Sightings

I kept seeing him on my ride this evening, maybe because it was getting late and the dropping sun played tricks on me. I'd see his long shadow on the road as he pulled up on me, but it was just a car. I'd see shifting movement over my left shoulder but the road was clear. The days are getting warmer and longer and I know the Snakeman is playing somewhere tonight. Like Betsy's mom said.

Betsy and I were sitting high up in the pine tree next to her building. From there you could see into Mrs. Dwyer's living room. That was how we figured out who was taking Betsy's mom's Glamour magazines. When the mailman left magazines on the table in the hall, Mrs. Dwyer would take the ones she wanted upstairs and read them while she ate DingDongs at the dining room table. After a couple days she would put them back on the table but the pages wouldn't be stiff anymore and in the spine would be DingDong crumbs.

That day we were watching Mrs. Dwyer and carving. Carving was when you took a piece of the broken sidewalk and sliced through the thick bark of the pine tree. If you cut deeper and deeper you could smell something sharp living inside of the tree. This was Betsy's idea. I felt bad about cutting into something alive, but she said the trees would last longer than us and this was our way of making something "enduring." We were carving and talking and watching Mrs. Dwyer eat DingDongs when suddenly she got out of her chair and came toward the window. I went down the tree as fast as I could. When I got to the bottom my hands were sticky and raw. Betsy was waiting for me. She yanked me under a bush.

- Do you think she saw us? Do you? Huh? - I was so scared I had to go to the bathroom. If my mom found out I was spying on Mrs. Dwyer she would kill me.
- Dingy old Mrs. Dwyer couldn't see us.
- Are you sure? She looked mad. Hey, what did you do to your leg?
There was a long scratch on the inside of Betsy's leg. From under her cut-offs there was blood coming out. She wiped at it a little.
- Hit something on the way down, I guess. Dingy Dwyer. Let's go to storage and see if there's anything new. But first – she stopped – we have to go get Captain Kirk.
- Will your mom let us?
- She better. He's MY guinea pig.

When we walked into the living room Betsy's mom was watching General Hospital. I could see the top of her head over the rocking chair. She went back and forth.
- Mom – Betsy said from the doorway – I need Captain Kirk.
The chair kept moving and there wasn't any answer. Betsy walked into the room. I stayed at the door. Betsy's mom gave me the heebiejeebies. Sometimes she would give you cookies and ask whether Mrs. Stahl was still giving you too much homework, and sometimes she didn't say a word and rocked away like a creepy puppet. You never knew which Mrs. Billings you would find when you walked in. How could Bets have such a cool dad and a weirdo mom?
- Mom – she got between the chair and the TV - I need Captain Kirk. Finn wants to see him. She bent down and picked up the guinea pig. Thanks. He'll be back in a little while.
The rocking chair shook a little and then it stopped. I couldn't see the top of Betsy's mom's head anymore. I could hear her voice though. It sounded like the Tin Man, squeaky and dry.
- What's that? - a hand lashed out at Betsy's leg and one finger stabbed at the smear of blood under her shorts. Did HE do that? Did he? We had a deal and he promised. He PROMISED.
The hand grabbed Betsy's arm. She had to hold on tight to Captain Kirk with the other.
- Did he? Do that?

Betsy pulled away.
- I was playing dodgeball. I got scratched.
- Are you telling the truth?
I saw the top of her head again and it was turning around. I wanted to run away but I wanted to help Betsy and Captain Kirk too.
- You. Is she telling the truth?
I wished Betsy hadn't lied. What was so bad about being in a tree? I couldn't answer, I was so nervous. Betsy's mom made a noise that sounded like a growl and then her voice got softer.
- It was him wasn't it. You can tell me.
I was confused and scared. I didn't want to lie. I was confused.
- It was who?
Betsy's head dropped. Her mom hissed.
- It was the Snakeman. We made a deal but he was always weak when it gets warmer. And you – she pulled hard on Betsy's arm. Captain Kirk squealed. Oh I know what you are.
Betsy stared at her mom and then pulled free.
- We'll be back by 6:30 .

Bets closed the front door behind us.

- Maybe the 10-speeds will be unlocked again today - she said, cradling Captain Kirk in one hand and rubbing her leg with the other. We walked down the steps to the basement.

The Tipping Point

As part of our swim practise Saturday morning Glenn prescribed an underwater kickset and I had a flashback to middle school and one of Coach Kinney's workouts. Coach Kinney gave us underwater sets every other week -- he said that they made your lungs stronger and bigger and to me he said they would help my singing because I would be able to hold notes longer and with more depth.

I was terrible at them -- I could never make it to the far wall without breathing at least once, and I could read Coach's disappointment in his scowl and silence.

Betsy, on the other hand... man, Betsy had them nailed. As a fly specialist, Betsy had the underwater dolphin kick down pat, and she could not only make it to the far wall; she could make it most of the way back before breathing. Because of this she went off on her own intervals, briefly touching and streamlining off the wall to head back home while the rest of us watched, gasping and awaiting our send-off. She was so fluid and smooth, like she was water herself without bone; she made it look so easy.

The time I remember was two weeks before Spring Sectionals. This was our last full practise before we began to taper, and Coach Kinney pulled out the stops. We'd just done 3500 yards of IM and freestyle, and now he told us he wanted 20 x 25yds underwater NO BREATHING on 10sec rest. The first 5 or so weren't that bad, but after that I started sending up prayers for a miracle: please God let me be able to breathe water, or just smite me down right here and end my misery.

Betsy was particularly transcendent that day; I could barely make out the blue sluice of her swimsuit as she cut through the water. Her dad was sitting in his usual place, way far away from where Grace's mom sat knitting in her fuzzy poodle sweater. Imagining that Betsy's dad was watching me made me work harder. I wanted to show him I could be tough and strong, just like his daughter.

On the last 25, I told myself I would make it to the wall without breathing. I told myself that if I made it, those dreamy blue eyes would finally SEE me and Betsy's dad would sweep me up in his arms and we'd live happily ever after in a big brick house that didn't have cockroaches in the kitchen and neighbors who ran their vacuums all the time.

I pushed off the wall with my shoulders squeezing my ears and my body stretched long and narrow. I made the voices in my head go quiet and listened to the woosh-woosh-woosh sound of my body dolphining through the water. I made it! I didn't breathe once. And when my fingers touched the wall and I popped up with a great gasping breathe Coach Kinney gave me a quick thumbs-up sign then signaled to lane 4 where Betsy was.

- She's on 75 yards now - he murmured, meaning she was tripling the distance I'd just done. I couldn't see her yet so I stole a look up in the stands, and then I knew exactly where she was. We stood at the wall watching Betsy come in, the water barely stirring above her undulating form. Her swimcap broke the water and Coach placed his palm on it like he was administering a blessing. Betsy pushed her goggles up her forehead and stood red-faced but radiant, her ribcage expanding and contracting as she caught her breath. My eyes traveled down past her stomach and then stopped. I watched until I was sure, and when Coach turned away to the blackboard I squeezed her shoulder and pointed down. We both stared as threads of red bloomed around the crotch of her swimsuit and swirled like roses dissolving in the water.

- Betsy it CAME - I whispered, awestruck. After the school nurse gave us The Talk I started wearing sanitary napkins thinking I could make my period come, but Betsy called me a retard and said that wasn't the way it worked. She swore up and down that periods were gross and she was never going to have one.

We watched Betsy's blood curl into the water and over the drone of Coach's voice at the blackboard I heard the hitch of Betsy's breath. I looked at her face, and there was no more color. Around her eyes was pale and pinched.

- Bets?? - I probed. She didn't look at me, just curled her hands around the corner of the wall, squeezed until her knuckles shined pale under the skin then lifted and popped onto the deck in one quick motion. Without a word to Coach she streaked to the girls locker room; the door hissed shut behind her. Grace's mom was staring out the window while her fingers flew. Betsy's dad was standing now, and his eyes seemed to glitter. Maybe that was just the reflection of light off the water but all of the sudden I didn't want the house with the wall-to-wall carpet anymore. I wanted to go in the locker room. But when I humped myself onto the edge of the wall Coach Kinney stopped me with a hand.
- I'm not through here - he said.
- But I have to -
- I'm not finished.
I twisted toward the locker room but Mr. Billings had already come off the stands and was walking through the locker room door. He didn't look back and when the door closed behind him the clouded glass turned his figure wavy and insubstantial.

By the time the workout was over and Coach Kinney let us go, Betsy and her dad were gone. While I was drying my hair I saw a smear of red on the paper towel dispenser. I rubbed it with a damp kleenex and it came off right away.

a poodle and a purse

sunday afternoon i procrastinated a run until dusk threatened. as soon as i set foot on trail the rain started, and me without a jacket. my mood grew even grimmer as i considered:
1. my whinging hamstring
2. life (or at least 2 months) without hooch (or at least w/o Jameson)
3. the gut i can no longer suck in, and my lack of motivation to do anything about it.

yeah my life is HARD, you don't need to tell me.

despite the hammy, i started to perk up after 30min and when i encountered another soppy soul standing by an access path to the creek, i smiled by reflex and greeted him: hello. he was wearing a broad-rimmed hat that partially shadowed his face and turned his eyes into coins of flat darkness. he looked at me straight-on as i passed and offered no response other than a derisive narrowing of the eye. fuck you, i thought, then felt braver when i'd gotten 10m on him. it's probably not as bad as you think - i hollered back, the patter of rain on leaves the only response.

my bravery flagged a bit on the return trip but he was gone. a blur of pink down by the creek caught my eye and i detoured down the access path to investigate. where the path opened up to the bank of the creek there was a small stuffed poodle, very pink, and a matching plush purse propped at the base of a spice bush. i got close enough to see that rain had tamped down the poodle's tail and ears, and the purse was monogrammed "Bridie." feeling as though i were trespassing, i backed away and turned my ipod off for the rest of my run.

- how was it? - D asked cheerily when i clumped back into the house.
- i need to find another trail - i said.

wilbur larch knows how to cheat fate

i dig john irving. from chap10 of The Cider House Rules:

“When an orphan is depressed,” wrote Wilbur Larch, “he is attracted to telling lies. A lie is at least a vigorous enterprise, it keeps you on your toes by making you suddenly responsible for what happens because of it. You must be alert to lie, and stay alert to keep your lie a secret. Orphans are not the masters of their fates; they are the last to believe you if you tell them that other people are also not in charge of theirs."

“When you lie, it makes you feel in charge of your life. Telling lies is very seductive to orphans. I know,” Dr. Larch wrote. “I know because I tell them, too. I love to lie. When you lie, you feel as if you have cheated fate – your own, and everybody else's.”

betsy wasn't an orphan, as far as i knew, but boy could she pitch some whoppers. after captain kirk ran away on halloween, betsy made up a story about one of teddy's burnout friends, a party around a bonfire, a nosy neighbor with a german shepherd on a leash that broke, and Animal Control; and she sold the lie to her mother. i guess she couldn't tell the truth because she thought she would get in trouble for taking captain kirk out trick-or-treating with us. betsy's mother was real weird about that guinea pig. when betsy would get home from school her mother would be in the living room rocking chair watching General Hospital with captain kirk in her lap, stroking him and rocking back & forth.

she won't GIVE him to me – betsy would complain – nan gave him to ME for MY birthday and if i ask for him back she yells at me and tells me i should be worrying about my grades and not a guinea pig. i can do my homework AND talk to captain kirk. he's MINE. and she's a BITCH. i would watch wide-eyed as she fought back the tears and frustration.

then she started bringing captain kirk to my place and to her sessions and swim meets and even school that one time. she got away with it because her dad stuck up for her. mr billings was great. he looked like one of the hardy boys, not shawn cassidy, the other one. we got along great. he called me “bean” and always cheered for me at swim meets even when i came in last. i wanted a dad like mr billings. once when i went to get betsy he was arguing with betsy's mother because betsy had taken captain kirk with her to her session.

- let her have him, sylvie. my mother gave him to her for a reason. do you want to go against doctor's orders?
- oh, and i can't have my own reasons? is that what you're saying? that i don't need my own tactile whatever-he-called-it? i should just play along like everything is fine, that's what you want isn't it.
his voice rumbled low and from the hallway it was hard to make out.
- just what are you saying, sylvie.
in the long silence i could hear the metronome creak of the rocking chair.
- oh this is all your fault. all your fault. your fault.
- you've had a hard day, syl. i'll make you a cup of tea.
when he rounded the corner and saw me his face brightened.
- hey, bean - he smiled and ruffled my hair - betsy's not home yet, but you can help me grade calculus exams while you wait. i wrinkled my nose. - no? okay. how about we make some tea for mrs billings. she had a hard day and she's tired.

i didn't see what was so hard about sitting in the apartment all day watching television with a guinea pig, but sometimes grownups didn't make very much sense. i felt weird about being in that apartment with mrs billings rocking her way into port charles, so i went back home and waited for betsy and captain kirk but they never came.