Эд Макбейн - Last Summer

“This is a major truth.”

“It better be,” Sandy said.

“I hate it when my father swears.”

“Does he?”

“All the time.”

“What does he say?”

“Everything.”

“So what?”

“Well, I think it’s undignified for an architect to swear all the time.”

“Okay,” Sandy said, “that’s a major truth.”

“Actually,” I said, “it’s undignified for anyone to swear all the time.”

“Especially your own father,” David said.

Sandy lifted her bottle and drank. “Here’s another major truth, are you ready?” She paused, and grinned, and then said, “I love you both.”

I drank rapidly and said, “I love you, too.”

“Me, too,” David said. “Let’s drink to it.”

We all drank.

“Now we each owe another truth,” Sandy said.

“I like this truth serum,” I said. “It tastes just like beer.”

“We’re waiting,” Sandy said.

“Why do I always have to go first?”

“You don’t,” Sandy said. “Here’s a truth for you. Mr. Matthews once got funny with me.”

“What do you mean?” I said, thinking I knew what she meant, but really shocked to hear it because Mr. Matthews was an island alderman or something and practically in his forties.

“He put his hand under my skirt,” Sandy said.

“When?” David asked.

“Last summer.”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do?”

“You could have screamed or something.”

“We were in our living room.”

“In your own house? ”

“Sure, my mother was out in the kitchen.”

“And he just stuck his hand under your skirt?”

“Well, he sneaked it under.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘You’re a nice little girl, Sandra,’ or some such crap.”

“I can’t believe it,” I said.

“It’s true.”

“My God, how’ll I ever look him in the eye again?”

“Why not?” Sandy said. “It wasn’t your skirt he had his hand under.”

“But he seems like such a nice guy.”

“He’s a dirty old man,” Sandy said, and giggled.

“Isn’t he an alderman?”

“He’s a councilman.”

“An alderman, I thought.”

“Whatever he is, he’s a swinger,” David said, and drank.

“Now you owe us two, ” Sandy said.

“Okay,” David said. “One: I think my father is a lousy architect.”

“Boy, don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Well, isn’t...?”

“Of course,” Sandy said.

“I mean, whatever we say here...”

“Naturally.”

“So how can he hear it?”

“He won’t hear it from us, ” I said.

“Let’s swear to that,” Sandy said.

“Right, right.”

“Whatever we say to each other...”

“ Whenever we say it.”

Sandy raised her eyes questioningly, waiting.

“I mean, not only now. Whenever. ”

“Right, right, it’s strictly between the three of us.”

“I’ll drink to that,” David said, and drank.

“More truths,” Sandy said.

“How many do I owe now?”

“How many does he owe, Peter?”

“Two.”

“I’m almost out of beer,” David said.

“Serum.”

“Serum. Where’s the serum opener?”

“Over there.”

“Where?”

“Right there.”

“Oh, good, good.”

“Well, finish what you’ve got in the bottle first.”

“Right,” David said, and drank.

“That makes three,” I said.

“You want them all in a row?”

“Yes.”

“All in a row,” Sandy said.

“Here goes,” David said, and paused. “My mother has a boyfriend.”

“How do you know?” Sandy asked, her eyes wide.

“I saw him.”

“With her? ”

“Yes.”

“In bed? ”

“Yes.”

“Were they doing it?”

“Yep.”

“When you came in?”

“I didn’t go in,” David said. “They didn’t see me.”

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where was your father? ”

“In Chicago.”

“Boy,” I said.

“I walked around for maybe two hours,” David said. “We were supposed to have a game that afternoon, you know, but it was called because the field was wet. Which is how I happened to get home early. So I walked around, and when I got back my mother asked me who won. I said we didn’t play. She got this sort of panicky look on her face, you know, and her hand went up to her throat, like in some cheap television show, and she said ‘Well, where were you all this time?’ Just walking around, I said. And we looked at each other.”

“Parents are a pain in the ass,” Sandy said thoughtfully.

“Mmm,” David said, and glanced through the opening in the poncho. It was raining harder now, the sky was blacker. “Where the hell’s that opener?” he said. I tossed it to him, and he opened the second bottle of beer. “One of you go,” he said, “I’m tired.”

We were all very quiet. Outside, there was a streak of lightning, and then a thunderclap. I started biting my lip and wondering what I could tell them. I didn’t want to tell them about the snot.

“Here’s another truth for you,” David said suddenly. “I once broke my grandfather’s watch with a hammer, just smashed in the crystal. Then I threw it down the sewer, and when they asked me if I’d seen it, I said no.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“I wanted to.”

“But why?”

“Because he said there was a little man inside making it tick.”

“Why’d he tell you a stupid thing like that?”

“Who knows? I was only four or five, he probably figured it would thrill me to know there was some little guy inside his watch. Instead, it scared hell out of me. That’s why I smashed the watch and threw it down the sewer.”

“But you didn’t do it maliciously,” Sandy said.

“Oh, sure , I did it maliciously,” David said, and we all laughed.

“Whose turn is it?” Sandy said.

“I don’t know,” I said, and shrugged. I didn’t want to tell them about the snot, and yet it seemed to be the only thing I could think of.

“ You go,” Sandy said.

“No, go ahead, I’m thinking.”

“Have some more beer,” David said.

“Okay,” I said, and drank.

Outside there was another flash of lightning. We held our breaths. The thunder came almost immediately, loud, close. A fresh torrent of rain beat noisily on the umbrella top.

“I...”

They both turned to look at me.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Come on, don’t be chicken,” David said.

“No, I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About...” I hesitated. “About Sandy’s top.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” David said.

“What’s wrong with that?” Sandy said. “He’s supposed to tell the truth.”

“That’s right,” I said, but I was lying, I hadn’t been thinking about Sandy’s top, I’d been thinking about the snot. Or maybe I’d been thinking about both.

“What about my top?” Sandy asked.

“Nothing,” I said. I shrugged. “Just that it’s wet, that’s all.”

“Would you like me to take it off?”

“No.”

“Tell the truth. If you want me to take it off, I will.”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged again. “David?”

“Oh, take the damn thing off if you want to,” David said.

“Well, does Peter want me to?”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” I said, “I don’t care.”

“It’s not such a big deal, you know,” Sandy said, and reached behind her to unclasp the bikini top. She put one hand into her sweatshirt, pulled out the top, and threw it on the blanket. “Oh, man,” she said, “that feels a hundred percent better.”