The Ruining (5 page)

THE suN FLOOdEd across the room, shocking me awake. “Get up get up getupgetup!” Zoe’s voice, which normally
made me laugh, may as well have been a bullhorn. She jumped
on top of my bed, her knee colliding painfully with my elbow. “Zoe! Get off,” I shouted, flipping over to face her. Libby
was standing in the doorframe watching us. The empty doorframe, which explained why I hadn’t heard them come in. I
couldn’t fight off the involuntary shudder I experienced every
time I felt as though my space was being invaded.
“Oh,” she said. “I thought you’d like to be greeted by Zoe.
You two seem to be bonding so quickly. But I suppose I should
have used the intercom.” I shook my head violently to clear
away the lingering fog of sleep. Right. They had an intercom
for communicating, because the house was so vast. So far I’d
only been on the receiving end of that, because something innate prevented me from wanting to communicate over a device while in the same house with the person I wanted to
talk to.
“I’m sorry, did I miss my alarm?” I glanced toward the clock
on the wall, but it read eight o’clock. I still had well over an
hour to sleep.
“No, no,” Libby assured me. “It’s just that we—” “We going to the beach!” shouted Zoe exuberantly. “Yes,” Libby said. “It’s unseasonably warm today, so Walker
suggested it might be nice. Never mind the work that goes into
cleaning them up after they’ve gotten all sandy, but you know
Walker.” She sighed melodramatically. “He gets these ideas . . .” “Oh,” I said. “The beach sounds nice.” I kept my voice even,
because from the sound of it, a day at the beach may as well
have been on par with licking the bathroom floor. But the
truth was, I was thrilled by the prospect of a day at the beach.
I hadn’t seen any of San Francisco since I’d arrived a week
before. I’d hoped to explore a little before school started, but
I’d been so busy looking after Zoe that I hadn’t had a day off
yet. That was supposed to be tomorrow, Sunday. Maybe then
I’d finally stop by Owen’s house.
“So get Zoe dressed and put yourself together, too. We’re
just going to Stinson, but some of those people can be snobs,
so I suggest you borrow a suit from me and wear one of the
tunics I gave you. We’ll be going out to eat afterward. On us,
don’t worry,” Libby clarified, before I even had time to register
the plan. I tried not to bristle at that; she was just looking out
for me. “Walker’s already packing up the car, and I’ve thrown together a picnic lunch. Let’s try to be ready to leave in twenty minutes. I’ll bring that suit up in a minute.” I nodded, watching as she turned and headed back in the direction of the staircase
that led to the kitchen.
“I wanna weaw my yellow suit with the polka dots,” Zoe
informed me seriously.
“Okay,” I said. “Just a second.” But she was already dashing
back toward her room, apparently excited about the prospect
of one last beach day before the onset of fall. By the time I
caught up with her, Zoe had already pulled the polka-dotted
suit from her dresser and was pulling the bottoms over her
pajama shorts.
“One sec, little girl,” I said, grabbing her under the armpits
and hoisting her onto her bed. “First, I believe somebody needs
a swimmer’s diaper.” Zoe frowned petulantly and I laughed.
“Don’t smile,” I told her. “Yep, that’s it. No smiling allowed.” The
corners of her mouth started to tremble and turn up a little. “No
smiling, Monkey,” I told her in a deep, serious voice. Finally she
caved, her giggles tumbling through the air the same way her
curls tumbled over her shoulders: perfect, beautiful, full. I managed to locate a Little Swimmer diaper, which wasn’t
difficult given how sparsely decorated the room was compared
to the rest of the house. With a bit of effort, I helped her pull it
on. The swimsuit was a two-piece number in purple and white
dots with a frilly skirt. I selected a pair of yellow jelly shoes to
round out the look. I carefully fastened a Hello Kitty barrette
into her hair. Then I stepped back to admire my handiwork. Yep,
I told myself. Pretty darned adorable. Zoes was the cutest kid. Then I felt the usual pang, the one associated with Lissa.
The kind that was always followed by a sick lurch before I realized what my body was reacting to. It was funny, the way my
guilt provoked a physical reaction.
I snapped out of my gloom and walked Zoe back down
to my room. A plain red one-piece lay folded on my bed. I
escaped to the bathroom and slipped it on, leaving the door
open a crack so I could see Zoe playing with the phone Libby
had given me a day ago. So far it had only one number in it.
But it was a smart phone, the fancy kind with all sorts of apps
already loaded. Libby’s old one, I’d guessed. Zoe seemed more
skilled with it than I was.
I took a second to admire myself in the mirror. With the
addition of Libby’s semi-sheer tunic, I looked almost cute. I
swept my hair up into a messy ponytail and grabbed a book—a
collection of Poe stories I’d had to purchase for my Gothic Lit
class—just in case. Zoe trotted down the stairs, singing softly. “Finally,” Libby said as we rounded the corner. “Hurry up
now, just head out to the garage. The baby’s already in the car,
and Walker’s getting impatient.”
Walker looked anything but that as we piled into the car.
He grinned broadly at me and reached over to honk Zoe’s
nose, causing her to break out in another fit of giggles. Zoe was
happier than I’d ever seen her.
“Guess what I’m gonna do, sweet pea?” Walker asked,
glancing back at Zoe.
“What?”
“Well, why don’t you take a look in the back and you’ll see.” Zoe and I peered into the hatch, where an inflatable raft
rested.
“Zoes, it’s a shark!” I told her. She looked at me doubtfully.
I could understand her skepticism; it looked more like a tent
all deflated like that.
“That’s right, babycakes! I’m gonna take you out on those
waves in your shark boat, so you can scare off the other fishies
and have the ocean all to yourself!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Walker.” Libby had just opened the
passenger door, armed with a picnic basket. “The water’s going
to be way too cold for that.”
“You never know, Libs,” he replied, refusing to be put off.
“These heat waves, they can get under your skin”—he reached
back and ticked Zoe under her knee—“and make you crave an
icy dip.”
“I suppose,” Libby allowed.
“Libby does not like the beach,” Walker informed me seriously. “Which is why we’re heading there today. I’m determined
to convert her.”
“I just don’t understand why we can’t just stick to the pool,”
she argued. “Pools are the perfect compromise. No sand, no
wind, water for you to play in with the kids . . . no jellyfish,
no stingrays . . . we could even go to the club if you want a
change of pace.”
“I have news for you, little lady,” said Walker, his Texas
accent suddenly thicker. “Stinson Beach ain’t got no stingrays.”
Libby sighed dramatically, as if annoyed, but she was clearly
trying to hide a little smile. They were cute together, Libby and Walker. They worked. They gave me hope that maybe someday I could have what they had. I looked at Libby, staring out the window; at Zoe, sucking her thumb from her car seat; and at wide-eyed little Jackson beside her. And I looked at Walker’s tanned, muscular forearms gripping the wheel; the way he fidgeted, playing with his bottom lip with the fingers of his left hand while he drove; the light shadow of stubble that covered his jaw. I didn’t want Walker, not the way Libby had suggested. I wasn’t some sort of little college kid with a crush. Walker was very attractive, but that wasn’t it. I realized in that moment that more than anything, I wanted to be Libby. I wanted all of it: her entire life.

A FEw HOuRs LATER, my arms were sore and I felt like I’d run a marathon. I’d never swum in the ocean before, and so I hadn’t been prepared to brace myself against the cold, or for how battered I’d feel by the waves. Walker and I were out with Zoe, tugging her along in the shark raft as promised. Libby was right: it hadn’t been a good idea. But I’d already entertained her with a sandcastle for far longer than her attention span normally allowed. And so finally we’d caved. Zoe was having a blast, but even Walker looked like he might collapse.

“Does she ever come in?” I called to Walker over the crashing of the waves. He gave me a questioning look.
“Who, Libs?” he asked. I nodded. “Nah, she likes to do her sunbathing right over there. She thinks the ocean’s dirty and all.” I glanced toward Libby, who was enjoying the little setup Walker had created for her out of a beach blanket, an umbrella, and a foldable lounge chair. It looked like she was sipping on something, maybe a beer, while she flipped through her magazine. She looked so glamorous sitting there, in her sunglasses and her big floppy hat and her blue-striped, bandeau bikini. As I stood there with sodden strands of hair sticking to my cheeks, I felt as if twenty lifetimes, and not twenty yards, separated us.
“Watcha thinking?” Walker called out. I turned back to him, the violence of the waves, and little, ruddy-cheeked Zoe. Maybe there was more than one way to have it all.
“This is so much fun,” I shouted, my mouth widening into a grin. “It’s my first time, you know.”
“Your first time at the beach?” Walker looked at me in disbelief. “But you’re . . .” He clamped his mouth shut, as if he thought better of whatever he was about to say. Then he got a devilish gleam in his eye and let go of Zoe’s raft for a second, reaching out toward me. My heart quickened as he moved toward me, narrowing the gap between us. I kept my hand on Zoe’s raft, anchoring her next to us.
“Daddy!” she cried from somewhere beyond us. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” But his eyes were trained on mine, and they didn’t flicker away for even an instant. I was aware of Libby watching us from somewhere close to the shore, but I didn’t care. It was as if I’d lost all control.
And then he dove under the water and grabbed my legs, and before I knew what was happening, he was pushing me up, up, higher than the water until he let go and I soared. For a moment, I flew. It was a brief feeling of delirious freedom. And then I hit the water, its icy fingers dragging me down, pushing me back and forth against the sand until I lost all sense of direction and hoped only that it might let me go before I drowned.
And then it was over; he was helping me to my feet. I coughed, choking up water and phlegm. I blinked the salt out of my eyes, which were burning furiously.
“Why did you do that?” I shouted, shaking in fury. I’d been certain I was going to die. Walker looked at me with concern. Zoe looked back between the two of us, her big eyes wide.
“Initiation,” Walker said finally. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you’d be so scared.”
“I think we should go in,” I told him. “Zoe’s looking a little pink.” I was just saying it as an excuse, but when I looked at her more closely, Zoe did look pink. More like red, actually. My little goose was frying. And then it occurred to me that I hadn’t put any sunscreen on her.
“Zoe, did Mommy give you sunscreen?” I asked her.
“Mmm-mm,” she said, shaking her head.
“Oh god.”
“It’s fine,” Walker assured me. “She doesn’t look that bad.”
“I bad, Daddy,” she said, sensing his concern and my panic. Her eyes began to tear up.
“Shh, you’re fine, sweet pea,” he told her. But I was already beginning to drag her back to shore. I prayed that her burn wasn’t as bad as it looked in this light. But as it turned out, it was worse. Once we got in the shade, it became evident that Zoe was going to be in a lot of pain later on.
“I can’t believe you didn’t put any sunscreen on her!” Libby’s voice was shrill, more furious than I’d ever heard it. “How could you be so careless?”
“I’m so sorry,” I stammered.
“Sorry? Do you even know what sun exposure does to baby skin? It should have been the first thing you thought of!”
“She didn’t know, Libs,” said Walker, trying to soothe her. “You’re her mother. She probably just thought—”
“And you’re her father!” Libby said coldly.
“What about Jackson, should we put some on him? Even in the shade . . .”
“I already did that!” Her fury was almost more terrifying because it was controlled. She wasn’t losing it, the way I’d seen my mother lose it with Dean back when he first moved in. She was completely calm.
I stepped away as they spoke in low voices, reaching for my bag. I’d packed a T-shirt for myself, and I pulled it out and over Zoe’s head to cover her exposed skin. She was crying softly, bothered by her parents’ fighting.
“Hush,” I whispered. “It’s going to be okay.” It struck me that Libby hadn’t so much as glanced as Zoe’s skin yet, but I guessed she would once we packed up and got into the car. Besides, the burn hadn’t fully manifested itself. It probably would be much brighter and more painful by evening.
I settled on the opposite end of the blanket and pulled Zoe into my lap, reading to her from my book. I glanced over after a minute, and it appeared that Walker was apologizing profusely. Finally, he reached over and squeezed Libby’s hand,