diner table, she sat eating eggs and pancakes as if she’d never seen food before.
“Slow down,” he said. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
She licked maple syrup off her thumb. “I think I’m going to go away,” she said. “Maybe find my brother. Do you remember him?”
“No.”
“He was older. When we were kids we used to take care of each other. I wanted to be a ballet dancer, and he used to tell me I could, and he would draw pictures of the costumes I would wear. I remember that.”
“Did you take dance lessons?”
“No.” She laughed. “That didn’t seem to matter. Hey, can I maybe borrow some money?” she asked. “Just a little bit. I gave so much to the guy, the detective. I guess he probably wasn’t a real detective, was he?”
“Do you mean borrow, or keep?”
She made a pained face. “I don’t know,” she said. “I want to get on my feet. I’d want to pay you back.”
After breakfast, he drove with her to the bank and gave her four hundred dollars he had earned building scaffolding with Acey. And then Rita vanished. It was a family talent. Steven drove by her apartment, and there was a sign saying it was for rent.
He went out fishing a lot, after that. Sometimes he would go at night and borrow a Sunfish like they used to, because it was so easy. Other times he would sit on a dock before sunset with a line in the cool water, watching the light play on the surface. He caught fish, not as many as he remembered catching as a kid, but enough to prove they were still there, waiting for food to come by, unaware that the river was only theirs until the plant started up, and then their time was over.
He finally left the plant, months before it was ready to open, not long before his job would have run out anyway. He sold his parents’ house and moved to Florida, because there were plenty of jobs building houses there, and because it felt like a place everyone had moved to. It didn’t seem like a place anyone was from. There were girls in the bars there, too, and sometimes he talked to them. If they didn’t seem too crazy, he sometimes took them home.
There was one who moved in with him, who was a few years older than he was. She had been a mermaid at a water park, and she looked like a mermaid, with wavy blond hair. She showed him some of her act once, in the pool at his apartment building, with the kids coming out on the balconies to watch her do backward somersaults. It was convincing even without her green tail, and in that moment he thought he might love her. But he kept comparing the way he felt about her to the way Acey had seemed to feel about Rita, and it was a hard standard. After a few months he broke it off, and felt better. He didn’t want anything that felt like it had a history to it.
When they started to drain a swamp where birds and fish had lived, for a new housing development down the road from his apartment, Steven watched the protests and the preparations with interest. The bird people were furious, the developers unmovable, and Steven was filled with relief that the fight wasn’t his. Nothing here was his: the streets weren’t full of things he’d done with Acey, or places he’d ridden his bike in grade school, and nothing reminded him of his dead parents. Even the old people were older than his parents had been. He thought there should have been something sad about how little he was tied up with the place, but instead it felt like freedom. He was free because it wasn’t his water here, and they weren’t his fish.
ONE JANUARY EVENING , when the doctor’s new house felt warm and inviolable against the wind and cold outside, his younger brother called. They hadn’t spoken for months. Aaron assumed George wanted something: a larger share of what their parents had left them, or a loan, or some other favor that would annoy him. But George’s desires were hard to predict, and what he wanted, this time, was to invite the family skiing, over Presidents’
“Slow down,” he said. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
She licked maple syrup off her thumb. “I think I’m going to go away,” she said. “Maybe find my brother. Do you remember him?”
“No.”
“He was older. When we were kids we used to take care of each other. I wanted to be a ballet dancer, and he used to tell me I could, and he would draw pictures of the costumes I would wear. I remember that.”
“Did you take dance lessons?”
“No.” She laughed. “That didn’t seem to matter. Hey, can I maybe borrow some money?” she asked. “Just a little bit. I gave so much to the guy, the detective. I guess he probably wasn’t a real detective, was he?”
“Do you mean borrow, or keep?”
She made a pained face. “I don’t know,” she said. “I want to get on my feet. I’d want to pay you back.”
After breakfast, he drove with her to the bank and gave her four hundred dollars he had earned building scaffolding with Acey. And then Rita vanished. It was a family talent. Steven drove by her apartment, and there was a sign saying it was for rent.
He went out fishing a lot, after that. Sometimes he would go at night and borrow a Sunfish like they used to, because it was so easy. Other times he would sit on a dock before sunset with a line in the cool water, watching the light play on the surface. He caught fish, not as many as he remembered catching as a kid, but enough to prove they were still there, waiting for food to come by, unaware that the river was only theirs until the plant started up, and then their time was over.
He finally left the plant, months before it was ready to open, not long before his job would have run out anyway. He sold his parents’ house and moved to Florida, because there were plenty of jobs building houses there, and because it felt like a place everyone had moved to. It didn’t seem like a place anyone was from. There were girls in the bars there, too, and sometimes he talked to them. If they didn’t seem too crazy, he sometimes took them home.
There was one who moved in with him, who was a few years older than he was. She had been a mermaid at a water park, and she looked like a mermaid, with wavy blond hair. She showed him some of her act once, in the pool at his apartment building, with the kids coming out on the balconies to watch her do backward somersaults. It was convincing even without her green tail, and in that moment he thought he might love her. But he kept comparing the way he felt about her to the way Acey had seemed to feel about Rita, and it was a hard standard. After a few months he broke it off, and felt better. He didn’t want anything that felt like it had a history to it.
When they started to drain a swamp where birds and fish had lived, for a new housing development down the road from his apartment, Steven watched the protests and the preparations with interest. The bird people were furious, the developers unmovable, and Steven was filled with relief that the fight wasn’t his. Nothing here was his: the streets weren’t full of things he’d done with Acey, or places he’d ridden his bike in grade school, and nothing reminded him of his dead parents. Even the old people were older than his parents had been. He thought there should have been something sad about how little he was tied up with the place, but instead it felt like freedom. He was free because it wasn’t his water here, and they weren’t his fish.
ONE JANUARY EVENING , when the doctor’s new house felt warm and inviolable against the wind and cold outside, his younger brother called. They hadn’t spoken for months. Aaron assumed George wanted something: a larger share of what their parents had left them, or a loan, or some other favor that would annoy him. But George’s desires were hard to predict, and what he wanted, this time, was to invite the family skiing, over Presidents’
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