward the bed, pushed me down on top of it, covered me with a blanket.

“Think she has any clue what’s going on?” Lance asked as I buried my head in the pillow and curled into a fetal ball.

“No. She’s really out of it,” Alison said.

“So, what do we do now?”

I felt them watching me from the foot of the bed, as if considering my fate, weighing the alternatives. I feigned sleep, hinted at a snore.

“I should probably stay with her overnight,” Alison said.

“What for? She’s not going anywhere.”

“I know. But I’d still like to keep an eye on her.”

“Fine. I’ll keep you company.”

“No. You go. Get some sleep.”

“You know I don’t sleep well when you’re not beside me.”

I felt him move to her side.

“Lance, don’t.”

“Come on, Sis. Don’t be like that.”

I tilted my chin, opened my eyes just enough to peek through the layers of lashes, see two forms merging at the foot of my bed.