Эд Макбейн - Last Summer

“You sneaky bastard,” Sandy said, laughing, and swam over to him with her sopping wet pants in one hand, and then hit him on the head with them, and tried to duck him. I went to his rescue and the three of us wrestled around out there for maybe five minutes, laughing and yelling, and then Sandy put on her pants, and we floated on our backs for I guess another fifteen minutes or so.

By two o’clock the heat was intolerable.

“You’re going to die, Rhoda,” Sandy said, “unless you get in the water.”

“I’m afraid of it today,” Rhoda said.

“If you want to go in...”

“No.”

“... we’ll stay with you. We won’t let her drown, will we?”

“Certainly not,” David said.

“I’m all right,” Rhoda said. “I don’t mind the heat.”

“You’re sweating like a pig,” David said.

“Ladies don’t sweat, they glow,” Sandy said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s a line from a play we did last term.”

“It sounds like a great play.”

“It was a very good play, as a matter of fact.”

“Did anybody bring sandwiches?”

“Rhoda, where are those sandwiches you made?”

“I’m not hungry yet,” I said.

“It’s too hot to eat, anyway,” Rhoda said.

“Why don’t we get off the beach?” Sandy suggested. “Go have a picnic lunch someplace.”

“Where?” David asked.

“The forest,” Sandy answered.

“What forest?” Rhoda said.

“Where the fire was.”

There was very little motion on the beach. The sun had robbed everyone of the will to move, the sun had fused bodies to blankets. Conversation had stopped, there was scarcely any laughter. An unfamiliar silence shimmered on the air like heat itself, broken only by the incessant rumble of the surf and the droning of the sand flies. The flies were everywhere. They circled the head and landed on the neck and shoulders. They crawled over bellies and legs, stinging, elusively taking wing whenever you slapped at them.

“This is impossible,” Sandy said. “What do you say?”

“Where’s the forest?” Rhoda asked.

“The center of the island.”

“Is it nice?”

“It’s horrible,” I said.

“It’ll be cooler than here,” David said.

“It’ll be private,” Sandy said.

“Rhoda?”

“No,” she said, “I don’t think so.”

“Well, it’s no damn good here, ” Sandy said. “Come on, Rhoda.”

“I don’t mind the heat.”

“Look at the sweat pouring off you.”

“In China...” Rhoda started.

“If you won’t go in the water...”

“... they drink hot tea in order to sweat, and then they sit in the shade of a tree, and the sweat evaporates, and they feel cool all over.”

“This isn’t China,” David said, “and there aren’t any trees on the beach.”

“And I’m sweating enough without any tea,” Sandy said.

“Come on, Rhoda.”

“No,” Rhoda said, “I like it here.”

“Rhoda, you can be pretty goddamn obstinate, you know that?” Sandy said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I can stop off for some beer,” David said, and shrugged.

“Come on, Rhoda.”

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll go without you.” Sandy got off the blanket. Her pants were still damp and sand was clinging to them. She brushed the sand off with swift flat palm strokes. Then she adjusted her top, and said, “Are you coming, Peter?”

“That forest gives me the creeps,” I said.

“It’ll be cool.”

“I’ll sneak out some beer,” David said.

“If your parents...”

“That’s all blown over.”

“Come on,” Sandy said.

“Well...” I said.

“Oh, look, it’s too hot to argue,” she said, and picked up her beach bag, slung it over her shoulder, and began threading her way through the sprawled bodies, heading for the dune.

“Poo, you are making a big mistake,” David said. He took his towel in both hands, and snapped it like a whip at a sand fly on the blanket, missing. He shrugged philosophically, and then started off after Sandy.

“It is pretty hot,” I said.

“You can go if you want to,” Rhoda said.

“Well...”

“Go on. If you want to.”

“Will you be all right?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded again.

“I think I ought to,” I said. I turned away from her gaze. “It’s so hot here,” I said.

“Yes, go,” she said.

I picked up my sneakers. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes,” she said, and again nodded.

“Okay then,” I said. “Hey, wait up!” I yelled to David, and ran after him.

We walked single file on the narrow boardwalk, Sandy in the lead with her beach bag hitting against her thigh, David with his towel slung around his neck, me trying to keep up while struggling to get my sneakers on. David began humming one of his symphonies. When we got to his house, he went inside and I sat down on the porch steps to tie my sneakers. Sandy was on the railing, looking off toward the beach. Her long hair hung limply, sticking in spidery tendrils to her cheeks. She raised her hand idly and wiped sweat from between her breasts, and then left her hand under the bra, as though trying to feel her heartbeat.

“Jesus, it’s hot,” she said.

I stood up and bounced a bit in my sneakers. “What do you suppose it is?” I asked.

“Ninety-eight, I’ll bet.”

“More like a hundred.”

“Rhoda’s an idiot,” Sandy said.

“She’s okay,” I said.

I sat on the steps again. Everything was so still. Sandy began jiggling her foot. Inside the house, we heard Eudice say something, and then David’s voice answering. Sandy raised her eyebrows. We both listened, but the house was silent again. In a little while, David came out with his poncho. He winked at us and started down the steps. We followed immediately.

“Trouble?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Have you got it?” Sandy said.

“Yep. Six bottles.”

“Two each,” Sandy said, and grinned. “Good.” She gave her beach bag a little twirl, slung it over her shoulder again, and began walking. David fell into step beside me.

“Know what else I’ve got?” he whispered.

“What?” I whispered back.

“Guess,” he said, and winked.

“Oh.”

“Mmm,” he said, and that was when we heard Rhoda’s voice behind us.

“Peter!” she called. “Peter, wait for me!”

“Oh, shit,” David said.

Sandy turned. “Well, well,” she said, “it’s Rhoda.”

We waited for her on the path. She was carrying the blanket and a large brown paper bag. She was out of breath when she reached us. Panting, she said, “You forgot the sandwiches.”

“We thought we’d lost you,” Sandy said, and smiled.

“May I still come along?”

“Get too hot for you on the beach?” David asked sourly.

“I changed my mind,” Rhoda said.

“Come,” Sandy said.

We began walking. I took the sandwiches from Rhoda. David looked back at me with a disgruntled expression on his face. We walked in silence, the beach bag hanging from Sandy’s shoulder, thudding against her thigh with every step she took. The sun was hot. We were climbing up and away from the beach. The sound of the ocean was very far behind us now. We continued to climb. I suddenly wished that Rhoda had not joined us.

I wasn’t sure why I felt that way exactly. I only know that as we got closer to the forest, as I saw the burnt trees in a shimmering haze ahead of me and above me, I remembered that once there had been a fire here, remembered that this was where Sandy had killed the gull, this was where David and I had pounded him to a pulp. And then I remembered sitting with Sandy behind the huge black boulder, and I thought of what David had picked up at the house, and of what we might have done to Sandy if Rhoda hadn’t suddenly decided to join us. That wasn’t exactly it, though. That wasn’t all of it. I don’t know what it was. I was frightened. I wanted to tell Rhoda not to go into the forest, the way Hitchcock had warned me not to go into the room. I wanted to tell Rhoda to get the hell back to the beach.