Family of Liars(42)

“But it was so,” said Lady Mary, and she held up the severed hand for everyone to see.

At once her two brave brothers drew their swords. They cut Mr. Fox into a thousand pieces.



* * *



—

“MR. FOX” IS my story, just like “Cinderella” was.

I am Lady Mary,

longing for love,

enraptured by a new romance,

protected by her siblings.

And Pfeff,

he is Mr. Fox.



* * *



—

BUT MAYBE I am Mr. Fox, too.

We can argue about it in hell.





PART FIVE


   Mr. Fox





44.


IT IS LUDA’S night off. After supper, Tipper asks Yardley and me to help clean up.

The boys, Penny, and Erin disappear back to Goose, with Bess trailing them. My father and Uncle Dean pour themselves nightcaps and begin arguing. Something about financial ethics and business associates—nothing interesting. Tipper shoos them outside and they take themselves to the Big Beach. Tomkin goes into the Clairmont den to watch television.

Yardley and I are to help with the dishes, the dirty countertops, and so on. Tipper gives us aprons and Yardley grumbles as she straps hers on.

“I do this every night of my life, young lady,” says my mother merrily. “So get used to it. When you have a family, there’s no alternative.”

“I think I’ll be in the operating theater,” says Yardley. “My husband will feed the kids while I’m sewing up someone’s chest cavity.”

“My kids will eat in restaurants,” I say.

“Okay, ladies,” says Tipper. “We’ll see how that goes down when you have two little ones in diapers.”

“Oh, my children won’t wear diapers,” says Yardley. “They won’t poop at all. They’ll be completely hygienic and they’ll never smell, or I won’t even have them.”

“You’re very good company,” Tipper answers. “But I need you to put on the rubber gloves and make some progress in that sink.”

When we are finished, our hands smell of bleach and our cheeks are flushed from the heat of the kitchen. Yardley and I leave my mother, who brings her glass of wine over to watch TV with Tomkin.

By now, the others have been at Goose for at least an hour. As Yardley and I head in that direction, we run into Uncle Dean and Harris, coming from the Big Beach. There is tension in the air.

Harris doesn’t look at me but claps Yardley on the shoulder as he passes her. “Done,” he says. And keeps walking.

Dean looks at his daughter. “Lotta fuss about nothing,” he says.

“I don’t think so,” she tells him.

“You want to come talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Yard, come on.”

“Carrie and I are going to Goose.”

Dean shakes his head. “Harris has a stick up his you-know-what.”

“Yeah, well. You put it there,” she says, and walks on.

“What was that about?” I ask when Dean is out of earshot.

“Oh god. I should tell you the whole thing. Do you want to hear?”

“Sure.”

“We can sit out here,” says Yardley as we step into the Goose Cottage garden, which is mostly in darkness. Light shines from the living room. The grass is littered with beer bottles and Ping-Pong balls. We can hear music thumping inside, Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes.”

I’m heading to flop onto the grass so I can learn why Yardley’s mad at her father, when she grabs my hand suddenly. “Oh no,” she says.

I turn to look where she is pointing.





45.


AGAINST THE PING-PONG table, in the shadows, Penny is kissing Pfeff.

They are wrapped around each other, her hand in his hair. He has pulled her loose linen shirt up and his fingers are touching her pale pink bra.

They do not seem to hear us, they are so lost in the ecstasy of one another.

My sister.

And Pfeff.





46.


I FREEZE.

“Do you not hear us come in the gate, you assholes?” shouts Yardley. “We’re literally right here. Me and Carrie.”

“Damn,” says Penny, whose back is against the table.

Pfeff turns around, pulling away from her. His eyes grow wide. His lips look swollen, the way they get from kissing.

I cannot face the two of them.

I cannot speak.

My throat closes, and a ball of hot fury and pain barrels into my head and pushes out through my skin.

It melts my face.

My features ooze like wax,

sliding down my bones,

dripping onto the boards beneath my feet.

I cover my face with my hands, feeling like that’s the only way to keep my flesh from pouring onto the walkway as it melts, everything agony.

Yardley puts her hand out to me, but I turn and run, bursting through the gate and down the walkway into the dark, dark spaces of the island.



* * *



—

THE IMAGE OF Penny’s hand in Pfeff’s dark hair—it makes me sick.