“Well, might as well sit down and eat somethin. Both of you look like you haven’t eaten in a week.” She turned to Edward. “I worry ‘bout Mary. She’s not like her sisters. They know it’s important to eat—”
“Mommm.” Mary’s head tilted to the right and then left.
“I think she’s OK.” Edward said before noticing that no one was listening to him.
“Well, look atcha. Skinny as an eel. Always lookin like you’re sick with dat bulee-mia. Needin food. See, Edward, she juss take after her father. He was always skinny and mean. I think if you doonh eat enough, you get mean – dat’s a fact. Saw it on Oprah.”
Mary’s mother turned and disappeared into a kitchen but kept talking as she worked.
“Find you seat at dat table. Doonh be shy. Mary doonh like stayin home like her sisters. Spends too much time in ‘er boot. Likes doin all them boy tings. Fishin and boatin.”
“I’m sorry.” Mary frowned.
“I really could eat something.” He nodded.
Hesitantly, Mary led him to the dining room table. Edward sat down facing a bay window with a view of the entangled, leafy backyard and the blazing blue horizon beyond. Mary sat across from him.
“You eat dis chicken, you won’t be mean.” Her mother called out from the kitchen.
“She’s usually not this way,” Mary said, leaning over the table. “We had an argument earlier. Joanna, my eldest sister, forgot to buy soap. But I was blamed.” Mary pointed at herself with a thumb. “She never believes me.”
“I can hear you.” Her mother said over the sound of pots being moved around. “I do believe you when you here to tell me.”
“Maybe there was just a miscommunication.” Edward smiled, enjoying being in a home with people in it, mother and daughter, savoring their interactions, wishing it would go on for hours. It felt so very odd, but he missed the time he spent in his old house’s dining room – his mother in the kitchen complaining about nothing, his father sitting beside him, tinkering.
“You can see why I like being outside the house. When I was seven Joanna pushed me into our neighbor’s septic pond. I ran home to tell my mother. But mom wasn’t angry at my sister, she was angry at me for tracking that stuff into the house. In ninth grade, Keena, my second sister, spread a rumor around school that I was madly in love with Leroy Paulson – the slow boy in our school whose grandmother walked him home every day because he didn’t know left from right. And another time, Joanna hid a pack of cigarettes under the bathroom sink. My father found them and Joanna was so afraid that she blamed it on me.”
“That’s funny,” Edward said. “I used to wish I had some brothers to play with.”
“Oh Mary! Your boyfriend doonh wanna hear ‘bout dirty laundry.”
Her mother walked into the dining room, carrying a pan of wings and drumsticks coated with barbecue sauce. When she set the pan down on the table, Edward leaned over and sniffed in the allspice. She went back out and returned with two dishes and forks for them.
“You think having brothers and sisters is always good, sometimes it’s a pain.” Mary sighed.”
“Mary, you should listen to yourself goin on like dat. Mary like talkin like dat. Doonh listen to ‘er. Juss eat up now. Go on.”
Edward picked up one of the wings and bit into it.
“Oh, Ms. Read, this is fantastic.” He gnawed off the meat from one section. “Really delicious. Ms. Read, do you know, Mary saved me from drowning?”
“Oooh, she a good swimmer.” Mary’s mother picked up one of the drumsticks and started on it. “You know why? When she was seven year old, she told her daddy she was afraid of the water. Uh huh! And you know what he did? He push her off that pier out there. Mmm mhhh. Said, ‘no fisherman’s daughter gonna be afraid of no water.’ Course after dat, she wasn’t afraid of anything. She knew her daddy wouldn’t allow it. Mmm huh. She was his little helper on his boat. I dink Mary spend too much time on dat boot. I doonh dink fishin good for a girl. Sometime, I dink she like dat sea more den her own home.” Mary’s mother finished the meat and started sucked the sauce off her fingers.
“Well, the sea can be a lot more peaceful. It doesn’t blame a person for things they didn’t do,” Mary said. Her mother had already turned to return to the kitchen.
“Always out dere by herself. She ride that boat of hers too much, never makin friends—”
“Mommm.”
“Well, I’m happy she does. Otherwise I would not be here today.” Edward made a theatrical shrug. “Mary, I wanted to ask you – how do you place your traps? Because sometimes I see you lingering for a while before you drop them—”
“I wasn’t lingering.” Mary’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at him.
“Oh, sorry. Just thought I saw you driving in circles, sort of lingering, looking for something—”
“Mary!” Ms. Read came into the room again, resting her hands on her hips. “Were you lingerin in front of dis boy’s house?” Her voice rose.
“I wasn’t lingering! I was setting traps – that’s all.”
“Mary, were you lingerin?”
“No, I wasn’t lingering. I was looking for a good place for the traps.”
Mary’s mother went back into the kitchen. Edward shrugged before picking up another piece of chicken, trying to name the other spices in the sauce.
“You know a boot’s comin in?” Ms. Read called out. “You better get on over to Aunt Nina’s before too long. She needs the fruits.”
“A boat?”
“A cruise ship is coming in,” Mary said. “Stops here every three or four days. Half of the island’s income is made when a cruise ship is here. So, everyone’s getting ready, opening shops, cooking, filling carts up with souvenirs and any junk they can sell. My aunt does some cooking for a restaurant, so she’ll be busy.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“The streets’ll be full of drunk tourists.”
“You ever sell your lobsters on the cruise ship dock?”
“I tried before, but the cruisers don’t like to carry around a live lobster.”
“But they have lots of cash, right? I wonder what they’d buy…” Edward gazed off out the window at the swaying tree canvas.
“I’ll never understand why tourists buy all that junk.” She shook her head. “T-shirts are made in El Salvador, the kitchen magnets that say ‘Tortola Island BVI’ are made in China, the beer’s from Mexico and the seashell necklaces are from Malaysia.”
Edward laughed.
“I try to avoid it when the cruise ship’s there.” She made a narrow shake of her head. “Acting like pirates. I’ve seen people get off those boats like they’re getting out of prison. They act like they’ve been locked up for months. It’s only a day’s sail from Miami.”
Ms. Read appeared next to the table, and set down a plate with a stack of sliced white bread. “I’ll get you soda,” she said and walked out.
“Thank you, Ms Read.” Edward picked up another drumstick and smiled guiltily at Mary. “But what if you could sell something very unique, but had an island theme and was something people could easily take onto the ship.”
“Like what?”
“Like paintings.” Edward nodded. “Hey, you know I finally swam to the island.”
“It’s not very far—”
“Did you know there’s a shack there?”
“A shack? On that little island?” Mary looked at Edward with her head half turned.
“On the north side. I think someone’s been using it recently—”
“Did you see someone?”
“No, but I saw cigar butts that smelled fresh. Heard a boat coming, so I ran away.” Edward grinned like someone who had just pulled off a prank.
“I’ve never seen anyone on that island, but sometime locals have a secret fishing spot. Shaded sinks along a shore, abandoned piers, marshy sloughs are good for catching big fish in the shallows.”