“What if they could have saved her?”
Edward shifted over to lean on his other arm. Mary’s question and tone had become uncomfortably sharp. But if Gene detected the harshness, it didn’t slow him.
“Oh dear. Ohhh dear me.” Gene put his arms down and clicked his tongue in mock pity. “Don’t you see? No one can be saved. We all end up in the same place. I don’t want to waste time on trivial worries. Nay, I say. Nay. We should not spend life on the small worries, but sailing this grand world, looking for the next festival.”
Edward started to laugh, but when Mary glanced over at him, he clamped his jaw down. He watched her and could tell she was thinking about something. She stared down into the fire with her brow pinched down, her lips frowning, her head slowly shaking. He had seen the face before, on their trip to Saint Martin and Orient Beach, where the couples walked hand-in-hand completely nude. It was the same serious face she made before their big blow-up in that hotel room. As she had then, he could see she was taking it all too seriously.
“I don’t know,” Mary said and looked up at Gene standing over the fire, nodding, his arms outstretched as if welcoming them in, the fire’s light animating his facial features.
Everyone turned to her and watched how she would continue the fun.
“I don’t know. We all can’t get on a boat and just sail around the world. Most people have to work to put food on the table.”
When it was apparent that she had finished, everyone looked up at Gene.
“Ouch!” Gene put his free hand on his chest. “My rebellion is being suppressed, put down.”
“More like knocked out,” Charlie blurted and laughed.
“Crushed like unarmed protesters.” Gene put the back of his hand against his forehead. “Eddy, save me! Surely, you will join my revolution. You – you live on a beautiful island paradise with your beautiful girl. Surely, you agree in la-la la-la live for today?” He sang the words.
Everyone turned to look at Edward just as a piece of burning wood in the fire popped, sending up a puff of cinders and ash. Edward looked at Mary and could see her judgment emerging, staring at him through her serious eyes. He knew he’d pay later and this goaded his answer.
“Well.” Looking out over the surface of the bay, he shrugged, lifting his palms into the air. “We do have to eat—”
“Yes! Eat, drink, and be merry. I’m glad you will join me.”
Everyone, except Mary, laughed.
“I mean, we have to buy food,” Edward said, looking down at his bare feet, feeling the heat of the fire on his soles.
“Do we? Do we have to buy food? Doesn’t that take care of itself? Let me ask you – do you or do you not have fruit growing wild around here? When you pull the fruit off one of those plants, do you put a quarter in a slot to pay for it?”
“Of course not—”
“Ah hah! Worrying about things is a choice, my friends.”
One of Gene’s girlfriends grunted in disagreement. It was obvious Anne and Rachel were not happy with Gene. Gene had probably oversold the voyage with his grandiose talk. Edward guessed Gene had either mistreated or ignored the women on the long trip, or maybe forced them to do manual chores, or maybe they just were unable to deal with the hardships of living at sea. In any case, he could sense the resentment – they were enjoying the argument.
“And we choose not to worry. Right, Eddy?” Gene took a swig directly from his bottle. “Eddy, you agree with me, right? Eddy? Eddy?”
Edward saw Mary lean forward about to speak.
“You got to worry a little about tomorrow, right?” Edward asked before Mary could get her words out. Edward felt he needed to protect her, even if it was from herself. “We’re all not as fortunate as you. I mean isn’t that your father’s boat you’re sailing around in?” His words came out flat, against the grain of the mood, and he hated them.
The girls and Charlie went completely still as they watched Gene. A strain appeared in his jaw line as he swung the bottle like a bell before lifting it high into the air and finishing the wine inside. A glint flashed over his eyes. A minute before, this glint had told Edward to be festive, jolly and happy, but now it told him to go drown himself. Fuck off.
Gene pulled the wine from his mouth, a cord of spit stretching momentarily from the rim to his lip.
“Oh.” Gene wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That is right. It’s daddy’s boat.”
“I – I didn’t mean it that way—”
“Nooo. That’s what you meant.”
The girls and Charlie looked from Gene to Edward, the only sound being from the waves and the fire crackling.
“No sucking on the tit of fortune allowed. Is that right, Edward?”
“Look, I’m just kidding.”
“No, no, no. You are absolutely, positively correctomundo.”
Gene dropped into the sand, and leaned over to say something to Charlie that no one else could hear. They spoke to each intimately like that for a few minutes, whispering without looking up. While this was going on, Mary, Anne, and Rachel quietly chatted about problems men cause. Edward tried to enter the men’s conversation three times, asking Gene questions, but all he got in response were chin nods and side glances.
Twenty minutes later, it was clear Gene’s play had ended. The show was over. It was time to go home. Mary brought out blankets as the two women were dozing off. Edward picked up the tray as he and Mary turned for the house. Edward gave a wave as he walked away and spoke the last words he’d ever say to Gene and Charlie.
“Door’s unlocked if you need the bathroom.”
~~24~~
There was sunlight. He blocked that with a hand. There was also a headache. He couldn’t do anything about that except moan while pushing a palm into his left eye socket as hard as he could. He got up, somehow making it into the kitchen to fill a pot and start two eggs boiling on the stove. While the water bubbled, he drank an entire glass of orange juice. Mary was gone. Most likely, she had left for the library around nine as she sometimes did.
Edward poured out the boiling water, being careful that the eggs didn’t roll out, and then filled the pot with cold water. He waited two minutes before removing one of the eggs and peeling it over the sink. With the shell removed, he salted the egg and quickly ate it, repeating the process for the second egg. The mass dropping into his stomach helped, but he still had the throbbing in his forehead as he staggered to the bathroom.
He hadn’t memorize where everything was in the room, but he knew in the back of his mind that something was wrong, something had been moved. After he brushed his teeth, rinsed and splashed water over his face, he looked out. The easel was bare. The painting of Mary was gone. Where was his painting of Mary? Had Mary moved it, modestly putting it away to hide it from the visitors? He looked under the bed, behind his desk and TV, and inside his armoire. He yanked open drawers, even thought he knew the canvas could not fit inside. He looked around the kitchen, even though it was ridiculous. He flipped through his other canvases, letting them tumble from the wall.
Then he found the note on the TV, on an empty page of his sketchbook.
Eddy-
You are a most amazing painter. You are fortunate to have such skills and such a beautiful girlfriend to paint. I will treasure your work forever.
Your biggest fan,
Gene
“Son-of-a-bitch! You son-of-a-bitch!”
He ripped out the page, crumpling it up with both hands and dropped it on the floor. Edward ran to the door, and threw it open. The daylight blinded him. When he could see three seconds later, he saw that the pier was vacant. The sailboat gone. A blackened pile of mush filling a dimple on the beach was the sole sign that they had had visitors.