MAUREEN
Clyde seems happy about how good Opal Beach has been treating us. He says we’ve already surpassed last year’s sales and went out and bought a case of sparkling wine to celebrate. After closing we have a little party in front of the giant slide, lounging on all the burlap sacks like they are sleeping bags. Jacqueline, I notice, is sitting close to one of the new boys that works the Tilt-A-Whirl. Clyde and some of the other guys are making a night of it, but I am tired and bail early.
I wander back to the trailers, wrapped up in my thoughts. Why am I feeling so lonely? The square peg, that’s why. My mom used to tell me all the time, Maureen, you’re a square peg on a grid with round holes. She’d meant it as a compliment—you stand out, you’re different, but I’d always taken it as, you don’t belong. Never had any friends in high school—how could I when I was always taking care of my mother? Not really part of the C&D crew. And besides Tammy and Clay, I don’t really have any friends in Opal Beach. After Barron’s comment at the party—well, I feel like I’ll always be the outsider here. And once the summer is over, Clay and his friends will be heading off to their Ivy League campuses, burning through bunnies there like blunts on the beach.
No, I am alone. Usually I’m okay with this. Tonight, though, for some reason I’m letting it get to me, mess with my head.
I’m almost to my trailer when I spot Desmond. I hide behind one of the trailers and squat down, watching him. He’s walking slow, swaying a bit. Probably downed one of Clyde’s bottles all on his own. He’s got a sloppy grin and looks loose like Jell-O. That’s when I notice he’s got his camera in his hand.
I hold tight, watching as he stops at each window, peers in. Looking for something to film. He finally enters his trailer, but in a minute he’s out again, tucking a baseball hat in his back pocket and walking off toward the grounds.
No camera.
I wait until he’s out of sight and then head quickly to his trailer. He didn’t lock his door, which means he won’t be gone long.
I’ve never been inside here before. It’s dark and smells bad. In one corner sits a cheap desk, messy with newspapers and empty potato chip bags. On the walls above the bed are pictures of nude women ripped from magazines. I stare at them for a few seconds, but tacked above his unmade bed they make my stomach turn, and I force myself to keep moving.
Where to look for the camera? I don’t see it, but he couldn’t have had time to hide it that well.
I hear a crunch of gravel outside and pull the blinds out, but it’s just one of the cooks stumbling back to his trailer. Still, Desmond could be back at any moment.
I try the top drawer of Desmond’s nightstand. It sticks and fights me but then it gives away with a groan. Inside are more porn magazines, a deck of cards with an Atlantic City hotel on them, a package of condoms (unopened, I note with satisfaction) and a fat wad of bills. No time to count if they’re all ones or not, I slide them into my bag. They’re slick, a bit greasy, but they also feel substantial.
Outside, I hear a bark of laughter and a few voices. The party’s breaking up. I need to get out of here. Halfheartedly, I open the other nightstand drawer.
Bingo.
The Super 8 camera is sitting on top, and there are several small boxes of film. I don’t have time to read the labels. I slip everything into my bag.
The door opens. I’m too late. I crumple to the floor. It’s a ridiculous move, because if Desmond even looks in my direction he’ll spot me. But it takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim room. Lucky for me he heads straight to his desk, stumbling slightly, singing under his breath all merry-like.
I’m a panicked deer, all limbs and no brains. I stand and lunge for the door. Too late, I realize he could be one of those people who carries a gun on him, and if so I’m about to get whatever brains I’ve got in my head splattered all over the wall.
Desmond turns, making a surprised noise in his throat. He sees me. “What the—” His eyes narrow, and he grabs me before I can even start to pull the door open. Throws me on the bed. I try to get up and he slaps me. I scream. He shoves his dirty hand over my mouth and pins my arm down, laying his weight over me. “You dirty bitch. What are you doing in here?”
I try to roll away. Kick my legs up. It’s no good. I can smell the wine on him. And something else. Something dark and potent.
“I said, what are you doing in here?” He takes his hand away. There’s a speck of food at the corner of his mouth that I fixate on. What if it’s the last thing I ever see?
I spit in his face. He curses and moves his hand to wipe it off, and I use that opportunity to push him to the side. I shove my knee in his stomach. He falls off me. “Get off me, you dick,” I say, standing up.
But he’s already recovered. He goes for my bag but I yank it away, clutching it to my chest like a baby. He’s breathing hard. I shift my body and get the side of his face with my elbow. Then I’ve got the door open and I’m running.
Desmond doesn’t follow.
I head away from the carnival, out into the street toward town and the pier. I know this is it. Another turn of fate’s Ferris wheel, another step through a door in the Hall of Mirrors from which I can never turn back.
C&D Amusements is behind me.
I stop running after a few minutes, collapse into a grove of trees at the edge of a park. My breath is ragged, each one coming before the other is finished, wave upon wave.
I pull the boxes from my bag and unravel the film, crushing it under my fingers, tearing and twisting the reels into a heap of shiny, shimmering trash that I gather up in my arms and dump into the nearest trash bin.
“Go to hell, Desmond,” I mutter. I bend over, feel something drip from my lip, and when I touch my face, I realize my nose is bleeding.
Good. I wipe it slightly, leaving a smear, and keep going. Tammy’s house is past the pier, on the other side of town. I could take the bus, but the walk doesn’t bother me. I’ll figure it out. I might be a damaged mermaid, but a mermaid for sure. Sprouting my tail. Claiming the ocean. Saving myself. My hair trailing out behind me, dancing in the salty air.
Tammy opens the door in jogging shorts and a white T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. I’m so happy to see her I nearly burst into tears. Her face changes from questioning to recognition to concern in about two seconds flat. “Maureen? Oh my god, are you okay?”
So the blood’s still there.
I nod.
“Come in. My god. What happened? You look terrible.”
I step inside, and because destiny has to throw you a few curveballs here and there, Mabel stands behind Tammy with a blank expression on her face.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I just had a... I caught Desmond filming in the windows...and I just...”
“Did he hurt you?” Tammy drags me into the light of the kitchen. She wets a paper towel and hands it to me. “Do we need to call the cops?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Mabel says in irritation.
“No, it’s fine,” I say, dabbing off the blood. “I’m done with him. I quit.”
“Good.” Tammy squints over me like a nurse examining her patient. She seems satisfied. “We’ve been wanting you to do that for a while now. I can help you find a job or whatever. I know you were worried about that.”
“Actually, could I ask a favor?” I glance over at Mabel quickly. “Could I just...maybe...crash here for a few days while I get things sorted out?”
“Absolutely not,” Mabel says, just like I knew she would.
I flinch. I don’t like asking for help just as much as Mabel doesn’t like giving it.
“Mabel.” Tammy’s voice is low and chastising.
“She steals your guy? And you offer her a place to stay?” Mabel crosses her arms in front of her chest and glares at both of us.
“She didn’t steal him, Mabel.” Tammy takes the bloody paper towel from my hand and tosses it in the trash. Then she offers me an aspirin and a small glass of water. “She can’t help it if he likes her.”
I swallow the pill. “Forget it, it’s okay, Tammy. I can find another solution.” I stand, place the glass in the sink, and move toward the door.
Tammy holds her hand out. “No, no wait. Maureen, it’s fine.” She turns to Mabel. “She can stay in my room. We won’t bother you.”
“Tammy, are you serious? She’s a—”
“How many times has Ted stayed over?” Tammy interrupts, hands on her hips. “And have I ever said one word about it?” I haven’t seen Tammy get angry very often, but when she does it’s something.
Mabel backs down. She sighs dramatically and flicks her hair back. “Fine. Whatever. Ruin your life. Just don’t eat any of my food.”
“I wouldn’t touch a raisin of yours.” To Tammy: “This will only be for a night or two, I swear.”
“Take as much time as you need,” she says. “Really. It’s fine.”
“There’s just one thing,” I say carefully. “My stuff—I need my stuff. Do you think you could drive me over there so I can pack my suitcase? Before... Desmond gets to it?”
“Tonight? Is it—Do you think it’s safe?”
I think about Desmond’s eyes when he saw me in his trailer, the feeling of his arm across my chest. Already, though, that feels like another lifetime. I flap my mermaid tail under the kitchen stool and smile tentatively at Tammy, trying to sound braver than I feel. “It’ll be fine. He won’t do anything tonight. I can sneak in and pack my bag quickly while you wait with the car.”
“You should not do that, Tammy. Absolutely not. Do you want to get in the same kind of trouble she’s in?” Mabel cocks her head in an am-I-the-only-one-who’s-sane-around-here kind of way.
“I promise, if it looks like any sort of trouble, we’ll turn back,” I say. “It’s just—well, I don’t have many things, but the things I have I don’t want to lose. Like my clothes. My journal. You know?”
Tammy nods, stands up. Decision made. She heads to her room to get her car keys, leaving Mabel and me alone. “I can see right through you,” Mabel says. “Tammy’s always been too nice. Easily manipulated by people.”
“You mean people like you? If you expect me to believe you’ve got Tammy’s best interests at heart, then you are even dumber than I thought.”
Mabel steps closer. Her voice lowers almost to a hiss. “You think I’m afraid of you and your tough act? You better be gone by the end of the week, Maureen. Or I’ll make sure you are. Got it?”
Before I can respond, Tammy comes back, car keys in hand. “Let’s go,” she says.
Mabel gives me one last pointed look and then flounces back on the couch. “Just remember what I said,” she calls as Tammy closes the door behind us.