––––––––
“It’s not fair,” I tell myself as I walk down the hill toward East Sands with my bag bouncing against my back. “It’s not fair to be born with this pathetic lack of courage. Not able to rebel even against my parents.” Before I reach the sand I stop for a second to find my family. It’s not difficult, I just have to look for the most garish towels and a couple of rugrats running around like they’ve got fire ants in their swimsuits. Shakespeare’s face and the logo of a major bookstore chain stand out from the rest of the towels—and somehow my parents have the nerve to ask why I can’t be normal.
I put my towel down a little distance away, so it won’t be obvious to anyone who doesn’t know me whether I’m with these weirdos or not. My mother lets out a sort of little grunt that I take as a greeting. My father moves his head, but it doesn’t mean he’s noticed my presence. It could be his way of greeting me, but it could also just be that he approves of what he’s reading. He’s always had a lot more to say to his books than to me. It isn’t his fault, he says, it’s because I’m so quiet.
I lie down without taking off my clothes. That way at least I feel ready to run at any moment, if I get the chance. But I won’t get the chance—I know it, the whole universe knows it. Even those seagulls laughing at me right now know it. I can feel my bad mood boiling up inside of me, just like when you boil milk in a saucepan and it bubbles over. That out-of-control feeling—that’s how my temper spills out of me. It’s not that I like it, but I can’t help it, either.
The wind tugs at my t-shirt. I look at the passing clouds and amuse myself by looking for recognizable shapes. The thing about my bad moods is that—just like the milk—they bubble up quickly, but they settle down quickly, too. I wiggle my bare toes a little. The fresh air and the sea breeze are nice today. It’s a shame not to have my iPod; the clouds could use a little music as they dance. I slip my jeans off without getting up and glance over at my parents, both of them with their respective novels. Suddenly I get goose bumps. I’m not sure if it’s from the cool wind or the sight of my parents, but I’m pretty sure it’s the latter. I look around, like always, with the feeling that the rest of the world must be staring and pointing at us. I feel sick wen I see how eagerly they shove their faces into their books. It’s just warped. When I was little I had terrible nightmares where some book swallowed my parents up, starting with the nose. In an instant the head disappeared into the pages, and then the body turned into a kind of goo, and seeped into the paper. Sometimes the overzealous reader disappeared entirely, and sometimes the book snapped shut with the feet still outside, wiggling like the antennae of an insect.
I sense a movement to my right. My mother lifts her head. No, please—not now! You’ve already greeted me with a snort, that’s more than enough. I look fervently up at the sky, wishing some being from on high would beam me up. But there aren’t any beings around this time of day; they must be napping. I settle on prayer. It’s not that I believe in anything, but I send my prayer up anyway, just in case it has some effect: “Don’t let it happen now. Don’t let this be one of those moments chosen to share one of those beautiful sentences or oh-so-interesting ideas that would put a rock to sleep.” My mother’s nose goes up and then down. I see her bookish profile disappear into the pages and then peek back out at the world. I feel it coming. I prepare for the worst: an entire passage that might take up two or three pages—it’s enough to make you laugh at water torture. I start to get up, determined to set off on a walk that will take me at least to Japan. I can understand that people might want to waste their lives behind a book, but there’s no reason to force everyone else to listen to stupid stories that don’t make any sense. I’m already on my feet when my mother closes the book and lies down. False alarm.
I sit down on my towel again and concentrate on the rocking of the waves, on the people passing by. With my eyes half-closed they’re nothing but little floating spots. I live in a world of little spots. I like the way everything loses its form and turns into something other than reality. I open my eyes wide. I can make out the twins from a distance—it’s them, unmistakable. I half-close my eyes again and their bodies blur until they disappear. I turn my head and do the same with my parents. They disappear. They all disappear and they don’t even know it. The perfect fantasy—though by the time I was eleven I had already learned that there are certain things you don’t share with other people. You can’t say that an ideal world would be one where your family disappeared. You can’t say that, much less write it down, if you don’t want to end up in the psychologist’s office after a visit to the principal. How sad, to learn at eleven years old that a “free” essay isn’t actually free at all! “Utopia, an ideal world”—from there you could write whatever you wanted... Damn school, nest of nasty, hypocritical rats...
“Listen, listen,” says my father, and the excitement in his voice startles me. I look at him as if he were speaking to someone else.
“Yes, listen. Your mother’s asleep.”
I deserve it. For letting my guard down—I should have walked all the way to Greenland. Seriously, what depraved being created literature? When? And above all, why? Out of all the useless things in life the most useless is inventing worlds with people who never existed and never will. My father has begun to read, so I nod as if I’m listening. I’ve had years to perfect this art. Suddenly a little whisper of pride sneaks into my heart, and I puff up like a balloon. My father’s voice as he goes on reading sounds farther and farther away. I’m not there anymore. I’m a great big hot-air balloon just starting to rise, buoyed up by the realization that I’ve gotten away with all of it. I give a little smile. I did it! I finished my mandatory education and got out of the rats’ nest and away from the hypocrites without being poisoned by uselessness. I don’t know how I did it, but I avoided every single reading. I can say with pride that not one classic has entered my system. And here I am—see, you can live perfectly well without the essentials. They even tested me on those books I was supposed to have read... I could call myself a genius. I really should call myself a genius.
“Aaah!”
The piercing cry isn’t part of my father’s reading. My brain doesn’t need even half a second to process the information, and before I realize it my parents and I are already on our feet, looking desperately for the twins. The beach has filled up—where on earth can all these people have come from? We make our way as best we can to the edge of the water. Right where the sand stays damp and soft I see five boys arguing heatedly. It looks like an older boy has just managed to pull them apart into two groups. Three little bullies on one side and on the other, the twins. Mercutio has his head thrown back. Bright red blood runs down his neck and stains his skin. Benvolio is crying and crying.
My heart is pounding in my ears from running—or is it from the sight of my brother covered in blood? I feel dizzy. I know it’s not a good time, but I feel dizzy. The people turn into little spots, but this time I’m not doing it on purpose. The world vanishes.
“Are you all right?”
I think it’s my father reading one of his passages, but his voice sounds different. And why would he be reading now? Something happened to my brothers—that should make him put his book down for once.
“Hey, how are you feeling?”
I wonder if I stayed in my room after all. Maybe I finally got hold of myself and got over my fear of contradicting my parents. I’m touching something soft, yes—it must be the quilt on my bed. I try to smile: I kept the promise I made to myself. I’m in my room. I open my eyes and the sun makes me close them again. Then I notice that something is casting a shadow over me. Whoever it is speaking to me has moved to block the light. My eyelashes feel heavy but I force myself to lift them. Hazel. Clear hazel. That’s all I can think. Hazel. Honey. No, hazel. The eyes looking down at me are hazel; my father’s are green. Now I know I’m lying on the sand. I felt it when the water wet my toes.
“What happened?” I ask.
“You fainted.”
Some fingers, which I suspect belong to the speaker, move my hair out of my face. It’s the most ridiculous thing, but it feels like a slight electrical shock passes through my body. Those hazel eyes go on gazing at me but a ray of sun passes between us, so I can’t make out the boy’s face. I turn my head gently and see my family: my parents are reading and the twins are playing cards. I can’t believe this! The only way they should be allowed to leave me lying here is if they had to go to the hospital. No, I correct myself—not even then. If they were in an ambulance speeding to the hospital I should be lying next to them and not here. There is no way this should be allowed to happen to me. There should be a parenting police—that’s right—and they should be arrested and never set free...
“You’re pale. Do you feel all right?”
I nod, which makes my head hurt a little. A familiar voice. I lean on my elbow and sit up. Everything is spinning. The outrage I’m feeling won’t even fit inside my body. I sit there, unable to take my eyes off my family. I see it, but I can’t believe it.
“Don’t worry about the boy from before, his parents already took him away. He’s fine.”
“I see that,” I answer, in a voice so soft I doubt it’s even audible. I clear my throat before going on. “It’s incredible.”
What really seems incredible is that right here on this beach, right now, right after what we talked about yesterday, I should find Axel.
“Well, it wasn’t anything serious. They packed his nose with some tissue and it stopped bleeding right away. It seemed like a volcano, I know, but it wasn’t serious... Anyway, the important thing is that you’re all right.”
Oh my God, Axel, why won’t you stop talking? If I weren’t so dazed I would look you right in the eye and ask. Of all the people in the world it had to be Axel who came to my aid.
He keeps on talking as he sits down next to me, without stopping even for a second. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them he’s still there—I know because I can hear him, but I can’t look away from my family. How can they be so calm? Oh, hey, I’m just sprawled out over here! Something happened to your invisible daughter.
Axel goes quiet. When I look at him it almost makes me jump. His eyes are shining, almost transparent, like a piece of hard candy... Why is he giving me such a worried look? I reach up and touch my head—am I bleeding or something? No, everything seems fine.
“Were you really scared? It was because of the blood, wasn’t it? You fainted.”
“Brilliant. I fainted.”
“Yeah... I guess that was obvious.”
Right away I feel bad for having said it. When will I finally manage to keep all these snarky things from coming out of my mouth? Sometimes I’m really a loose cannon. But Axel... well.
“Blood doesn’t scare me,” I say, trying to get Axel to pay attention to these words and forget my previous ones. “Besides, it had to happen. Not that I fainted, I mean, well... it’s just obvious: sooner or later Mercutio had to pay.”
“Mercutio?”
Beneath Axel’s calm, shining eyes is a smile I can’t identify—is it interest or amusement? No doubt it’s mockery, as usual.
“Yeah, it sticks out like a sore thumb, I know,” I say, with a sigh of resignation. “Mercutio and Benvolio. Only my parents would come up with something like that. Some names.”
“Your parents? So they’re your brothers?
“What do you think?”
Okay, so the sarcasm was unnecessary. I go to stand up but I’m still a little dizzy. I don’t want to be in view of my family. It’s not likely, but they could look out at the sea and find me in their line of sight. I don’t think they’d look at me, of course, but they might look out at the sea. If they happen to see me here, talking with him... I could end up being interviewed as tonight’s special guest at dinner, and I wouldn’t like that at all. I get up. I haven’t even finished brushing the sand off my legs when the twins run past me and splash into the ocean. Smiles spread across their faces when they see us, and they give an encore of this morning’s little kiss-throwing number.
“Your brothers are so funny!”
“Do you really think so?”
Axel doesn’t answer. This time I wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. The one time I ask something seriously... There’s an uncomfortable silence that lasts one or two seconds—eternal seconds, not regular ones. Axel and I avoid looking at each other. “What’s weird is that something didn’t happen sooner with those two little brats,” I say, in the most casual and relaxed tone I can manage. “They think they can mess around with anybody without anything ever happening. I guess deep down it’s really my parents’ fault.”
“But it was the other three.”
I look at Axel, incredulous. I can’t keep our eyes from locking onto each other.
“How do you do it?” he asks.
“What?”
“Make your eyes change color. I’ve never understood how you do it.”
“They don’t change.”
“Of course they do. They went from gray to green and then to blue.”
I feel really awkward. I know how much he likes the way my eyes change color.
“I don’t do anything. They just change.”
I look out at the ocean. Luckily my brothers are totally absorbed in their stupid splashing game. I start walking.
“Good idea, let’s go for a walk.”
Who said I wanted to go for a walk with you? I’m even a failure at this! I tried to do just the opposite, to show you that I wanted to be alone. Stand up. Walk off. It should be easy, right? Axel walks along beside me in silence. I realize I’m being too hard on myself, yet again. It’s not that I’m a failure at expressing what I want, it’s that Axel has a sixth sense. He doesn’t always use it, but he has it. He realizes everything. What I want, what I don’t want. Sometimes I suspect that when he doesn’t use his sixth sense it’s only because he doesn’t feel like it. Because it suits him.
“They didn’t realize you’d fainted,” he says after a while. “You shouldn’t feel bad about it. How could you think they would just go off like that, calmly, if they knew you weren’t okay?”
Like I said: he sees what I think. It hurts me more than you could imagine to be ignored like that by my own family. He touches my shoulder. It ought to just be a regular pat of encouragement, but no, Axel doesn’t know the first thing about pats—he caresses my shoulder. I’m not exaggerating, and I’m not mistaken—that was definitely a caress. I pick up the pace and keep my eyes glued to the sand.
“They didn’t know you were sick.”
“Come on, Axel,” I pronounce his name with a snort, “How could they not know? They forgot about me like always. That’s just how it is.”
Axel takes me by the shoulders so he can look at me. Shit! I love his eyes. I look away and start walking again.
“I don’t think anyone realized what happened to you. Your brother had blood all down his chest, it was pretty shocking. Everyone was paying attention to him. Right when you fainted the parents of the other kids showed up and, well—there was kind of an uproar. Everybody was talking all at once, and you fainted so discreetly...”
“Next time I’ll clap before I fall down.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right—fainting discreetly doesn’t make much sense. But... that’s how it was. Everyone was yelling and arguing and you collapsed, just like that.”
“So how’d you realize what had happened to me?”
Axel touches my hand. I know. I know how he realized. I look at him with a serious expression.
“All right,” he says, putting his hands up.
“What was the fight about?” I ask.
“Because the other boys made fun of your brothers’ names, as far as I can tell.”
“How odd, to make fun of such normal names!”
“Mercutio and Benvolio!...” Axel smiles so widely that for a moment I’m afraid he’ll get sand in his teeth. “Your parents are really clever. Romeo...”
“Yeah, Mercutio and Benvolio from Romeo and Juliet,” I interrupt sharply. Time to find out if you’re a book freak, too... “How do you know?”
I stop walking. I need to look him in the eye to hear his answer. I want the truth.
“Know what—what the names have to do with Romeo and Juliet?” He shrugs and holds both hands out as if to say he couldn’t help knowing. “Romeo’s friend and Romeo’s cousin. It’s brilliant for a set of twins.”
Axel just let me down in the worst way possible. It feels like I caught him doing—I don’t even know, something horrific. I suspected he was a freak, him too, just like my parents. But it’s one thing to suspect it and another to prove it. What kind of cosmic joke is this? Why do they all have to be so close to me? The planet is huge, couldn’t they spread out a little? God of the misfits? Yes—you. It’s your number one underdog calling. Please don’t let me die right here and now. Not next to someone who got the literary reference of my brothers’ names right off the bat.
The wind makes so much noise in my ears that I’m cut off for a few seconds. For a moment I feel alone on the beach, alone in the world. I glance over at Axel. I hate him with everything in me for looking at me with that sweet expression. It always makes me feel so nervous. He’s noticed my loneliness. He’s a book freak, now I know it. I hate feeling so confused about him, but no—I can’t fall back in just because we walked along the beach for a little while. Just because he looks at me like that. Because he knows how lonely I feel. I remember suddenly what he said to me two days ago at the dorm. Dammit! Yesterday it was all clear, just this morning it was all clear. Even five minutes ago. Besides, we talked it over, right?
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” I answer, obviously surly, and start walking again.
This is how it is: there are things that put me in an indescribably bad mood in a fraction of a second. Sometimes I wonder if there are specific things that make me seethe like this, or if it’s just how I am. Maybe a bad mood is my natural state.
“Is it because I’m walking with you?” I look at him out of the corner of my eye. “Well,” Axel lowers his gaze, “I don’t see why I can’t walk with you.”
“We talked about it.”
“You talked about it,” Axel replies.
I know we could get tangled up in an argument about who said what yesterday, who decided that the best thing was for us to stop seeing each other. I really don’t feel like arguing. Not here. Not now that I’m feeling this hole of loneliness.
“Your brothers seem fun to me,” says Axel, changing the subject. “I’ve seen them around here before. With those cute curls of theirs...”
“How could you not see them! It’s enough to make you cringe.”
“But why?”
“They’re embarrassing,” I say without turning my head. I don’t feel like meeting his eyes again.
“They’re not embarrassing, they’re just little, and... they’re active. That’s normal. They’re cool.”
“I’ll give them to you. And I’ll give you my parents, too, they’re almost cooler than the twins. For you, the whole awesome package.”
Axel laughs. I wasn’t trying to be funny.
“But why do you dislike them so much?
“Because they deserve it.”
Axel is quiet, which is extremely strange. I didn’t want to look at him but now I can’t help it; his silence makes me turn toward him. I glance up without moving my face. He hasn’t realized that I’m watching him. He looks sad—really sad. What did I say? Why is he being like this? Suddenly he looks at me and I blush a bright red that really ought to disappear from the face of the planet. Where did that come from?
“Come on, Dissie, you shouldn’t say stuff like that about your family. All that bitterness doesn’t suit a girl like you.”
“All that bitterness?” For a second I don’t know what he’s talking about; I’ve been totally thrown off track. “Oh, yeah, my family... Look, you’d have to live it to understand it. And what do you mean bitterness doesn’t suit me?”
“What do I know. Maybe just that you shouldn’t feel it, that no one should make you feel that way. You’re—you’re different. Special. You’re sweet...” I look at him, squinting. “You don’t seem like it when you look at me that way, but you are sweet... in spite of yourself.” Axel’s last words are barely audible. Yeah, right, sweet as candy. “No one should make you feel bad.”
I can’t believe he just said that. The main reason I’m feeling bad right now is him.
“Do you know what movies are showing today?”
Axel looks at me, a little disconcerted, then smiles. Alarm bells go off in my head. No—please, no! It wasn’t an invitation.
“You want to go to the movies?” he asks.
“Just so I can send my parents. That way they’ll leave me alone for a while.”
I start walking again. I know he’s watching me; I can feel his eyes on my face. Without warning he wraps an arm around my waist, and I freeze. I have to confess—just to myself—that I don’t mind. But I know that just because it feels right doesn’t mean it is. It’s as simple as that. I’ve already made a decision about him, and it was only a couple of hours ago that I promised myself I would stick to my decisions. I’m not going to cave now. Slowly I lift his arm and push it away.
“If you get your parents to go to the movies tonight, you could come to a party with me. But really, if you felt like seeing a movie, I’d be happy to skip the party.”
“I hope there’s a kids’ movie showing. That way they’ll take the brats along, too.”
“You’d really come to the party?” Axel’s enthusiasm is a little scary. “That’d be great—you could meet my friends! And a bunch of other people, so when you start classes you’ll already know some people. Not that too many people will be there; it’ll be a small party. You know how it is, in the middle of summer there’s hardly anyone left in St Andrews. They’re all off on vacation. Well, everyone who isn’t working like I am. This time of year is when there’s the most work at the hotel. But yeah, some people will come to the party. You’ll have a good time.”
“I didn’t say I would go.”
“But you want to send your family to the movies, and you said you hope they take the twins. If they didn’t you’d have to stay home and watch them, right?”
“Maybe I feel like seeing a movie with them.”
All right, not even I believe that. But I don’t like seeing Axel so enthusiastic. The party sounded fine, but if it’s going to bring him that much joy... I don’t know. I think maybe not. We reach the end of the beach and turn around. I don’t even bother to check to see if my family is watching as we pass in front of their towels. This thing with Axel makes me sadder than I’d like to admit. But I’ve thought about it a lot, and I can’t go on like this with him. I know he’s hiding something. Practically every time I look at him I can see that secret in his eyes... The sensible thing would be to just get out now, and not take any more chances. Break it off and start college with a blank slate. Who knows? Maybe we could even be friends. I look at his feet walking next to mine. Okay, no, I couldn’t be his friend. Now we’ve reached the rocks at the far end of East Sands, where the little bay curves around. I try to head back toward my family, but Axel takes me by the hand and helps me pick my way through the seaweed and the little pools of water. There are tiny fish trapped in them—I can relate. I don’t know what to do with him. I don’t know what to do with myself. Axel climbs onto a rock and pulls me up to sit next to him. From here the surfers are just tiny figures in neoprene suits, dancing on the water.
The wind sweeps our words away and we have to fight to be heard. We have to lean in close to listen; we’re nearly speaking right into one another’s ears. Little by little, as Axel goes on talking, my fears vanish. I am surprised—astonished—by what I’ve just heard. I never imagined that something like that could have happened to Axel. What he’s telling me should make me trust him. Still, I can’t help feeling that—just like he kept this part of his life secret until now—there is a lot more still under lock and key. I feel small, and not for the first time. That’s the biggest reason I need to stand by my decision to stop seeing him.
We’re quiet for a while, watching the sea. I think that for the first time Axel’s head must be as crowded with thoughts as mine. I wonder if he has the same doubts that I do. One of the gulls flying overhead drops a little shell right into my hands. Axel smiles and comes a little closer to ask:
“So you’ll come to the party with me?”
I fidget with the shell. It could be a sign, but of what? I guess Axel interprets my silence as a no. But of course, he perseveres—if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be Axel: “You could also go to the party alone. Go alone if you want. I’ll be there, but we can ignore each other. I’m a professional at pretending not to recognize people who don’t want to be recognized. I’ll introduce you to everyone and then I’ll pretend I don’t know you, how does that sound?”
I smile more than I ought to, because his face is dangerously close to mine.
“You’re sure you want me to go?”
“What’s up with that sad face? Of course I’m sure!” He looks at me for a few moments and then elbows me in the side. “You’re so ridiculous. Come on. Maybe you’ll meet a mother[1] before you even start classes... wait, no—you hate parents!”
“Very funny!”
“Come on, you’ll have a good time. Can I pick you up?”
“No. I...”
“So you’re choosing the ‘ignore each other’ option, right?”
I shake my head. Axel moves a lock of hair that the wind is blowing into my eyes and tucks it behind my ear. I feel his fingers brush my neck. Neither of us says a word; we just look at each other.
“You changed your mind about coming,” he says, looking serious.
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll come get you at nine.”
“Don’t come to the house. Wait for me on the corner, by the stream. Don’t go down my street.”
“I won’t come near your street, got it. I’ll be on the corner at nine, next to the phone booth.”
I have no idea why I told me to wait for me there. I’m not even sure it’s a good idea to go to the party with him.
“I have to go back to the towels, my parents are probably looking for me.”
“Maybe not.” He winks.
“Right. I’m the invisible daughter, it’s true. Still, I better go.”
Axel climbs down from the rock and puts an arm around me to help me down.
“See you tonight,” he says, before he goes.
It’s unbelievable how many times I go back and forth in my mind between yes and no. Three thousand? Maybe more. I can’t stop changing my mind about the party, even during the short walk back to the towels.
I have no idea whether I’ll see him. I don’t know what my mutant brain will end up deciding. I don’t even know if I’ll decide at all—everything points to no, to a lifetime of being a broken stoplight, blinking between red and green. People aren’t for me. Parties aren’t for me. And Axel... Well, we’ll see about him.