Southampton Spectacular (6 page)

But five minutes later she was saved, and she didn’t care if she had been embarrassed. Neither did the other woman and the three other men, all of whom had entered the water with strangely similar whoops and battle cries of self-encouragement. They didn’t care that they had to be lugged out in a fireman’s carry, one after the other, their limp bodies draped across Kenny’s broad shoulders like soaking sacks of laundry.

So now, as Devon and her friends watched and listened to Kenny hurl scorn and insults at whoever was breaking the rules – “Get your head out of your ass! Stay
between
the buoy lines, not
on
them! You’re going to get strung up like a damned Halibut!” – she supposed it was likely that the lifeguard had every reason to be gruff. Kenny’s face was bright red from the heat and the exertion of screaming at the errant swimmer; sweat was dripping down his sun-baked forehead.

“He’s always so mean,” Florin said.

“But he’s cute,” Nina pointed out.

Florin shook her head. “He’s like forty-five, weirdo.”

Devon ignored them. Instead of heading back to the club, she walked straight toward the lifeguard chair. Kenny, who was now apparently satisfied that the swimmer was not going to hang himself on the buoy ropes, was skulking back to the big white chair, his shoulders hunched over, his expression one of grim forbearance. He did not see Devon coming toward him, and she quickened her pace to intercept.

“Devon, what – ?” Nina began.

“Not the time to start something,” Florin said quietly, so that only Devon could hear. “He insults everybody, but I don’t think it’s personal. I know I said he’s mean, but I think that’s probably just the stress of his job, so you shouldn’t –”

Devon put a hand on the leg of the lifeguard chair, blocking Kenny’s way. He stopped one pace from the chair and looked at her. His face was stern, but not angry. He seemed to consider Devon for a moment. To study her. She did not wither under his gaze, but simply looked back at him.

He straightened up.

Devon handed him the little bottle of Evian water she had been holding. It was still unopened. Kenny took it without a word, unscrewed the top, and emptied it in four quick swallows. He replaced the top, crushed the bottle, and deposited it in the trash bag hanging from a nail on the side of the lifeguard chair. He let out a breath, then reached out and tousled Devon’s hair as though she were a shortstop on a little league team who had made a better-than-average play.

He climbed up the lifeguard chair, back to his perch. 

Devon turned and headed up to the beach-side entrance of the club. She looked over her shoulder at Nina and Florin, who were still standing motionless on the sand. They looked down at their own Evian bottles as though the water inside might contain a clear and undetectable elixir.

“What just happened?” Florin said finally.

“Are you trying to start something with him?” Nina asked.

But Devon was unwilling to address either question. She was moving on. “Florin,” she said, fixing her friend with a serious look. “Now is the time. Go ask James to the movies. Or something. And then go hook up.”

Florin’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really. And you.” She pointed at Nina. “I’ve had enough of your stalling. What’s the problem? If
this
isn’t the right boy, we’re going to have to start signing you up for some of those alternative dating websites. Modern-girls-seeking-other-open-minded-girls-dot-com, or something. So you’d better go talk to him the next time he’s out of the water for more than five seconds, or I’ll do it for you.”

Which is something I’d be happy to take care of,
she didn’t add.

Nina nodded. She looked briefly uncomfortable, but then the sense of what Devon had said seemed to get through to her. “Right. Okay, you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. You’ve got less than three months until school starts up again. Both of you, get a wiggle on.”

And that was it.

With renewed purpose, the three of them marched up the sand to the entrance. Devon realized privately that she was now the only one without a mission, but she still had her parents’ wedding anniversary to plan. Which would be fine, since her school months always provided more than enough dramatic flair to last her until the following September.

They came to the little set of stairs at the beach entrance, where a staff man sat next to a pile of umbrellas and chairs. He nodded pleasantly at the three of them, just as the front desk man did when they came in through the front. This man was yet another employee charged with fending off the unwashed masses who so often tried to gain access to the club. The most common interlopers were people walking by on the beach, who would look up at the sweeping brick patio and the rows of blue umbrellas and decide that this seemed like a nice place to have some lunch. The man at the beach entrance would tell them the club was private, and usually they would simply turn away, being careful to hide their disappointment, because who wants to come into your crummy club anyway? But sometimes there was resistance. Sometimes the people coming up from the beach would protest that the club was essentially on the ocean itself, and that it was therefore public property. Or that they simply needed to use the restroom, and how could they be denied that basic right?

Quite easily, as it turned out.

Devon and Nina and Florin rinsed the sand off their feet with the little spigot by the stairs, and then they climbed back up the short flight to the mezzanine. They walked to the top of the high stairs leading down to the pool, where Devon paused for a moment. “You two get to work,” she said. “I’m going to say hi to my parents.”

Florin and Nina nodded, and they waved to the Halls as they descended the stairs. “Mr. and Mrs. Hall!” they called out. “Mamma Devon, Papa Devon!”

Peter and Cynthia Hall waved back and smiled, and then they turned to welcome their only daughter. They had finished their lunch long ago, but they liked looking out over the pool. Now here came Devon, and they were both delighted to see her, though of course they had all arrived together at the club not two hours earlier. She was wearing her favorite blue swimsuit, a no-nonsense one-piece that went well with her dark brown hair. They marveled at her posture as she came to them; at the way she walked purposefully, and yet as though she had all the time in the world; at her steady eyes, and her easy smile, and at the idea that the two of them could have created such a creature.

And they both reminded themselves silently to say nothing of the kind. So instead they simply smiled and held out their hands to her.

With obvious love.

Devon gave them each a kiss on the top of the head, then sat down at their table and looked down over the pool. James was there, asleep. It was strange to see him without Frankie in his arms or Ned in tow, and Devon found herself scanning the pool area for them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ned returning from the lockers, still being led by the unpredictable Pauline. Ned was out of his whites and into a bathing suit, Devon saw.

But he didn’t look as cheerful as before.

She hoped Ned hadn’t gotten on Pauline’s bad side while they were out of sight.

It took Devon longer to locate Frankie. Just as she was beginning to worry, she heard him giggling. She looked and found him in the arms of his father, who was finally up and about.

Not the place where I would ordinarily look for little Frankie
, Devon thought to herself.

Incredibly, Austin was back in the pool. She couldn’t believe anyone would want to do this many laps, but there he was, swimming as though he had just begun. Was he training for something in particular? Again she found herself feeling annoyed. She had made up her mind that this morning’s stare-off really
had
been her imagination – surely he had just been lost in his own thoughts, and hadn’t even really seen her there – which meant it was time for Nina to make things happen. Except that the longer Austin was in the water, and the longer his encounter with Nina was delayed, the less sure Devon was that she wanted Nina to actually
succeed
in that encounter.

This feeling made her uncomfortable.

She saw Nina and Florin return to their spots by the pool, Florin with her brown pixie cut and her sensible bikini-and-wrap combo; the blonde Nina in the brightest pink bikini she could get away with. She saw Florin lie back down with her arm over her face, saw Nina reposition her straw hat with the pink bow. And then, for some reason, she noticed Ned Dunn again.

What is he doing?

He wasn’t with Pauline anymore. After all that arguing with James earlier, and despite finally having his bathing suit on, he didn’t seem interested in the baby pool anymore. Or the main pool, for that matter, though he was certainly a strong enough swimmer. He walked toward the pool edge as if he were going to jump in, but then turned at the last moment, zigging diagonally away. Now he walked parallel to the pool for a minute, then toward it, then back away again.

He was walking in circles.

Which would not have been worth noticing, except that Ned was not being careful with these circles. He was running into things. Stepping on people lying on towels as he moved over and past them. Already two men had glared at him for coming uncomfortably close to their faces, and one woman actually cried out as he stepped on her hair while walking by. The truly strange thing was that Ned didn’t seem to be doing any of this on purpose. He was not acting malicious, or even mischievous, which is the occasional privilege of eleven-year-olds everywhere. No, Devon thought, Ned just seemed oblivious.

He’s in some kind of fog.

Meanwhile, Frankie’s giggling had grown louder. Devon took her attention away from Ned for a moment, and she saw that Mr. Dunn was enjoying a rare daytime bout of high spirits. He was playing airplane with Frankie, swinging the child around and around in ever-widening arcs. Frankie sounded delighted, but Devon didn’t think James’s father looked sober enough to be spinning in the first place, let alone spinning while holding a ten-month-old by one ankle and one wrist.

It was a hot day. Surely that ankle and that wrist were sweaty. Slippery.

All at once, Devon’s concern tolerance was exceeded. She glanced back at her parents, who were both gazing at her with semi-rapturous expressions on their faces. “I need both of you with me,” she said, and stood briskly.

To their credit, Peter and Cynthia Hall did not stare back at her dumbly, or even ask her to explain herself. They rose immediately, trusting that more information would come as needed. Devon walked quickly to the stairs, talking as she went. “The pool is making me nervous,” she said. “Mr. Dunn, and Frankie, and Ned,” she added.

It was enough. Her parents took one second to digest the layout before them, and they saw exactly what their daughter had seen: an eleven-year-old pacing like a caged animal; a semi-stoned, semi-heat-stroked father twirling his infant son around like a mouse on a string; no one doing anything about it. Without a word, they set about their individual tasks. Peter Hall moved smoothly but quickly toward Mr. Dunn and Frankie, while Cynthia Hall and her daughter split up and began closing in on Ned Dunn’s position.

Mrs. Dunn, meanwhile, was still chatting with the pool lifeguard. Crossing and uncrossing her legs. Running a chipped fingernail helpfully down her oiled, tummy-tuck-scarred stomach, so that the boy sitting atop the chair could not possibly misunderstand what she meant.

Devon and her mother moved toward Ned slowly, not wanting to startle him. They ambled, as though corralling a sleepwalker. Or an errant Alzheimer’s patient.

Jerry Dunn was another story, and Devon’s father was moving as quickly as he dared toward the big man. Frankie was beginning to fly around in circles that were far too wide, far too fast. The biggest problem was that Mr. Dunn was simply very far away. There were too many people – people sitting in chairs, lounging under umbrellas, lying on towels – between Peter Hall and Mr. Dunn. The Beach Club pool had never seemed so huge. Peter could hear Frankie giggling even louder now, giggling in a breathless, over-stimulated, this-is-becoming-scary tone of voice, and Peter tried to move faster. He began jumping over people, risking shins, unprotected stomachs, even heads. But now Jerry Dunn was spinning faster and faster, and he was beginning to waver back and forth like a top that is losing its equilibrium, a top whose center of gravity has shifted outside the rotational axis and will, within seconds, go careening off catastrophically –

And suddenly big Mr. Dunn decided the game wasn’t fun anymore. The ride was over. From his own queasy expression, the spinning may have been making his own head turn in a way that felt not quite right. He stopped spinning, managing as he did so to avoid the edge of the pool by just inches, and put Frankie down. He deposited the child on the warm bricks behind a chair – as if that would keep him from crawling into the pool – and walked away without another glance in Frankie’s direction. Perhaps off to the bathroom. Or to order himself a fresh cocktail, to calm his spinning head.