“I like TV though,” she said. She had not quite gotten the sense of all he had said to her. “It was really funny when that old grandfather started slicing up that turkey and then it fell right in his lap. Boy, did I begin to laugh — didn’t I, June?”
June smiled, barely.
“Hey, does anybody want to go in the water?” Cynthia asked.
“Water?” said Mr. Siegel. “What water?”
Cynthia’s laughter was uproarious.
“Not right now, honey,” June said.
She knew that Mr. Siegel and June were anxious to resume their conversation, and she knew what they had been talking about. “When are you going to write another program, Mr. Siegel?”
“Now I know you’re on my side, I’m going to get right home and start one this afternoon.”
“For me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Wow!”
“This time two grandfathers and two turkeys!”
“That’s great!” she said, and she went skipping down to the water. She heard June calling after her, “Be careful—” with the result that she skipped right on down to the edge, as though she hadn’t heard at all. A wave was rising a little way out, and the sight of it unnerved her. But she took a step directly forward, into the sea — and waited. She did not have to wait very long.
“Cynthia—please—”
The child turned. She had been able to get June up off the blanket; she had even been able to move her some five or six feet toward the water.
“Okay,” Cynthia said, and she hopped on one leg up to where her pails lay, and flopped down in the sand beside them.
“Please, be careful, Cyn, please,” June called, and just at that moment she heard Markie’s head hitting the floor. A little sound came out of her mouth, but then she saw that it hadn’t been Markie’s head at all, only a wave collapsing onto the flat blue surf. It made her think, however. When Markie came out of the hospital he would have to wear a bandage. She decided she would be very generous to him then. She would tie his shoelaces for him and put his toys away without anybody asking.
Though the hit on the head would probably knock some sense into that kid.
She spoke these words out loud; when she tried them a second time, they made her giggle. The hit on the head will probably knock some sense into that kid. Boy, that little kid didn’t know anything … What she knew for sure and didn’t need anyone to tell her, was that she was much smarter than her brother. She was an exceptional child — that was what the teachers at her new school said. She had the mentality of a ten-year-old, which made her five years older than Markie. She had reason to be proud of herself. When she was an adult she would be more intelligent than others. They would all have to come to her to ask what the best thing was for them to do.
Cynthia suddenly felt herself so full of pep, so convinced that life was made for pleasure, her pleasure, that she jumped up and went racing toward her stepmother. Because she had seen Markie’s blood she knew she could finally get June to agree to take her in the water. She wanted to walk right into the ocean holding June’s hand. She left Markie’s pail and shovel where it was and went flying to the blanket — but there was a man walking down the beach in her direction. She was momentarily stilled by the familiarity of his gait. Everything about him was so familiar, though at first she could not think what his name was. It did not take her very long, however, to remember, or to stop being able to forget. But where was Mommy? Mommy had come with him to see Markie in the hospital! Mommy would find out that she had pushed him! Well, she hadn’t — he fell! That’s what he got for committing a sin.
“June,” she called, “can we go—”
But Gabe had already seen her. He had come to catch her for her mother. All she could do now was scream and run into her room, but they were not even in the house. They were on the wide beach, under the bright sun, and he was so big that wherever she fled he would find her and bring her back.
In the second before he removed his sunglasses, she wondered if she might not be mistaken. Then his hand reached out — and yes, oh yes, oh what would happen—
“Hi, Cynthia. Hello.”
June looked to see who it was. Cynthia thought of making believe that he was a strange man, for she was not supposed to speak to strange men. But when her mother appeared, it would be evident to everyone that she had been lying — and then they would know for sure that she had pushed her brother.
“Hello,” Cynthia said.
“You remember me?”
“Uh-huh. Gabe.”
“Well, how are you? You look brown as a berry — you look healthy and grown-up and—”
“I’m fine.”
“Where’s your little brother?”
Cynthia shrugged.
June was standing. “I’m Mrs. Reganhart.”
Gabe extended his hand. “I’m Gabe Wallach. How do you do? I’m a friend of Martha Reganhart’s. From Chicago.”
Now Cynthia looked up to where the cars were parked. She recognized Gabe’s car as soon as she saw it — and inside she could make out the figure of her mother; she was crouching in the back, spying on her. This was not the first time that the child had had occasion to suspect her mother of spying. When she had first arrived at her new school in New York, she had been certain that her teacher, Mrs. Koplin, was actually her mother in disguise. Then one rainy afternoon Mrs. Koplin’s husband had come to pick her up; he had been carrying an umbrella, and Mrs. Koplin had called him Herb, and she had said that before they went home they must stop first at the A&P on Twelfth Street. And when she said that, Cynthia had known that Mrs. Koplin wasn’t her mother after all. Yet she had been so certain … Now, however, she could actually see who the woman was, crouched in the back of the car. Cynthia started to whistle and to look up at the sky and to kick her toes into the sand. She was being watched and she did not intend to do a single thing wrong. If she could manage, she wanted it to seem as though she were having a very good time.
“—in the hospital—”
“—how long?”
“—he’ll be all right, of course—”
Cynthia turned so that her mother could see only her back. Turning, she saw Markie’s pail bobbling up and down at the water’s edge. It was just about to be washed away, and if it was washed away who would they blame but her! They would blame her, and then they would start asking questions — Fast as she could, she started down the beach, her arms outstretched toward the pail.
“Cynthia—”
“Cynthia, what—”
“Cyn—” Just as she got hold of the handle, somebody grabbed her arm. It was Gabe; behind him stood June, her mouth open, her hand up to her pale cheek.
“Cynthia — oh Cynthia,” June said, “what are you doing? Never—”
“Getting Markie’s pail.” She did not know whether it would help any to cry.
“Oh … Oh, Cynthia, that’s a good girl, that’s fine — oh honey, don’t go near the water alone — not today.” It was June who seemed as though she were about to weep.
“I won’t,” she said, and she hoped her mother had seen just how much June worried about her and took care of her. They all started up the beach, and while June moved off ahead, Cynthia asked Gabe, “Why doesn’t Mommy come out of the car?”
He smiled. “Martha’s not in the car, Cynthia. She’s in Chicago.”
“What’s that?” she said.
“You mean that, in the back seat? That’s a beach umbrella. That’s my father’s beach umbrella.”