Edward started out in a casual walk. He kept his head aimed straight ahead. When he reached the front tire, he ducked down again and pretended to tie a shoe. In a single motion, he reached into his pocket and gripped the box cutter. He rubbed his thumb over the slide knob. He gave one last look up and down the street before pulling the tool out. The blade extended easily, and Edward had to retract it a small amount so it would bend. He placed the metal against the SUV’s large tire and then pressed into it. This had no effect. The black rubber was too thick. Then he sliced, pressing into the tire with his arm and body. The blade split the material apart, slicing through it, producing a quarter-inch incision. Air hissed out.
The noise was tremendously loud from where he was, but he didn’t move, telling himself the sound wouldn’t travel. When the deflation had finished, he monkey-walked five feet to the back tire. He repeated his surgeon’s operation, giving Isaac what the kids from his old neighborhood used to call a ‘Welcome to the Neighborhood’. The hissing continued for half a minute, the car listing more and more. Edward hoped the tilt would be difficult to judge this from where the office was. He waited and listened.
Then the box cutter was back in his pocket. Then he was up and walking as before, this time with one hand in a pocket like a model doing a catwalk. He forced himself to slow down and keep his head straight. But when he was two steps from being out of view, the curiosity was too much and he glanced over his shoulder. Isaac wasn’t at the table. He had gotten up and gone over to a back part of the office, a restroom. He was returning to the table. Edward couldn’t tell where he was looking – at the table, outside, at Edward.
Edward walked up the street without hearing anything behind him. A car passed him before he reached the end of the white fence. It continued, passing the Suzuki and its two flat tires. The car turned into a driveway three houses up. Edward turned on the next street, giddy with vigor. He began whistling again, feeling in total control, like the whole world would reverse its spin if he commanded it.
~~~
He watched Mary approach the pier. Her hair was down, funneled through a hairclip, the silken cord swinging across the middle of her back. She walked to where he sat with his feet dangling over the shallow water below and stopped. Half an hour earlier Edward had watched the sun sink behind the mountain ridge and a cloud bank roll in behind him. Above hung a few dazzling pink puffs against a navy blue gradient. Before coming to the pier, he bought a snack and ate it on the same bench Mary and he had sat. From there he had a good view of the lively bay and shoreline activity.
“What story did you read to the kids?” he asked as Mary took a seat on the edge next to him. Water lapped against her boat nearby.
“A book called Those Shoes.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s about consumerism and relationships. I think it’s similar to the King Midas tale.”
They watched as a large sailboat moved into the bay and dropped its sails. The sloop, powered by a small outboard motor, was steered toward an area with a lot of yachts and high-end sailboats. As dusk fell the pier and hillside lights bouncing across the water brightened.
Mary put her hands on the edge, stretched her back and pushed down, bringing her legs up, lifting her body off the wood. She held this acrobatic position for a few moments, and then lowered herself back down. Edward picked at the wood of the pier with a fingernail.
“Mary,” he said. “You know I think you’re beautiful, right?”
“Oh, my God, please. Do you say this to all the girls?”
“No. I do not. Look, I want you. I want you and I think you feel the same – why did you invite me to Vieques?”
“You said you liked nature, so I took you to see some—”
“Is that all? You don’t seem like the type to play tour guide.”
“Well.” Mary looked down, shaking her head.
They became silent as a fisherman walked behind them on the pier. He went to the end and picked up his gear, a fishing pole and tackle box, before returning to leave. When the fisherman was gone, Mary spoke again.
“Don’t you want to go back to New York?”
“I don’t know. OK, sure I miss some things, like the random interactions. Like this one guy – a clerk – a middle-eastern guy who owned the convenience store next to my apartment. We used to joke about things, you know. Complain about weather, sports, women. We didn’t know anything about each other, we probably had nothing in common, but we would talk about, you know, stuff we wouldn’t tell our own parents. Chat like we were brothers or something. He seemed like a real standup guy… never thought to ask his name. Kind of sad, now that I think about it.” Edward scratched his head. “But that’s the good part. Complete strangers are like your family. But there are bad sides, too. Like, you feel like you have to always be doing something. Every day, working, growing, advancing, building, finishing a project to impress and prove to the world that you are successful. It’s, like, a feeling you always have to be climbing because if you’re not climbing, you’re falling. And you see those two extremes there. There’s the homeless and there’s the super rich, and you’re always heading in either one of those directions, you know. Or maybe you don’t because you live here – but that’s a good thing.”
Edward turned to face her, crossing his legs and holding his knees.
“Whenever I talked to someone, I felt like I had to talk about my progress. ‘Where are you? How far have you come?’ A lot of people hate that, and just drop out, you know. They say, ‘Screw it. I’m not joining that rat race.’ But then even the counterculture people keeping track of how far they are away from the mainstream, and you have to move – move – keep on moving, even in this group. ‘Did you support the local theater group? Did you bicycle to work? Did you recycle all your trash last week, go to the protest, watch that indie film that sucked, donate to the AID’s drive, volunteer for the Greeeen candidate?’” Edward threw his hands up in a shrug, and realized Mary was laughing.
“Yeah, really. It makes me sick. It’s like that. You feel like you’re always being watched. So, it’s kind of nice here. I feel unwatched. No one’s there to observe me. I mean, here, all I think about is my artwork, the flavor of the food I cook, and going for a morning swim.”
“So, everything’s perfect?” Mary asked, her eyes glancing up to him.
“No, not everything. I did think everything was perfect before. I thought I had everything I needed. But then you stopped by and I knew I didn’t have everything I needed.”
Mary looked off, minutely shaking her head. She gave him a side glance.
“Mary, you’re the most beautiful, mysterious girl I’ve ever met—”
“I’m not interested in playin games—”
“I’m not playing,” he whined. “And I think you feel it too—”
“Mmh!” She rolled her eyes.
“You stop by every day—”
“To catch lobster—”
“Is that the only reason?”
“These are the things all boys say to play games.”
“I’m not playing.”
“How many girlfriends have you had before?”
“Well. Real girlfriends? Zero.”
“Zero? You’re a liar.”
“No. I’ve been with women, but I never felt anything for them.”
“So, you did speak to them with sweet lies?”
“Yes. You’re right. But it was different—”
“Mmh-mh. And how exactly is it different?”
With her lips slightly parted, she turned an ear toward him, driving him to answer. She was pushing him on. He was sure she was enjoying – savoring – their conversation.