“Leo was showing off his motorcycle, and the brakes stuck. He took down the Salernos’ fence. The whole thing. He flipped over the top, but he’s fine.”
Her brother was indestructible, so unlike the sensitive thing she’d become.
“It’s safe to come back. No one’s thinking about you anymore. And your rabbits are probably hungry.”
Gia’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t thought to feed them. Of course they were hungry.
“Was the bike OK?” Leo had been gathering parts for weeks, working under a tarp bungeed to two trees in lieu of a garage. He’d promised her a ride when it was done, all the way to Rockaway.
“Eh. He was taking it apart when I left.”
Gia cringed at all that careful work, the only kind her brother had patience for.
The sun had reached its highest point hours ago and was arcing back to the water. She didn’t want to go back, not even to see the fence. Right here was perfect. The breeze shifted, setting off a chain of ripples. The air was charged like after a thunderstorm, when the swollen canal was off limits. She suddenly felt exposed belly up, the most vulnerable position for an animal. A car door slammed, and Gia righted herself and balanced on her toes, holding the dress to her sides. Lorraine did the same, lowering to hide the bare skin rising above her bathing suit.
“Afternoon, ladies.” He was on the new side of the canal, parked on the crabgrass lot that would be a lawn one day, scattered with lumber and pipes. Leaning against a new brown car, so shiny his reflection was hinted at in the door. The engine was running, exhaust disappearing into the air. He was wearing a white dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, the first two buttons undone. Her father said not to talk to people like him, no matter what, because nothing was free.
Lorraine gave a small smile. Gia did, too, just to be polite, but not too friendly.
“Nice day for a swim.” He shook a cigarette loose from the pack. “Sure is hot enough. Might as well enjoy it before it’s filled in.”
He gestured toward the stretch of the swimming canal that led to the bay. “Too many mosquitoes. Nobody wants a BBQ with suckers floating around, am I right?”
He lit the cigarette and brought it to his mouth, which was full of yellow teeth, even though he was probably just a little older than Ray. He exhaled another plume of smoke.
“But bats eat mosquitoes,” Gia said. Everybody knew that. If they filled the canal, it would break the cycle. Lorraine’s hand drifted to Gia’s elbow under the water.
“Bats eat mosquitoes,” he echoed, picking on something stupid Gia hadn’t said. The shallow water was suddenly more transparent in the sun, revealing too much of her dress above the water. She tugged harder to cover the parts different from his.
“My cousin likes nature,” Lorraine said. “Don’t mind her.”
“But where will we swim?” Gia pressed on. How could they take away the pebble beach? Lorraine squeezed harder.
“In beautiful aboveground pools, my dear, with crystal-clear water just like the Florida Gulf.”
Maybe on his side.
“And you”—he fixed on Lorraine—“are invited anytime.”
Gia bristled. He wasted half a cigarette, grinding it in the dirt under his heel.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Gia dug her feet into pebbles and broken shells, wishing they could swim away. There was no point in not answering. He could find out easily. Lorraine brushed wet hair from her forehead and stared back at him, holding her ground on the underwater pebbles.
“Lorraine.”
“Lovely to meet you, Lorraine. I’ll see you around.”
He gave one last look at the unfinished house and slid into his car, then glanced back through the side-view mirror before the car disappeared onto the street.
Lorraine waded toward the shore, where she rubbed a towel furiously over her arms and legs, her mouth set in a thin line. Water ran down Gia’s legs. Pebbles cut into the bottoms of her feet. The dress suctioned to her, and she wished she had a towel to hide in, too, thankful they hadn’t had to get out of the water with him watching.
“Look at me,” Lorraine said finally, shoes in hand. “Do not ever—ever—talk back to people like him. Do you understand?”
Gia nodded, eyes stinging, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, but it was too late now. Everyone knew to stay away from the fancy suits and cars and not to take favors, knew about the businesses that had burned down on Cross Bay and the people who had gone missing. Why had she forgotten when it mattered?
“Do not talk to them at all if you can help it.”
But the new houses watched them through empty windows and doors. In a few months, they’d have sliding doors and kids on bikes spilling down driveways into the same streets as Gia’s side. Even the canal would go away, blurring the line between them. The sun burned a little brighter in the sky, warming Gia’s already hot face. He’d never even told them his name.
The walk home was silent. Water dripped from their bodies to the concrete, leaving a trail that would evaporate before sunset. Lorraine split off at her house, the TV flickering through the window as always. Gia crept through her back door just as the boys were drifting away in their usual huddle to smoke by the dock or waste time in Ray’s basement. Inside, the women washed dishes while the tables and chairs were put away. The Salernos’ chain-link fence was rolled up into a neat bundle and tied with rope, and there was one long tire mark in the soft earth.
Gia left the dress on her floor in a soggy heap, shakier now that she was home. What had she started? Maybe nothing. Maybe he’d seen her as a little girl and let it go, but the way he’d looked at Lorraine was upsetting, like something mean scraping the bottom of a boat. Her neighborhood was changing. Her body was changing, too, making her less invisible.
But filling in the canal was unnatural. Her family had been here forever, and mosquitoes hadn’t carried them away. Storms hadn’t washed them out. The water was a part of them.
She would apologize to Lorraine and promise to keep her mouth shut. She would tell her father about the man. There was nothing her father couldn’t fix with his gun and shield, his star-pointed hat. People respected him.
Gia changed into the shorts her mother hadn’t approved of and left as quietly as she could, stuffing lettuce leaves between the chicken wire for the rabbits before crossing the street to Aunt Diane’s, where Lorraine sat on the stoop, tapping ashes from a cigarette, brushing them away with her toe. Everything seemed less easy for Lorraine right now than it had before.
“I was thinking.” Gia sat beside her cousin. “We could tell my dad.”
“No.” Lorraine lifted the cigarette to her mouth.
Gia’s father closed the garage door, smothered the barbecue coals. Lorraine didn’t have a dad, so she didn’t know when one could help.
“Yeah, but,” Gia started, but Lorraine cut her off.
“Drop it.” She ground out the rest of the cigarette. Gia reddened. “Let’s go to Ray’s. I can’t just sit here.”
Ray’s house was three doors over with perfect white shingles and blue shutters. Marigolds and petunias lined the walkway in ceramic pots, twelve inches apart from each other. They left their shoes by the front door, tiptoed down the plastic rug protector, past marble heads on pedestals and sickening blue paisley wallpaper, without touching anything. Smudging the fridge had sent Aunt Ida to bed with two aspirin and an ice pack once after a polishing frenzy and a long rant about respecting her home. Gia kept her hands in her pockets now, which was fine because everything stank of bleach and potpourri.