I didn't know he had brought a woman with them until I stepped out of the tent and into the morning breath of the lake. I heard a woman's voice, but I wasn't certain where it came from. It didn't project in a manner one is use to in hearing a woman's voice; crisp, feminine, clean. This voice was dirty and drunk, slurred.
Steven brought her to our camp site for the day, promising to take her boating, and knowing Steven, she probably anticipated a large yacht of endless drink. But at 9:30 in the morning, she had past the point when it didn't matter, sleepy-eyed with Bloody Mary stains already on the front of her green shirt. She couldn't keep her head held up, it bobbled sideways and forward and back and as she spoke, her face aged and limp, excess skin flapped where her cheeks should have been and her eyes drooped in and out of consciousness.
Steven is also drunk and can barely stand up without swaying to the beat of his heart, which amazingly still pumps despite the alcohol poisoning. He is skinner and we know this means he's drinking heavily again, not eating, not sleeping. He seeks out sex with whomever will have it with him, and it usually is the likes of this woman here now, pissing away my expensive suntan lotion over the boozy stink of her shoulders and arms, preparing for the sun in the whispers of insanity.
She has scabies or herpes or ringworm, something on her skin doesn't look right. I'm not certain which one it is. But I do know it's not normal to have sores on the skin, open wounds, which are now lathered in sunblock. Did she know what day it was. Did she even know it was morning. All I wanted to ask of her was how could you be so drunk already on this fine Saturday morning at the lake.
I don't know if Sabrina and Brandon understand what's happening, do they realize this woman is not normal, or that we've even got company. They are happily playing in the park nearby, swinging, diving down the slide, hidden from the realities of stretches of time and hurt and what it does to one's body. I don't want to be like that, ever. I wish, just a little, for a slide for the kids at home. You can't run away from time, but you can hide it's mistakes, sometimes even pretend they're miracles. Or blame it on the rain.
By the time we're in the middle of the lake she has already passed out. Her head is propped backwards, her hair is wallowing in the wind, curly like the wake of the boat, splashing and spurning white lather. It has only taken us mere seconds to reach the center of the lake, the motor has sung it's lullaby to her, and the kids are shouting for the wake board to sail them above the watery darkness. I turn the music up louder, surround sounds of heavy metal guitars and drums, all seven of us captured in the tiny frame of the speedboat, where there should only be four. Somehow the music made it better, made it safer.
She awakens to the pop of a cooler bottle, as I release one cap after the other, pop, pop, the fizz escaping like a genie, her eyes widen as she receives this offering from me, a perfect stranger. We have only just met, yet I know everything about her, everything I need to know. She is content with this boat trip and probably will have sex tonight with Steven, his reward for taking her to a place she has never gone before.
Deep in the bouncing flickers of light, like ghost flickers, guarding the mountains and cliffs bearing white crosses where divers have plunged to their deaths, she keeps her eyes open just long enough to witness their last moment.
Darren, the other hapless soul, decides to wear a lifejacket and mistakenly puts on Sabrina's spare. He doesn't realize it's too small, only being comforted by a floating device that's supposed to save his ass because he's convinced we're all going to drown. He frantically pulls the safety buckles together, yanking at them so that they connect, but they do not reach, his waist is much too large for this jacket. He finally resolves to death-gripping both sides, until I pass him a drink, the jacket suddenly flaps open in the wind's current and his mouth is now soothed by the bitters of the flavoured cider.
He is more normal than most drunks. He's a half drunk, knowing when to start and stop drinking, knowing where the money is that pays for the booze and the meals, and the girls. At this point I'm wondering about this woman, and where she came from and who she came with.
There are other boats on the lake and they have already stirred up a chop, small churnings of the water that can propel a high speedboat into a hammer. The backs of the my legs are bruised from the banging of the waves, as I crash in my seat, uncontrollably bouncing in the air, kept in the boat by the sheer grace of gravity. I turn back to make sure she' still there, alive. Occasionally, she will open her eyes and smile, holding tightly to her bottle, missing her mouth by inches, the cider flies out to the tow line that links Sabrina to me. This is all too much now. I can't have this. I can't have this person here, enjoying my day, enjoying my time. This was supposed to be about me.
Sabrina holds on and motions thumbs up and wants to go faster. But I can't watch her and drive and think and worry and ponder and be angry and give up all at the same time. I push the throttle forward, faster and faster until we are no longer boating. We are now flying. And Sabrina is smiling like an angel, like the God's have smiled down on her pretty face and said, "today, you will see what we see".
The boat begins to crackle on the waves and I'm aware I'm the only one not smiling, but I'm also the only one driving and can feel the uncertainty beneath the gears gripped by my hand. We are going too fast and I pull the throttle back down, hard, as we dead stop into a large wave approaching Sabrina's path.
She rips the goggles away from her face, furious we have stopped and yells we've just missed a good one. The wave passes us and she rocks up and down, as Daniel tows in the rope bringing her closer to mother's relief and buoyancy. He recognizes, as any good palm reader would, I am not enjoying this ride and proposes we all go back for more cider, and without even discussing it, Darren and the woman are abandoned on the lake shore.
Darren jumps off the boat, jeans and running shoes intact, while she flops into the floating tube, just barely, and spreads herself out for balance. She looks like starfish, pink arms and legs protruding overboard like dead weight. We can't bring the boat too close to shore because the rocks will damage the hull, so we slowly release the rope, allowing the tube and it's cargo to float to the sandy beach. Steven wants to stay on and go for another ride, a faster ride. He never used to be this brave.
We start the motors, one, then two, taking the boat out of neutral and within seconds we have once again escaped to the liquid sun, camouflaged by the reflection of ancient craters, monuments Steven will undoubtedly forget because I already hear pop, pop, pop.
The lake shore pushes away from us, until it curves and loses itself into hidden harbours and evergreen forests, until we are deep in the lake and horizon blue, with not a cloud in the sky, nor the woman.
Steven is so content to be with us, in this time and place, didn't matter where or how or when or what, he bursts into rants of yesteryears, releasing bits of contorted memories. He still thinks we're related by marriage, though it has long since entrenched itself up on the ridge wth the other dead divers. Daniel and I are merely acquaintances of someone else's vows, where he won't let go and won't let us forget.
As Sabrina carves into the water, slicing it into two, we are also content to have Steven with us right now, both who are infecting us with gallant laughter. Brandon doesn't want a turn. He's still afraid of letting go and being tossed amongst the fishes and seaweed and monsters, and as we steady ourselves to catch another breath, Steven requests that we take him back. Back to Darren and the woman, where he belongs.
And as he stumbles and trips over rocks, falling into the water, rushing, surging to the shore, I realize he has finally let go. Darren pulls him up and carries him out like he's a wounded soldier, battered by the realities of life and family, until they disappear into the trail ushering them back to their existences, back to higher grounds.
