Sign Here(87)

I freed the key from the worn leather strap and slid it into the lock. It clicked.

“Cal?”

“But, hey, you got the water part right!” Cal said, laughing. “Bet that’s a surprise. Did you even know if there was a Hell? What about a Heaven?” I heard the sound of fabric gripped by a tight fist. “How sure are you now, Dad?”

“Cal,” I said again as I lifted the lid. I turned over a lot of rocks in my days in the Deals Department, rather excited to view the writhing mess underneath. But even though I knew enough from reading his file to know what made up this particular mess, this wasn’t my rock, and for the first time, that mattered to me.

“For the love of the dark, what, Peyote?”

“I found the key’s lock.”

I heard the General’s sagging sack of a body thud against the metal bed frame as Cal came up behind me.

“What are you talking about?”

But by then the box was open; the rock turned, and, even if I wanted to, there was nothing I could do to unturn it.





MICKEY





THE NIGHT AIR WAS cool, but Mickey felt warm all over. There were so many stars in the sky, she noticed, as she lay with her back on the wooden float. An excess of stars; overstock. Like the first round of a beauty pageant: crowded, eager, and gorgeous. Her legs felt rubbery; she was glad to have arrived. She wasn’t looking forward to the return swim, but they had time yet.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said to Ruth.

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you do it alone! Not only because I was totally with the boys that you would chicken out.”

“I don’t mean right now,” Mickey said, stretching. “I mean in general, this summer. I’m so happy you came; that you’re here with me.”

Ruth squeezed her arm.

“I mean it. I’ve never had a best friend before. Not like you. But nobody is like you, are they?” Mickey tilted her head up at the sky, grinning. “Nobody in the whole world.”

Mickey could hear the sound of the water under the float, echoing in the chamber of air caught beneath the boards. The pine trees waited on the shore, the summer breeze moving the needles in a thousand small greetings. The air hung heavy with sap and woodsmoke. It was all exactly as she knew it to be, and yet she felt like it was all happening for the very first time.

“Why are you friends with me?”

It was a question Mickey had wanted to ask from the beginning, but up until that moment, she had feared the answer. She feared the question would wake Ruth up somehow. Would make her rub her eyes and look at Mickey, asking, How did I get here?

But she didn’t feel any fear now. Now she felt nothing but weightlessness.

Ruth put her head in her hands, and Mickey realized she looked sad, sadder than she’d ever seen her.

“I’m sorry,” Mickey said, her hand groping the float for Ruth’s arm. “I didn’t mean to say the wrong thing.”

“No, you didn’t,” Ruth said, catching Mickey’s fingers in hers. “It just makes me sad that you don’t know why I would want to be friends with you. That you don’t know how great you are.”

“Oh, come on—” Mickey started, flapping her hand free.

“No, Mick, I’m serious. You know, when we first became friends, I didn’t know what to expect, but you . . . you’ve changed me.”

“In a good way?”

“I think so,” she answered. “Yes.”

The float was quiet, and Mickey closed her eyes, feeling the gentle rocking of the water.

“Okay,” she exhaled finally. “I’ll do the dare now, and then we can go back and play with the boys more.”

She slapped her hand over her mouth.

“I didn’t mean ‘play with them,’ like, in a dirty way! ’Cept maybe . . .”

She began to fiddle with the clasp of her bra, but her fingers were those of the foam variety favored by sports fans.

“Let me,” Ruth said. The bra fell from her shoulders, and Mickey caught it with both hands.

“I think I’m drunk,” she said, giggling. “And I think I like it.”

Ruth pulled Mickey’s bra from the tangle of her arms and laid it on the float.

Mickey dipped her feet into the lake, raising goose bumps up and down her legs. She was an open current. For the first time in as long as she could remember, the world passed through her with ease.

“Is this how being drunk always feels?”

Ruth twisted her hair over one shoulder.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Anything,” Mickey said, closing her eyes again as she began lowering herself into the water. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” Ruth went on. “But I’ve had so much fun here with you and your family—it’s more than fun, really. I love it here. I love it here maybe more than I’ve loved anywhere before. And you’ve all been so nice to me. I’ve never been with anyone like you all. If I had known—”

“You should come every summer!” Mickey said as she patted the float blindly again, this time for Ruth’s legs. She was halfway in now. The water was cold, but she was adjusting. Ruth edged forward and pulled Mickey’s head into her lap.