Hemingway's Girl (37 page)

They heard a knock at the door and turned to see Gavin and John in the doorway. Mariella
and Eva ran into each other in their rush to open the door, and laughed.

“We’ll let ourselves in,” said Gavin, holding open the door while John wheeled himself
over the threshold.

Mariella crossed the room to Gavin and hugged him for a long time. She held his face
in her hands when she pulled away. He had heavy circles under his eyes.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

His gaze dropped and then met hers again. His eyes were dark and troubled.

“Okay,” he said. “Much better now that you’re home.”

“How are you down here during the week?” asked Mariella.

“I’ve been back and forth to check on Lu,” said Gavin. “I also kinda hate it there
now, so whenever my supervisor has an errand, I’m the first to volunteer. I do have
to head back this afternoon, though.”

“Thanks so much for checking up on them,” said Mariella. “Lulu’s fever broke last
night.”

“Thank God she’s okay,” said Gavin. Mariella saw her mother hug John and pull away
shyly. It appeared that there hadn’t yet been any formal proclamations of love between
the two of them. Mariella stepped over to hug John when a painting on the wall caught
her attention. It was her father’s boat tied to a dock at sunset. She felt a lump
rise in her throat.

John saw what held Mariella’s attention. “I hope you like it,” he said.

“How did you…” Her voice trailed off.

“Gavin took me down to the junkyard by the marina and showed it to me,” said John.
“I hope it’s okay.”

“What marina?” asked Mariella. “Here in Key West?”

The room got quiet.

Mariella walked over to the painting and put her hand on the picture. She was moved
and didn’t want them to see her emotion. Then anger rose. When did Gavin learn the
boat was there? Why didn’t he tell her he’d found it? Why had Gavin looked at her
father’s boat without her? She couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

Eva cut the tension by announcing that breakfast would be ready soon, then left to
check Lulu. Mariella turned and tried to catch Gavin’s eyes, but he wouldn’t look
at her.

Soon Eva appeared with Lulu in her arms. Lulu wanted to sit on Mariella’s lap, so
Eva passed her to Mariella. While she fed Lulu, Mariella continued to try to meet
Gavin’s gaze, but he seemed to be avoiding her. He looked as if he felt guilty. She
hoped that he’d just recently found the boat and hadn’t had a chance to tell her yet,
but the fact that John had painted and framed a picture of it suggested he’d known
about it for a while. Had he known before going to Bimini? Why had he kept it from
her?

When Lulu finished eating, Mariella placed her on Eva’s lap and started clearing dishes.
She walked to the sink, and in a moment Gavin was at her side with a pile of plates.
While she filled
the sink with water, he nudged her arm with his. She turned to meet his gaze. His
brow was furrowed and he looked contrite.

“I was going to tell you…” he started, but was cut off when Lulu pulled at him to
pick her up.

Mariella turned back to the sink and started washing the dishes.

“I’m so glad you’re better, Lu,” said Gavin, picking her up and tickling her sides.
She wriggled and squirmed, but she clung to him.

“Hey, Gavin,” said John, “I hate to say it, but you’re gonna be cutting it close with
the ferry if we don’t leave soon.”

Mariella turned to Gavin. He put Lulu down and looked at his watch.

“We do have to leave,” said Gavin.

He put his arm around her, and kissed her cheek. Her hands were soapy and her heart
was full of turmoil, so the best she could manage in return was a nod.

“God, I hate always having to leave,” he said.

Mariella was mortified to feel the sting of tears burning behind her eyes. She avoided
his gaze so he wouldn’t see. She didn’t want to make him feel worse, because she didn’t
even know whether she had a right to be angry, and she didn’t want to cause him any
stress after what had happened to that vet. Her frustration over not being able to
talk to him made her hands shake. She finally choked back her emotion.

“Me, too,” she said.

He hesitated a moment, then kissed her on the side of the head.

Then he was gone.

The next morning, Mariella was back to work at the Hemingways’ house, which was tense
and quiet. Papa was holed up in his studio trying to find the muse. The boys played
with trucks on the side yard. Pauline directed Jim on planting some new shrubs he’d
picked up for the south lawn. Mariella scrubbed her fingers raw on the washboard,
trying to get the stains of fish blood, salt water, and Bimini off everyone’s clothing.
Papa’s Basque shirt and khakis hung on the clothesline like ghosts.

As eager as she’d been to get back, Mariella found herself daydreaming of happier
times on Bimini, and conflicted over John’s painting. She was frustrated with everyone,
but didn’t know whether she should feel that way. Part of Mariella realized that she
was jealous that life had gone on in Key West without her. She wasn’t as indispensable
to her family as she’d thought and often told herself she wished to be. Part of Mariella
was curious and angry that her family had shared something to do with Hal without
her. She felt as if they were keeping something from her, and she resented it. She’d
been spoiled by the leisure and privacy in Bimini, and now here she was—fingers red,
dry, and swollen from the hot water, baking in the backyard sunlight, washing clothes,
just one of the help again. She was tired because she had slept poorly, and she was
angry at Gavin and frustrated because of their separation.

Mariella glared up at Papa’s writing cottage, willing him to come down the stairs
to stop and chat to break up the day, but the door remained stubbornly closed.

“Mariella!” shouted Isabelle.

Mariella rolled her eyes and wrung out the last of Pauline’s bathing suits. She hung
it on the line, wiped her hands on her apron, and went into the kitchen.

“You busy?” said Isabelle.

“Um,
yes
,” she said.

Isabelle turned and put her hands on her hips. “Look at you, Miss Sassy. Housework
beneath you now?”

Mariella groaned. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m in such a funk today.”

“I’d be in a funk, too, if I’d been fishing with Papa all summer and had to come back
to work,” said Isabelle. “Now, go on down to the dock and get us some fish for dinner.”
Isabelle squeezed Mariella on the cheek and turned back to slicing vegetables.

As Mariella walked out of the kitchen, grateful to have an errand, Papa pounded down
the stairs. She felt her spirits lift when she saw him, but he passed by her without
a glance. He was looking at a letter and almost knocked her over without apology.
Once he was gone, she removed her apron, threw it on the table in the foyer, and let
the door slam on her way out of the house.

Clouds had begun to cover the sun, though the air remained hot. The breeze picked
up, and Mariella cursed it for not showing up earlier, when she was washing clothes.
On her way to the dock, the streets were strangely quiet and empty. A newspaper blew
across her path and stuck to the bottom of a sapodilla tree. Its headline screamed,
“Unemployment Crisis,” in big, black letters. She heard growling behind a fence and
saw two stray dogs digging into each
other with their teeth. She crossed to the other side of the road and turned down
Virginia Street. She knew she was taking the long way, but she was in no hurry to
go back to the house. She also had another motive: She wanted to see whether her dad’s
boat really was at the old marina.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mariella saw a homeless woman shuffling by on the other
side of the road. She was wearing a dirty sleeveless shirt and a long ruffled skirt
that once might have been pale blue, but now took on the colorless dinge of fabric
worn beyond its life span. Her skin was deeply tanned and wrinkled. She was singing
a song that came through on breaks in the wind. “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.”
Mariella forced her eyes away and quickened her step.

When she got to the marina, she saw some junk boats to the side and couldn’t believe
she hadn’t thought to check here before. Her mother had said the boat wasn’t on Key
West, but she should have checked anyway.

The rusty gate looked locked, but with a nudge, Mariella was able to scrape it open.
The sound hurt her ears, and she flinched as the aging metal traveled through a well-worn
path of its own coppery residue. She wiped flakes of rusted metal off her hands onto
her dress and walked slowly into the yard.

All around her were the sad, broken frames of old boats with peeling paint, rusting
propellers, and broken glass propped up by rusty barrels, or lying on their sides
like the remnants of a terrible storm. Mariella saw one fishing boat leaning against
an ancient Ford without wheels. The boat’s name,
Lazy Days
, had new, unintended meaning.

Mariella saw a small skiff among the larger boats. It looked tiny among the old giants,
and Mariella felt pity for it. She reached out and ran her hand over the edge of the
bow, but pulled back as a splinter lodged itself in her ring finger. She bit it out
and spit it on the ground, all feelings of pity replaced by annoyance. She
smiled to herself for blaming a hunk of wood and bolts, but quickly sobered when she
saw her dad’s boat just ahead. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

The bottom of the boat was battered where it had hit the rocks, and its engine was
gone. Her legs felt like lead as she tried to walk toward it. She could barely move
them. She finally stopped trying and just stared at the boat.

ForEva
.

Mariella didn’t laugh at the name her father had chosen, the way she used to. She
used to tease him about what a silly name it was. His elementary attempts at poetic
language and romance had embarrassed her at the time. By the time she was old enough
to appreciate a man who would endure ridicule at the dock for his love, he’d died.
She had always regretted teasing him for it. She wished she’d told him that she wanted
a man to dedicate a boat to her. She missed the time she had spent with him on it,
and wished she could tell him about Papa and Gavin and her adventures that summer.

Then the name was mocking her. Not forever. Not at all. Nothing was. Mariella felt
tears threatening to fall. Her eyes blurred, and she wiped them away with a violent
motion as a sob rose in her throat.

Suddenly she wanted to get away. She couldn’t stand looking at the boat anymore. She
heard the gate scrape shut behind her, and turned to see a man with greasy white hair
and an unlit cigarette behind his ear. He choked on a phlegmy cough and spit. He wore
overalls and a soiled yellow shirt.

“Wait,” she called.

He raised his eyes and smiled, revealing half a mouth of rotten teeth.

“I’m leaving,” she said.

“Please stay,” he teased.

She hurried over to the gate where he stood. He didn’t move
out of the way, so she had to push past him. He smelled of body odor and moonshine.

“Got any part you need right here.” He laughed.

“Piss off,” she said without turning to look at him.

She heard the door creak shut and the lock fasten behind her.