“That’s probably the farthest I’ve ever swam.”
Ms. Read delivered two bottles of Sprite with straws planted in them before returning to her kitchen.
“You spend more time swimming when you spear fish,” Mary said.
“But that’s mostly just snorkeling – just floating and checking out the sea life. All those things under the water. Don’t you think it’s amazing? You’re lucky to be born here – I don’t think you know that.”
“I guess.” Mary wiped sauce off her plate with her bread before eating it.
“I’ve never seen so many different colors in nature,” Edward said, leaning over the table. “It’s a whole secret world under the water. A big, busy city.”
“Passions there, wars, pursuits, tribes, sight in those ocean-depths,” Mary said.
“What’s that?”
“That’s Walt Whitman.”
“You read a lot of poetry?” Edward followed her example, dipping a slice of bread into the barbecue sauce before eating it.
“I work part time at the library.”
“Oh, so you don’t just sell lobsters?”
“No, I do not. Do you only watch the house?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Edward dipped his head over the pile of chicken leg bones on his plate, occasionally looking up at Mary.
She had her eyes on her soda bottle, biting her lip. They sat like that for a few minutes listening to Mary’s mother work, running water, cleaning plates. Mary lifted her bottle to take a drink and then quickly set it down.
“Look, do you really like sea life?” She asked, clearly feeling guilty about her sharp words.
“Yeah.” Edward looked up.
“Then I should show you a special place. We can go there Friday night, if you’re available.”
“Available? Well, let me check my calendar.” Edward made a couple sweeping glances from left to right and right to left. “Looks like I’m free. What is it?”
Mary started to smile, but caught herself, producing a controlled grin. She looked back down at her bottle.
“A place my father used to take me and my sisters when we were young. We have to go in the evening. Just after sunset.” She brushed back loose strands of her hair while Edward watched her.
~~17~~
Tonight, tonight, tonight, he told himself as they boarded the Road Harbour ferry. Do it! He needed to tell her how he felt. He had held it back too long, swallowing it down every time it rose up. His suppressed feelings had collected down in his throat in a glob that now blocked his air and blood passages. He knew he needed to tell her tonight, at some point, how he felt.
It was late afternoon and a cruise ship had appeared from the south. Fifteen stories of steel and lights from waterline to smokestack, it glided over the long promontory like a figure in a shadow play drawn across a stage. When it was clear of the land, the ship turned to face them, moving toward the basin of the bay.
Edward and Mary leaned over the ferry rail, watching as several bulbous yellow tenders moved out toward the cruise ship, lined up like ducklings paddling toward their mother. Soon, the clinking of a chain sounded as clear as a church bell. The ship’s anchor plunged and where it hit a splash of white erupted.
Ten minutes later, the ferry’s horn blew like a trumpet against their ears, and they both jumped, turning to each other and laughing. Edward was thankful for the moment. Mary hadn’t said much on the trip over, and Edward hadn’t tried to engage her, worrying over his own desires.
The ferry pushed off and headed out, passing the massive ship while two tenders were connected by gangways to aft and forward hatchways. Edward watched as people filled the aft tender. It detached and was soon on its way. Without a head or tail, the craft didn’t bother turning around, motoring off toward the long dock at Wickham’s Cay where taxi drivers, store owners, hawkers and tour guides waited.
Mary’s hair was in disarray. She turned to face the breeze and straighten it. She had on linen shorts and a white diaphanous T-shirt that the wind pressed against the bikini she wore under it.
“Years ago we couldn’t handle the large number of tourists. The cruise companies stopped coming here when some people complained about crowded conditions. They had to build more excursions, more shops, more bars, more restaurants. They had to find locations and things for people to do so everyone wasn’t bunched up in one place.”
As their ferry moved out of the harbor and turned south, Mary pointed toward the southern mountain range and spoke about the buccaneers who had once lived off the land there while Edward told himself to wait, wait, wait. Wait for the right time to admit his feelings. Some part of him wondered why he was being so careful. She would say yes or she would say no. That was how it had always worked. A ‘yes’ meant he was getting laid, a ‘no’ meant find another girl. That’s how it had always been for him, relationships were plastic products, made cheaply and intended for short use. A ‘no’ had never bothered him, but it felt different now. He needed her to say yes.
The ferry passed Coral Bay on Saint John and a hazy Saint Thomas to its north, and then turned due west toward a marigold sun two hands above the horizon. Edward talked about some colorful fish he’d seen the previous day and an interesting couple he had chatted with in the village. The sun grew bloated and lost its strength and the breeze cooled, so they moved inside to a room with rows of fiberglass chairs. Sitting next to her, Edward felt a sense of pride at being with the most beautiful woman around.
Sometime later an announcement was made, and the boat slowed as they approached Vieques Island. Near the dock, the ferry’s engines stopped and then revved three times to push the boat up against truck tires fenders.
Edward followed Mary outside, along with other passengers, and waited along the railing, watching workmen call out commands in Spanish, tying up the boat and lowering a gangway. When everything was secure, the passengers made their way off the boat, through a port house, and onto the street. There, Mary hired a taxi, an ancient four-door Mazda repainted in gaudy red and green. The driver took them out of the village, through patches of jungle and over rolling brush land.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a south beach just as the sun disappeared over the horizon, leaving behind heavy strokes of red, pink, gold and blue that reminded him of a Sunday a long time before. A Sunday inside his freshman year. A Sunday when he had visited the Whitney and seen Edward Hopper’s Railroad Sunset for the first time. The room was empty, quiet and he fell into that simple scene, an empty railroad track, darkened station tower before placid hills and sunset. The emptiness of the scene and glint of the steel tracks offered an infinite number of possibilities – where did those tracks lead?
“Come on. Let’s go.” Mary paid the driver and was already out of the cab. “We have to hurry.”
Edward shook his head and laughed before getting out.
They ran over to an aluminum shed filled with plastic kayaks. Mary found a woman sitting on the side, listening to a radio. Mary rented two, and she and Edward pulled out the kayaks before dropping their shoes into a basket besides the owner’s chair. The woman gave them flashlights on lanyards. They slipped these on around their necks.
Using the flashlights, they made their way down a dirt path, dragging their kayaks by attached leashes between clusters of tall reeds and to the calm, protected waters. Edward aimed his flashlight at Mary while she dragged her boat in. She straddled her kayak, her smooth thighs pressing against the sides before she lifted her legs inside. She pushed off with her paddle and glided slowly into the darkness, under the twinkling of the stars.
She told Edward to follow her. He did, but without her grace. He slipped a hand into the water as he mounted his kayak. Then when he tried to move he found the rear stuck in the mud. He scooted his body forward in the seat, thrusting his weight into the footrest. Inch by inch he nudged the kayak off the dirt. When he was finally free, Mary was more than fifty feet ahead of him.