Drowning

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"I can't stand the sight of your face for one more minute. Let me
out!"


Sharon jerked the door open before the car had completely
stopped, cursing under her breath, the prim, beige Prada clutch
swinging from her wrist. Sid knew she wouldn't actually get out. He let
the Lexus roll slowly to a stop, pumping the breaks ever so gently,
imperceptibly, until he saw the red rise in her cheeks.


"Let me out of this goddamn car!" she screeched. "Look at
this. We're twenty feet from the door. Sadistic fuck."


She grabbed her travelling bag from the back seat and
stormed off down the driveway. Her hips swung severely as she walked,
making her look almost comical in her drab brown knee-length skirt.



"Spoiled, selfish little bitch." Sid waited in the car for a
moment, resting his head against his hands on the steering wheel.
The summer sun beat down hot through the windshield and made his head
ache. The drive from Washington, D.C. to her family's estate in upstate
New York had been too long. In fact, their entire two-year, three
month, and twenty-seven day relationship had been too
long.


He couldn't say that it had all been bad. For the first year
or so he had rather enjoyed cooling off in the shadow of such a
powerful, ambitious woman, and of course without her the firm would
never have made him full partner. She'd been like an older sister to
him at times, teaching him the ropes, sharpening his legal and
political savvy. But something about the ring had changed things. When
she finally got her proposal last Christmas, she had started arguing
with him about everything-wedding plans, his family, their apartment,
his shoes. Nothing was ever good enough for her. Including
him.


He thought for a moment about just leaving her there,
driving all the way back to D.C. while she cried it out in the arms of
her doting father.


Who was he kidding? Sharon didn't cry. She'd take the next
flight back to the city and be in the board room with a pair of
scissors ready for his balls when he arrived.
With a sigh he popped the trunk of the Lexus. One of the gardnerss
came running over for the luggage. He helped him carry it to the
door.


"Sharon's just upstairs visiting with her father." Olivia's
hands shook as she poured her tea. "He's not doing so well. Did she
tell you?"


"Something like that, yes." Sid took a swig from his gin and
tonic and watched the bees swarming around the rose bushes. The light
was so intense; he couldn't wait for the cover of nightfall.



"That's what happens when you get old. Your heart goes, your
lungs go. The sad thing is, Walter's got a good twenty years on
me."


"I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner. I got lost coming
off the interstate. And I know Sharon's very busy and you don't get to
see her that often."


Olivia managed a smile. "I suppose I should try to be a
little more upbeat for you, then. You'll get to meet my youngest
daughter; she's finally home from boarding school. Is this only the
third time you've been here, then?"


"Fourth."


"Fourth! Well, three visits is hardly enough to get to know
my future son-in-law. Although I must say, you get even more tall,
dark, and handsome every time I see you."


He laughed. He liked Mrs. Johnson. "Darker, maybe. It's been
a hot summer. I don't know about taller, though."


"It would be nice if we had some tall grandchildren in this
family. Joyce is living with that woman in New York, and I-Oh dear,
there goes Sharon."


Sid leaned over and peered through the screen door. She
immediately caught his gaze.


"Don't look at me!" she yelled. "I'm going to my
room."


Olivia looked at him with sad, soft eyes. "Why don't you go
try out the swimming pool? I don't think we had it finished the last
time you came here."


He nodded and got up from his chair, gulping down the last
of his drink. "Maybe she'll have calmed down a bit by the time I've
done a few laps."

"Yes, maybe."


Sid pounded the water in hard strokes, letting the coolness
of the pool overrun his heated skin. A few rays of warm afternoon
sunlight filtered through the enormous glass panel of the atrium. It
was like a cleansing bath washing his troubles away; he wished he
didn't have to come up for air. Finally he stopped to catch his breath,
leaning on the steps in the shallow end. Just below the surface of the
water he noticed a few gray hairs peeking out over his chest. He
wondered idly if he should pluck them.


Just then a figure moved out of the shadows by the door. A
teenage girl padded across the floor and stopped at the wall adjacent
to him. She had the face of an angel, with big blue eyes, high
cheekbones, and pouty lips. He saw her test the water with a
pink-enameled toenail. Her long legs balanced a lanky figure that had
just recently finished developing the swell of womanly curves. In her
he recognized the beginnings of a heartbreaking beauty that would make
any man do exactly what she wanted him to.


"Hi," she said, seeing him looking at her. "I'm Gretchen.
Sharon's sister."


"I'm Sid Wasserman, her fiance. Nice to meet you.
Finally."


She tiptoed over to him and they shook hands.



"Wow," he said when he saw her up close. "You don't look
anything like Sharon."


"Yeah, well, Daddy's first wife was darker than my mom. And
shorter, I guess."


"I see. So, what brings you back here? You're not usually
around in August, are you?"


The girl smiled impishly. "Got kicked out of boarding
school. This was going to be my last year, but oh
well."


"Are you thinking about college?"


"No. But my parents are, of course. I told them I want work
in one of my father's factories for a year, maybe in Belgium. And then
I want to volunteer with the Red Cross. It's better than the same
boring, stuffy, meaningless crap I've been doing for the last eighteen
years."


"That sounds like a good plan."


"Tell that to my father!"


Sid shook his head and chuckled. "Oh-kay, then. Well, feel
free to come in if you want; I was just catching a few laps before
dinner."


Gretchen placed two feet on the step beside him, shivered
visibly, and jumped in. She came up laughing, spewing water from her
mouth. He watched her glide effortlessly to the other side of the pool
and back, kicking her long, sinewy legs like dorsal fins.



He swam in the other lane for a while and couldn't keep up.
He returned to the steps, breathing hard. Eventually she popped out of
the water and gave his knee a playful squeeze.


"Given up?" she laughed.


"I'm a little out of shape, I guess."


"How old are you?"


"Thirty-four."


She rolled her eyes. "That's ancient! I thought you were
younger for some reason."


"Really? That's interesting. Sharon's two years older than
me."


"Ugh. Sharon is even more ancient."


He smiled and watched her dip back into the water for
another lap.


"See you at dinner," he called as he stood up. "Whenever
that will be."


They convened around the table at seven. Sid cautiously
edged in beside Sharon, who stared at the white floral centerpiece in
stony silence.


"I'm glad you were able to get yourself under control," he
whispered. "Your mother went to a lot of trouble to arrange all this
for us."


"This was all your fault."


"MY fault?"


"Yes. I would think you'd have some more consideration. My
father is very sick, probably dying. If you had planned this trip
better, we could have avoided all this stress. First you took the wrong
exit. Then you didn't wake me up. Then we got here late and it took me
at least an hour to unpack¦ I only just finished five minutes
ago."


"For God's sake. We hardly ever see your family. Can't you
just pretend to be happy?"


"Go to hell, Sid."


He bit his lip hard to keep from fuming at her. He unfolded
his napkin and placed it in his lap.


Gretchen scurried into the dining room last, resplendent in
a V-neck, powder-blue blouse that set off the golden color of her hair.
She smiled and waved at him. He nodded back. His eyes migrated briefly
to her perky breasts as she took her seat.


Walter Johnson wheezed into a standing position and clanked
his fork against his glass.


"As some of you may have noticed," he began, his gnarled
white hand gripping the crystal flute, "I haven't got long to go on
this earth. But one thing I am grateful for is my lovely and successful
daughter, and my future son-in-law. Here's to a lot of love in their
household, and many grandchildren."


"Cheers!" Mrs. Johnson called happily.


Sid and Sharon clicked their glasses together without making
eye contact.


After they had picked through several portions of braised
quail and listened to Sharon brag about the new clients the firm had
landed, Gretchen decided to interject.


"So, Daddy, when will I get my own toast?"


The rest of the table looked up.


Walter sighed and took a deep puff of oxygen through his
mask. "When you graduate from college. Or marry a nice young man like
Sid here."


"I'd have to find a boyfriend first, I guess. But I'd rather
marry him than spend four years learning nothing."


"No one would marry someone as irresponsible as you. Look at
your sister. She's got it together. That's what attracted Sid to her.
Isn't that right, Sidney?"


"Yes, sure, of course." He wanted to say that Gretchen was a
hundred times more attractive than Sharon, not just because of her
physique, but also because she actually smiled sometimes and was bright
and pert and hopeful. But he didn't.


"College doesn't teach you anything about the real world,"
she went on. "About what it's like to do honest work for a living, or
about the suffering of other people."


"I'll be damned if you're going to spend my money helping
AIDS orphans in Africa. I don't want to get into this now," Walter
said. "Either pipe down or go to your room."


"Fine." She jumped up from the table and ran toward the
veranda.


"No wonder he likes me best," Sharon murmured, cutting into
a slice of beet.


That night Sid tossed around in his bed, bunching the covers
into a large ball at his feet. He listened to the crickets chirping
outside and to Sharon sharply turning the pages of a novel as she read
in the twin bed beside him.


He turned on his side and stared at her.


"I can't sleep with the light on," he said.


She regarded him cooly. "Why not? You had no trouble
sleeping at the staff meeting two weeks ago."


"I suppose you don't want to make love, then. What else is
new?"


"I'm just not in the mood. You've been getting on my nerves
lately; it's quite a turnoff."


He flung himself violently against the pillow and laid his
arm over his eyes. "Do you even love me at all any
more?"


"I don't know. I just know that I need for you to leave me
alone and let me be. I need time, and space. You screw everything up.
You're driving me crazy."


"Time and space? We're supposed to be married in three
months."


"I'm sure you'll have shaped up by then. I hope so, anyway.
My father is really looking forward to this whole wedding thing so that
he can see me cover all the bases before forty."


"Is that why you're doing it? To please
him?"


"I might as well be honest with you," she said, closing the
book. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, showing off her
angled features. "It's a simple formula, really. Grandchild equals
inheritance. The more I reproduce, the more my share increases. But if
I don't have a child, I'll have hardly enough to live on. That's the
way the will is written. I guess it was Walter's way of trying to be
fair."


He sat up with a jerk, feeling suddenly clammy. "But¦ but¦
you don't need that money. You would do fine just by yourself. We would
do just fine. Wouldn't we?"


"You're an enterprising person, Sid. I don't really want to
be married--to anybody--but that's why I picked you. I knew that even
if things went bad, which they have, the money would still be important
enough to you to stick it out."


"But it's not! It's not important. Being in love is
important. Wanting the same things out of life is important. Shit!
Where are your priorities?"


She shrugged and went back to reading. "I guess we don't
want the same things out of life, then. I thought getting married would
be the proper thing to do, for appearances and so on. I can find
someone else."


Dumbfounded, he got up from the bed, put on his robe and
slippers, and staggered out of the bedroom toward the veranda. A wave
of nausea crept over him even as the clean night air met his face. He
slumped onto the cushions of the porch swing and gazed out at the
starry sky, contemplating. He would break it off with Sharon in the
morning. So his job would be toast. So what? He could move to a smaller
city, find another firm to work for-he had accomplished some things on
his own, after all-and maybe someday, when he had recovered from all of
this, find a real human being to share his life with.


He didn't notice Gretchen standing beside him until she
said, "So, what did your parents do for a living?"


He started and pulled his robe together over his knees.
"They were schoolteachers."


"Sorry if I scared you. I couldn't sleep." She slid onto the
bench beside him. The strap of her cotton pajamas slipped down her
shoulder. Hazy moonlight revealed the tracks of tears on her
cheeks.


"Do you need a tissue?"


"No, thanks." She smiled weakly and wiped her nose. "That's
a great profession, teaching."


"Well, apparently it wasn't good enough for me; I had to go
and become a hotshot lawyer. Sometimes I look back on my life and I'm
not sure I made the best decisions, or at least didn't make them for
the right reasons. It's not always a good idea to go after what you
want at any price."


"What if it's for a good cause, though?"


He laughed. "Your altruism is touching."


"The nice thing about having parents with no resources," she
said, picking at the polish of her pedicure, "is that you don't depend
on them for everything. And because of that, they can't tell you what
to do."


"Well, I did what my parents wanted me to because I valued
their opinion. Not because they were dangling cash in front of my face.
But really, I guess they just wanted me to be happy."


"Do you think my dreams are stupid?"


"Of course not. In fact, I think they're quite
noble."


"I wish he would help me follow them, then. Why not pay for
my trip to Africa? Only Sharon gets his blessing. She does all the
right things in life. She has so much more going for her than I
do."


"Now, I wouldn't say that."


She sniffled and a few new tears dropped down her cheek. "My
father doesn't love me."


He put his hand on her shoulder and instinctively brushed
the strap of her pajama back into place. "Of course he
does."


"How do you know?"


"Because that's what parents do."


"Well, Sharon doesn't love you. I can tell. And isn't that
what engaged people do?"


He was quiet as he took his hand from her shoulder. She
searched his face. He looked away.


"Why don't we go for another swim?" she asked abruptly. "It
might help us take our minds off of things."


"I guess that's not a bad idea. I'm not going to sleep
anyway."


They left the lights off to keep from disturbing the rest of
the household. There was just enough moonlight filtering through the
atrium for them to see in the dark. The night was silent except for the
gentle trickles and gushes of the water as they cut through it like
slick knives.


At some point Sid rested on the steps again and Gretchen
joined him. Even in the dark, he could see that she had changed into a
different bathing suit, a little, blue, string bikini with a cherry
print on it. He tried not to gawk at her body as she sat beside him.
She seemed to notice his struggle and leaned back on her elbows,
showing off her smooth stomach. At once he felt very uncomfortable
sitting there with her.


"Well, that was good, but I think I'm ready for bed," he
said, turning away.


She grabbed a hold of his leg as he stepped out of the pool.
"Hold on, now, you have to race me first."


"It's getting late."


"Come on. Just one more lap. If you beat me, I'll let you
go."


"You know I can't."


"Try butterfly stroke. It's my weakest."


"It's mine, too. Just one lap, okay?"


Gretchen bobbed excitedly as she waited for him. "On your
mark¦ Get set¦ Go!"


They took off through the lanes, kicking, splashing, gasping
for breath. They were head to head until the final three meters, when
Gretchen pulled in front of him. She turned rapidly and intercepted him
at the wall. Before he knew what she was doing, she had her arms and
legs wrapped around him in a tight embrace.


"What are you doing?" he asked in alarm. "Stop it. Stop it
now."


He had to hold on to the wall to keep them from going under,
so he tried to pull them both toward the railing. Her hands were at the
back of his head and her lips were everywhere, nibbling hungrily at his
ear, pressing insistently against his neck. He felt his erection harden
against her and it terrified him.


"Gretchen, stop it now."


He had almost managed to maneuver their bodies to the edge
of the pool when she finally got her mouth firmly on his and somehow
slipped her fingers inside of his bathing suit. He let out a small,
involuntary moan. It was over.


"I need you to love me," she said. "I need you to love me
like I love you now."


She hoisted herself onto the deck and he followed. A
pastel-striped beach towel lay in a pile a few feet beside them; she
snatched it and carefully tucked it underneath her. On this small
cushion over the marble tile, she undid the straps of her bikini and
stretched out languidly for him, naked and glorious.


"You are so beautiful," he murmured, moving his hands over
her. "So¦goddamn¦beautiful."


Her blue eyes glinted a little in the moonlight as he
positioned himself above her. Something had changed in her face. She
looked less angelic to him now, and more like a goddess emerging from
some lake, where she had lured her lovers beneath the surface and
devoured them.


She squealed a little when he penetrated her, and for the
first minute or so he found it rather difficult to move inside of her.
He thought that maybe he should stop in case it hurt her. But he
couldn't stop. He sucked greedily at her mouth and thrust into her
rhythmically like he was treading water in the ocean, trying to keep
from drowning. She arched her beautiful, smooth body against him in
reply. He cried out and dug his fingers into her shoulders. His orgasm
hit with such force, it almost felt as if his testicles had been caught
in a vice. When he finally finished, he collapsed on top of her,
panting. The chlorine in her hair stung his nostrils as he rested his
head in her neck.


She lay very still for a moment, and then gingerly shook him
off of her. He rolled over onto his back and watched her dress herself.
He was so stunned by what had happened that he wasn't sure what to do
next, so he waited for her response. Without a word, she padded off
into the darkness and the door closed behind her.


He sat up and looked around. Panic began to set in. Was
there any evidence? The towel they had crushed beneath them caught his
eye. A small, dark spot the size of a dime floated ominously over the
pastel stripes. He picked it up and studied it more closely, checking
it from different angles. It was definitely blood.


"Jesus Christ," he said under his breath. "She was a virgin.
Jesus Fucking Christ."


He bent his knees to his chest and hung his head over them,
rocking back and forth. He stayed like that until the sun rose and sent
the first yellow, wakening rays through the windows.


At the breakfast table, Sharon seemed less annoyed than
usual. She even poured Sid some coffee instead of waiting for the
housekeeper to do it.


"You look awful," she said.


"I didn't sleep well."


"I heard you come back in the room last night. What were you
rummaging for?"


"Oh, uh, my bathing suit. I went for a swim. Couldn't
sleep."


Gretchen sauntered into the kitchen and sat quietly at the
far end of the table. With her bedraggled hair pulled back in a
ponytail and her white cotton pajamas rolled up at the knees, she was
the picture of youth. Sid stirred his coffee vigorously, watching the
cream swirl around like a little whirlpool. He wished that he could get
sucked down in that vortex and never come up again.


When everyone was seated, Sharon said, "I've been thinking
that Sid and I should postpone the wedding a few months. You know, to
give us time to think."


The color drained from Olivia's face. "But, dear, I'm not
sure how much time your father has. And you're not getting any younger.
What if he never sees his grandchildren born?"


"You never know," Gretchen said coyly. "This is the most
fertile time in my life. I could be pregnant right
now!"


Sid spat out a mouth full of coffee and coughed. Olivia
gasped.

"I know you're a virgin, you little moralist!" Sharon
giggled. "Hate to inform you, you have to have sex in order to get
pregneant."
"Thank God," Walter groaned, taking a deep puff of oxygen. "At least
Gretchen is thinking of me."


"More coffee, Sid?" Gretchen asked politely.


He got up from the table, shoved his chair aside, and
wandered out onto the veranda. The sun blazed white-hot in the sky,
illuminating everything around him in piercing intensity. God, how he
wished it would rain.