In the driveway, Conrad and Leo are trying to hitch the boat trailer to the car, but it keeps slipping out of their hands. I watch them belly-laughing at their own ineptitude, transfixed by the strangeness of normality, the flat line of the everyday.
“Never ask a sax player to do a man’s job,” Leo says when he sees me standing there. “Come give us a hand with this. Conrad, you hold it in place while Elle puts the pin in.”
I hesitate, trying to think up some excuse, but nothing comes.
“Any time now, Elle,” Leo says. “This trailer isn’t going to hitch itself.” He hands me the metal pin. “Hold this while Conrad and I lift.”
“Okay, kiddly-winks.” My mother appears, smiling. She throws a cooler into the back seat.
Conrad and Leo slot the trailer into place. As he stands up, Conrad accidentally knocks the trailer pin out of my hand. He reaches down to get it for me. “I’m sorry, Elle,” he says, his voice so quiet I barely catch it.
* * *
—
Jonas is waiting for us at the end of his driveway, sitting on the verge of the road. He looks relaxed, shirtless as always, but there is a wariness in his eyes, a knitting.
“Hop in, Jonas,” Mum says. “Conrad, you squeeze over.”
Jonas gets in beside him, leans his body away against the car window, pretending to watch the trees go past. I have never seen Jonas look away from anything, never seen his body blanch. And I know it is because I have tethered him—taken away the whitetail dart, wild green-leaf spring of his marrow: forced him to collude, to carry my lie. It’s as if I have stolen his virginity.
“We may need to use the spinnaker,” I say to him, “so we can run in front of the wind.”
* * *
—
It was lovely and calm in the woods—only the perfect luff of a breeze—but when we get to the bay, the wind has picked up. Waves crisscross the harbor, chopping at boats on their moorings. There’s almost no one out on the water.
The first few times we try to put the boat in, it is whipped back to shore before we can get the dagger board down. Conrad yelps in pain as the boat crashes into his shin. My mother watches from the beach, calling out useless directions.
“You all hop in,” Leo says. “One last push.”
“This isn’t going to work, Leo,” I say from the boat. “It’s too rough.”
“You’re probably right. But we’ve come this far.”
“I think I’m going to bail.” Conrad is clearly nervous.
“Come with us. It’ll be fun,” Jonas says. But there is a meanness I’ve never heard before.
At that moment, Leo catches a break between the waves, shoves us hard, and suddenly we are heeling, ripping out to sea. The wind cracks the white sail taut. Conrad sits on the bow, his legs dangling over the edge, skimming the water like thick pink lures.
“I can’t look at him,” Jonas says to me under his breath.
“You have to pretend everything’s fine. You promised me.”
“Why?” Jonas whispers. “How can you even talk to him?”
“I can’t. But I don’t have much choice, do I? I live with him.”
“As a matter of fact, you do. If your mother knew—”
“My mother will never, ever know.”
“You can’t let him get away with it, Elle.”
“Shut up!” I hiss. “Pull in your legs!” I call out to Conrad. “You could get bitten by a shark.” Jonas turns away from me, his lips an angry pinch. The waves froth and nip at our little boat as it picks up speed.
Conrad pulls himself into a crossed-leg position. The bottoms of his feet are thickly calloused, and I can see small hairline splits running up his heels where he has picked the dead skin away. He looks over at me, smiles. “You were right. This is pretty cool.”
He spits his chewing gum into the ocean. I watch it sink in the foam of our wake. I pull a Fresca out of the cooler. “Want one?” I toss Conrad the can.
“Thanks.” He pulls off the aluminum pop-top and throws it overboard.
“You shouldn’t do that,” Jonas calls out. “A bird could choke on it.”
“Right. Like anyone can see me,” Conrad scoffs.
“That’s not the point,” Jonas says. “I see you.”
“I think I’ll live.”
“Asshole,” Jonas mutters under his breath.
The shoreline dwindles away behind us. I can barely make out my mother waving from the beach.