Elizabeth Gilbert - Stern Men

“Opal!” Mrs. Pommeroy exclaimed. “He’s only ten months old!”

“I can’t help it.”

“You can’t help it? He got the hot dogs himself?” Ruth asked. Mrs. Pommeroy and Opal laughed, and the baby suddenly popped himself off the breast with the loud sound of a tight seal breaking. He lolled his head like a drunk, and then he laughed, too.

“I told a baby joke!” Ruth said.

“Eddie likes you,” Opal said. “You like Roof? You like your Auntie Roof, Eddie?” She set the baby on Ruth’s lap, where he grinned crookedly and spat up yellow soup on her pants. Ruth handed him back to his mother.

“Oops,” said Opal. She heaved the baby up and went into the house, coming out a moment later to toss a bathroom towel at Ruth. “I think it’s nap time for Eddie,” she said, and disappeared into the house again.

Ruth wiped the hot, foamy puddle off her leg. “Baby barf,” she said.

“They feed that baby too much,” Mrs. Pommeroy said.

“He makes the necessary adjustments, I’d say.”

“She was feeding him chocolate fudge sauce the other day, Ruth. With a spoon. Right out of the jar. I saw it!”

“That Opal isn’t very smart.”

“She’s got great big boobs, though.”

“Oh, lucky her.”

“Lucky baby Eddie. How could she have such big boobs when she’s only seventeen? I didn’t even know what boobs were when I was seventeen.”

“Yes, you did. Jesus, Mrs. Pommeroy, you were already married when you were seventeen.”

“Yes, that’s right. But I didn’t know what boobs were when I was twelve. I saw my sister’s chest and asked her what those big things were. She said it was baby fat.”

“Gloria said that?”

“Kitty said that.”

“She should’ve told you the truth.”

“She probably didn’t know the truth.”

“Kitty? Kitty was born knowing the truth.”

“Imagine if she’d told me the truth? Imagine if she said, ‘They’re tits, Rhonda, and someday grown men will want to suck on them.’ ”

“Grown men and young boys, too. And other people’s husbands, knowing Kitty.”

“Why did you ask me about Owney Wishnell, Ruth?”

Ruth gave Mrs. Pommeroy a quick glance, then looked out at the yard. She said, “No reason.”

Mrs. Pommeroy watched Ruth for a long moment. She tilted her head. She waited.

“It’s not true that you were the only person on this island who was nice to my mother?” Ruth said.

“No, Ruth, I told you. We all liked her. She was wonderful. She was a little sensitive, though, and sometimes had trouble understanding the way some people are.”

“Angus Addams, for instance.”

“Oh, a lot of them. She couldn’t understand all the drinking. I used to tell her, Mary, these men are cold and wet ten hours a day their whole lives. That can really chafe a person. They need to drink, or there’s no way to deal with it.”

“My dad didn’t ever drink so much.”

“He didn’t talk to her so much, either. She was lonely out here. She couldn’t stand the winters.”

“I think she’s lonely in Concord.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it. Does she want you to move there with her?”

“Yeah. She wants me to go to college. She says that’s what the Ellises want. She says Mr. Ellis’ll pay for it, of course. Vera Ellis thinks if I stay here much longer, I’ll get pregnant. She wants me to move to Concord and then go to some small, respectable women’s college, where the Ellises know the president.”

“People do get pregnant out here, Ruth.”

“I think Opal has a big enough baby to go around for all of us. And besides, a person has to have sex to get pregnant these days. So they say.”

“You should be with your mother if that’s what she wants. There’s nothing keeping you here. People out here, Ruth, they’re not really your people.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’m not going to do a single thing with my life that the Ellises want me to do. That’s my plan.”

“That’s your plan?”

“For now.”

Mrs. Pommeroy took off her shoes and put her feet up on the old wooden lobster trap she used for a table on the porch. She sighed. “Tell me some more about Owney Wishnell,” she said.

“Well, I met him,” Ruth said.

“And?”

“And he’s an unusual person.”

Again, Mrs. Pommeroy waited, and Ruth looked out at the front yard. A seagull standing on a child’s toy truck stared back at her. Mrs. Pommeroy was staring at her, too.

“What?” Ruth asked. “What’s everyone staring at?”

“I think there’s more to tell,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “Why don’t you tell me, Ruth?”

So Ruth started to tell Mrs. Pommeroy about Owney Wishnell, although it hadn’t been her original intention to tell anyone about him. She told Mrs. Pommeroy about Owney’s clean fisherman’s outfit and his ease with boats and about his rowing her out behind the rock to show her his lobster traps. She told about Pastor Wishnell’s threatening speeches on the evils and immoralities of lobster fishing and about Owney’s nearly crying when he showed her his packed, useless trap of lobsters.

“That poor child,” Mrs. Pommeroy said.

“Not exactly a child. I think he’s about my age.”

“Bless his heart.”

“Can you believe it? He’s got traps all along the coast, and he tosses the lobsters back. You should see how he handles them. It’s the strangest thing. He sort of puts them in a trance.”

“He looks like a Wishnell, right?”

“Yes.”

“Handsome, then?”

“He has a big head.”

“They all do.”

“Owney’s head is really huge. It looks like a weather balloon with ears.”

“I’m sure he’s handsome. They all have big chests, too, the Wishnells, except Toby Wishnell. Lots of muscles.”

“Maybe it’s baby fat,” Ruth said.

“Muscle,” said Mrs. Pommeroy, and smiled. “They’re all big old Swedes. Except the pastor. Oh, how I used to want to marry a Wishnell.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them. Any Wishnell. Ruth, they make so much money. You’ve seen their houses over there. The prettiest houses. The prettiest yards. They always have these sweet little flower gardens… I don’t think I ever talked to a Wishnell, though, when I was a girl. Can you believe that? I’d see them in Rockland sometimes, and they were so handsome.”

“You should have married a Wishnell.”

“How, Ruth? Honestly. Regular people don’t marry Wishnells. Besides, my family would have killed me if I’d married someone from Courne Haven. Besides, I never even met a Wishnell. I couldn’t tell you which one I wanted to marry.”

“You could’ve had your pick of them,” Ruth said. “A sexy looker like you?”

“I loved my Ira,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. But she patted Ruth’s arm for the compliment.

“Sure you loved your Ira. But he was your cousin.”

Mrs. Pommeroy sighed. “I know. But we had a good time. He used to take me over to the sea caves on Boon Rock, you know. With the stalactites, or whatever they were, hanging down everywhere. God, that was pretty.”

“He was your cousin! People shouldn’t marry their cousins! You’re lucky your kids weren’t born with dorsal fins!”

“You’re terrible, Ruth! You’re terrible!” But she laughed.

Ruth said, “You wouldn’t believe how scared of Pastor Wishnell that Owney is.”

“I believe everything. Do you like that Owney Wishnell, Ruth?”

“Do I like him? I don’t know. No. Sure. I don’t know. I think he’s… interesting.”

“You never talk about boys.”

“I never meet any boys to talk about.”

“Is he handsome?” Mrs. Pommeroy asked again.