Outside In (9 page)

“Yeah, fuck it.” I chug the rest of the wine and drop the empty in the pod. “Who cares, anyway?”

THE WEEKDAYS ON THE ISLAND VARY FROM THE WEEKENDS BUT EASILY COULD BE THE SAME
. Each day, each night, people stand in my doorway urging me to indulge with them. To exist here, I’ll have to become skilled in saying no—an art in which I was once well accomplished, but one I no longer care to practice.

Throughout the week people steadily accumulate like carp for a feeding. Thursday night is supposed to be as busy as last Friday, and each of the three weekend nights is considered a Saturday due to the volume of business for the Memorial Day weekend. For as unpredictable as Put-in-Bay appears on the surface, things seem to transpire exactly as forecast. Even chaos takes on a consistent form over time.

Down the street in front of the arcade, a group of skateboarders occupies my attention for the afternoon. While they all look the part—baggy pants, vintage band tees, and Vans—only two even attempt to skateboard. The others prop their boards up against a park bench and heckle passersby between trips into the arcade.

From the tattoos and piercings so conspicuously advertised to their adolescent philosophy of
I make noise, therefore I am
, these kids are familiar to me.

It was only a short while ago that I was being hassled five days a week by ones just like them, and not all that long ago, I was one of them. The only difference is that somewhere along the way I bought into the bullshit being fed to me. I got the grades, went to college, and got the job, while they’re still fighting it. Just one big lost generation. Too smart to learn anything and too naive to do anything—wandering without going, wondering without knowing.

After a while, the two oldest-looking boys, obviously the leaders of the group, walk toward me. One of the boys has ten-inch dreadlocks that resemble a chief’s headdress. The other has a nose ring and both eyebrows pierced. Without slowing down, they try the classic “walk by like you know where you’re going” strategy to attempt to get into the bar.

I prop my leg across the opening. “IDs, boys?”

The boy with dreadlocks hands me an ID.

“Twenty-five, huh?” In the picture he has a beard and a shaved head. “You’ve changed.”

“I look different with the dreads.”

I turn to the other boy. “How about you?”

“I left mine on the boat.” The silver barbell pierced through his tongue clicks against his teeth when he talks.

“Sorry guys, no ID, no enter.”

Dreads says, “Go back to the boat and get it. I’ll meet you inside.” The ease with which he deserts his wingman further establishes his youth.

I say, “Nice try. Now go back to your gang over there and heckle someone else.”

Did they not realize I’d been watching them? With a better fake ID, Dreads could maybe pass for twenty-one, but not twenty-five or twenty-six. He barely looks nineteen now.

The two boys plod back to the group, where the others receive them as battle-proven warriors. There is no ridicule, only admiration for pushing the limits.

Maybe rebellion is the right path. At their age I was so worried about having a career that I weighed myself down with commitments before I even knew what I wanted to do. What’s the big rush after all? Why not drift? I admire their defiance. I wish I’d had more courage to disobey and do what I felt like. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t have had to press the reset button and begin again.

I feel a tap on the shoulder. “Hey stranger, don’t you love me no more?”

It’s the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday, and Haley’s already plowed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I say. “We see each other every day.”

She brushes a strand of hair from my face. “You just don’t have time for me. You wouldn’t want your new butt-buddy Cinch to get jealous.”

I pull back. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who declined our invitation last time.”

“And what’s up with you and Astrid? I hear you two are an item.”

“Sorry to dash that rumor, but we’re just friends.”

“That’s not what I’m hearing.” Her drunken grin broadens.

I look out across the park. “Is this how we’re going to spend our time?”

“Geez. So sensitive.” She leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “Meet me at Skyway after work. Maybe we can actually hang out for a bit.” She steps off the porch and weaves toward the Boat House.

Cinch comes out from inside, watching Haley’s winding path. “She needs a hobby other than drinking.”

“Is it always this bad?”

He clears empty cups from a nearby table. “If the bar’s not busy, she’s an absolute train wreck.”

I shake my head. The person I felt closest to when I arrived—the person who convinced me to come here in the first place—is becoming a stranger. Have things changed so much in a week?

A group of twenty-somethings ready to show IDs steps onto the porch. Cinch just waves them through to the bar and turns toward me, putting both hands on my shoulders. “You up for a little adventure tonight? It’s a tradition to kick off the season at the cove.”

“What’s the cove?” I ask.

“A cliff sticks out over the water on West Shore. I saw it one day coming back on the Jet Express. It’ll be a cool hangout. We can take a twelve pack, jump off the cliff, then build a fire on the beach.”

“I thought you said it was already a tradition.”

He winks. “It will be—after this year.”

“What about Haley?”

“We’ll stop by the Skyway, but she’ll never last. You saw how polluted she was already.”

I look down toward Haley walking into the Boat House. “I just feel bad. She’s a big reason I’m here, and I’ve hardly spent any time with her.”

Cinch says, “Don’t expect to. She runs on bar hours. When the bar closes, she goes home to pass out.”

After work at the Skyway, Cinch and I find Haley tucked in the loge with Stein. I sneak up and put my arms around them. “Just what I like to see: two of my favorite people together. What are we having?”

“Nothing for me,” Haley says. “I only stayed until you got
here so you wouldn’t think I stood you up. Come and give me a kiss.” She pushes her tequila-soaked tongue in my mouth.

I jerk my head back. “I guess you
have
been here awhile.”

“Walk me out to my car.” She stands awkwardly. “I’m done.”

Stein grabs her keys. “You aren’t driving. One of us will take you home.”

Her words slur together. “Ahhh, you guys take such good care of me.”

Cinch takes the keys from Stein. “Let’s all go to the cove after we drop her off.”

“But I want to go, too,” Haley says in a drunken mumble.

Stein stands and helps me guide her toward the door. “We’re both going home. The holiday weekend starts tomorrow. You don’t need to make it any more difficult than it already will be.”

On the way to her Jeep, Haley notices Astrid, walking across the lot on her way to join us. “What’s she doing here? Just friends, my ass.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” I say.

“Just shut the fuck up, you pathetic drunk,” Cinch says. “Like you’ll remember any of this tomorrow.”

Astrid hesitates before getting into the Jeep with us. “Maybe I should just meet you guys there.”

Stein laughs. “Don’t worry. Cinch is right. She’ll have to call the last person she remembers being with to ask how she got home and where her car is.”

Astrid climbs in the back seat. Stein and I position Haley in the front. She clings to my arm. “Just ride up here with me.”

I squeeze in. Stein closes the door. “You’re on your own. Now you understand why I ride my bike everywhere.”

Cinch drives onto the main road. Haley maneuvers onto my lap and kisses my neck until she passes out. Astrid is silent in the back.

Once we’re at Haley’s house, Astrid waits in the car while Cinch and I carry Haley inside and put her to bed. I scan her
languid body, asleep under the sheets. “Good thing she didn’t drive.”

Cinch takes a beer from the fridge and opens it. “Yeah, too many people drive drunk around here.”

“What was up with her kissing me? That’s the first time that’s happened.”

Cinch dumps some coke on the counter. “Be careful with Haley. She has ulterior motives.”

“Are you sure we should do this here?” I walk back toward the living room to watch for Haley.

“Don’t worry. She’s out cold. You could have sex with her and she’d never know.” He divides the pile into two thick lines. “You know, she and I didn’t talk for an entire winter once because I got sick of her nagging me all the time. It was like we were a couple, and then I realized that was what she wanted. At least now I got you to take her off my back.”

I hand him a rolled-up bill. “No way I’m going there.”

Ssshhhump
.

Ssshhhump
.

Back on the road the cool night air rushes through the open Jeep. Neither Cinch nor Astrid says much, which feels fine with me right now. My heart races, but I’m relaxed. The trees dance with the wind under the glow of the sky. The road turns sharply to the right, and the vineyards to my left offer the sweet smell of Concord grapes. Crickets chirp as we race by. Are they welcoming us or telling us to leave?

Cinch pulls off the main road and parks in front of a vacant cottage next to a wooded area. We enter through a gash in the foliage. The sound of water splashing against rocks directs us. Trickles of moonlight straggle down through the trees. A fallen poplar is the final obstacle before the brightly lit clearing.

Cinch arrives first, his face beaming in the moonlight. “Ah, check this out.”

The water, which beckoned from a distance, crashes against the rocks fifty feet below. White foam bubbles on the shore.

Astrid peers over the edge. “No problem. I’ve jumped from higher back in Norway.”

“There’s a way down over here,” Cinch says. “Give me your shoes and socks and the backpack.”

Astrid removes her shirt and drops her shorts. “If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it right.”

Cinch follows. “Now we’re talking.”

I look over the edge. “Uh, I think I’ll keep my shorts on.”

“Probably a good idea,” Astrid says. “They could use a good washing after the past week.”

Cinch collects our things and disappears down the path. The moonlight follows every curve of Astrid’s lean body. “Second time in a week you’ve stripped in front of me,” I say.

“Gives you something to think about later when you’re alone.”

“What makes you think I’ll be alone?”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot about Cinch. Or are you stopping back at Haley’s?”

Cinch returns from the beach, his bulbous, pale body emerging from the darkness like a puff of smoke. “Who’s first? Just remember to jump out as far as possible to avoid the rocks, and pull up your knees when you touch the water or you’ll hit bottom.”

“See you boys on the beach.” Astrid takes a deep breath and leaps. Seconds of silence, and then a splash. Her excitement echoes through the night. “Wow, so great. Let me swim around and check it out.”

“Screw that,” Cinch says. “I’m going now. Kowabungaaaa—” His voice trails into a splash. His hand smacks the surface. “Come on down. You’re the next contestant on ‘The Water is Right.’”

I curl my toes on the rocky surface. I don’t want to repeat another poor dismount like the one at the boat ramp. I watch the
outlines of Astrid and Cinch wade out of the water and convene on the beach. With my left foot planted, I rock back but can’t push off the cliff. Staring at the water below, I stand frozen. My discomfort builds, and I remain there like a statue. I can’t do it.

Astrid’s voice radiates up. “Don’t worry about it. Climb down and have a beer with us.”

I eventually disappear from the edge, but not the same way the others did. Cinch hands me a beer on shore. “Here you go, ya big baby. Maybe I should put a nipple on this.”

“I’m just a lot bigger than you guys and not that graceful,” I say, downplaying my embarrassment.

Astrid piles some brush from the beach into a stone fire ring. “It’s okay. You just have to work up to it. I grew up jumping off cliffs into the fjords. First time is always the toughest.”