The Forgotten Hours(23)
Dad. His green polyester pants glow in the dark. In the heat, he smells of musk and sweat. “Hot as Hades in there,” he says, emerging from the clubhouse, where the country music pulses. But it’s hot outside too.
“Anyone want to swim?” Mum’s eyeliner is smudged. Her purple linen dress has fallen off one shoulder, revealing a lacy bra strap, and her big brown hair is a tangled nest. A beaded necklace swings between her breasts, and she carries a glass of rosé.
“No!” Katie says. They are talking about skinny-dipping, which is humiliating and awkward and far, far worse whenever grown-ups get involved. “Mum, no, really, please. It’s too crowded.”
Lulu laughs so loudly that Katie is irritated. Sometimes it seems like Lulu understands her mother better than she does.
“Oh, lighten up, will you,” Dad says to his daughter. He is laughing too.
Katie looks away. Over the lake, steam rises in a thick, levitating curtain. Thin clouds are blotting out strips of the star-studded sky, and the heat of the evening has an edge to it, as though it might suddenly drop. When Katie licks her lips, salt floods her mouth. The heat presses into her, but it’s not unpleasant.
“Hey,” comes another voice. “You’re all out here.”
Katie spins around: Jack, walking toward them.
“Hiya,” says Lulu, jutting out one soft hip: both Don’t mess with me and Come hither. Katie studies her, wondering how she does it. She is so womanly, her skin, those curls, her lips bright red and luscious, almost black now in the darkness. She checks to see Jack’s reaction, but she can’t really tell what he’s thinking.
“Come out here to flirt with the girls, eh?” Katie’s father asks the boy. John concentrates on taking a sip of his beer. His hand is unsteady.
“Of course, sir,” Jack says.
“Of course, sir,” Dad repeats. When he tilts his head back to laugh, the creases in the tan lines on his neck yawn open. “You in the marines or something? Quit with the ‘sir’ business. Makes me feel old.”
Charlie finishes her wine. She runs a finger under each eye and pushes her damp hair out of her face. “Come on, John. Leave the kids to their fun. Let’s go get some water.”
But he hesitates. What is he waiting for? Is he waiting? Eventually he turns, and Charlie follows. In the silence left behind, Katie takes a shallow breath. Jack’s front is cast in darkness, his messy hair haloed.
And then, suddenly—a blinding burst of light, bleached of warmth. The spotlights on the diving board have been turned on. They light up the air, wildly exaggerating every tiny rupture in the water’s surface: snakes, snapping turtles, spiders skating on tremulous legs.
Lulu shields her eyes. “Dammit,” she says. “Can’t we have any privacy around here? Why does Tommy do that?”
“Will you go ask him to cut it out?” Katie says to Lulu, blinking rapidly. “He’ll listen to you.”
“Why me? You go,” Lulu says, glancing sideways at Jack, who has been so quiet. (So very quiet it makes Katie wonder if he has maybe changed his mind about her.) Then Lulu bunches her hair in one hand and rubs her lips together, seeming to reconsider. “Never mind. I’ll go. Back in a few. Wait here.” She storms away.
“So. Yeah.” Jack says this as though the two of them have been having an ongoing, entirely silent conversation already.
It is time for Katie to say something clever or, at the very least, something that doesn’t make her sound like an idiot. She opens her mouth and closes it again.
“You know,” he continues, “my dad wanted me to go straight back to New York, after tennis camp? Get ready for school and stuff. It’s all about college prep now. That’s all I ever hear anymore: college, college, college.” He sighs. He has a plastic bottle tucked under his left arm, and he holds it out toward her. “Want some?”
They sit down facing the water. She takes a swig and screws up her face; it is lukewarm vodka. “You missed a boring week. Tons of rain.”
“I wanted to stay.” He pauses, considering something. “I gotta head back tomorrow. My parents already left.”
“Yeah, I’m going too.” The vodka burns in her chest like gasoline. She doesn’t really like the taste of alcohol, but she is getting used to it. “I wish we didn’t have to,” she adds, and that admission knocks something loose inside her. When Jack takes the bottle back from her, their fingertips touch. He is cautious, but behind that reserve something is brewing. He is staring at her, his face bright now in the klieg lights. He lays his hand on top of hers on the broad arm of her chair. His fingers are long and tapered. He traces her bones with his thumb. They sit in silence, and she turns her hand over. With his index finger, he traces the life line in the hollow of her palm. Back and forth, back and forth. It tickles, but she doesn’t move at all. Frozen in the heat.
She thought boys would be rough, fast, but Jack isn’t, and though he does no more than touch her hand, there is a roar in her ears like when you’re in an airplane, taking off.
“Double dare,” Lulu is saying to someone as she approaches Katie and Jack. Katie can hear from her voice that she’s excited. “Bet you won’t do it!”
Katie snatches her hand from Jack’s. When she lets go, the night air whooshes over the skin of her palm. Her heart begins pounding. The lights are still shining full blast, and some boys begin emerging from the clubhouse, punching each other in the arms. Lulu is carrying a couple of red plastic cups. She has high color, and her eyes are bright.