Эд Макбейн - Love, Dad

The rain started again shortly after midnight, a downpour that turned the already inundated festival site into a pockmarked morass of shallow pools. Running through the rain, giggling, holding sodden newspapers over their heads, Rusty and Lissie finally found dubious shelter under a huge maple. A girl poked her head out of a tent pitched nearby, glanced briefly and disconsolately at the rain, and then spotted them where they were standing under the tree.

“Hey! Come in out of the rain!” she called.

They hesitated.

“Well, come on!” she called again, and disappeared inside the tent.

“You want to?” Rusty asked.

“Sure,” Lissie said, “why not?” and both girls ran to the tent and scrambled in under the flap.

“Really coming down again,” the girl said. She was wearing only red panties under a blanket that was draped over her shoulders and hanging unevenly to just above her knees. She was a rather plump girl, with marvelous blue eyes and dark hair, the planes of her square face catching light from a kerosene lamp resting on a blanket in the center of the tent. Sitting on the blanket was a bearded boy wearing a Harvard T-shirt and blue jeans, struggling to open a can of sardines with the can-opener blade of a Swiss army knife.

“Lost the key,” he said, looking up and grinning, and then getting back to work with the can opener.

“I’m Suzie,” the girl said.

“Hi, I’m Rusty.”

“Lissie.”

“Judd,” the boy said.

“You look drowned,” Suzie said. “You want a towel?”

“We sure could use one,” Rusty said.

Suzie knelt beside one of the knapsacks, the blanket hanging loose over her naked breasts. She rummaged for a towel, found one, and handed it to Rusty, who — immediately and to Lissie’s enormous surprise — promptly peeled off her wet T-shirt, and began briskly toweling her back, her shoulders and her breasts.

“That’s the only dry one,” Suzie said.

“I think there’s another one in my knapsack,” Judd said, not looking up from the stubborn can of sardines.

“I can use this one,” Lissie said, “that’s okay.”

“Might as well take the dry one,” Judd said, and put down the can of sardines and the knife, and rose from his cross-legged position on the blanket to walk to the other side of the tent. She was surprised to see how tall he was, six one, six two, she guessed, a gangly boy with long stringy blond hair and a shaggy beard, all knobby elbows and long legs as he bent over his knapsack and began digging into it.

“I’m sure there’s one in here,” he said, and began tossing rolled clothing onto another blanket partially soaked through from the wet ground under it.

“It’s okay, really,” Lissie said. “I can use the one Rusty’s—”

“No trouble,” Judd said, and kept tossing clothes onto the blanket. “Here we go,” he said, and rose again, and carried the towel to where Lissie was standing.

“Thanks,” she said, and began drying her hair. Rusty was standing some three feet away from her, the other towel draped around her neck now, hanging loosely over her breasts.

“Sure glad we brought the tent,” Suzie said.

“Oh, yeah,” Judd said, and went to work again on the sardine can. “Where’s that cheese?” he asked. “Give these guys some cheese. You had anything to eat today?”

“We grabbed some hot dogs before they ran out,” Rusty said.

“Something, huh?” Judd said. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Where you guys from?”

“Connecticut,” Lissie said.

“We’re up in Boston,” Suzie said. “You’d better take off that wet shirt.”

“Well,” Lissie said.

“Catch a cold otherwise,” Suzie said.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Lissie said. She hesitated a moment, and then pulled the wet T-shirt over her head. Embarrassed, she turned her back at once, and began drying herself.

Suzie was passing around the wedge of cheddar cheese on a paper plate. “What’d you do with the good knife?” she asked Judd.

“Over there someplace,” he said, and then — triumphantly as he opened the sardine can — “Ah -ha!” He dipped his forefinger into the oil, brought it to his lips, licked at it and said, “Good. Want some sardines, anybody?”

“Mm, thanks, I’m starved,” Rusty said.

Lissie still had her back to the others. She hung the towel around her neck, the way Rusty had, and then — before she turned — arranged it so that the folds were covering her breasts.

“There’s some bread, too,” Suzie said. “Where’s the bread, Judd?”

“Right there.”

“Listen to that rain.”

They sat cross-legged around the kerosene lamp, passing around the cheese and sardines.

“We could use some beer,” Judd said.

“All gone,” Suzie said.

“Where do you guys go to school?” Judd asked.

“I’ll be starting Bennington in the fall,” Rusty said.

“How about you?”

“Brenner,” Lissie said. “Also in the fall.”

“That’s near us,” Suzie said. “I’m at B.U.”

“Boston’s a great city,” Judd said. “You’ll really dig it.”

“Brenner’s a nice school,” Suzie said. “We know lots of kids at Brenner.”

“What are you majoring in?” Rusty asked.

“Pot,” Judd said.

“Speaking of which,” Suzie said, and got to her feet, almost tripping over the tails of the blanket.

“Let’s finish off the food first,” Judd said.

“Where’d you put it?” Suzie asked.

“Never can find anything,” Judd said, smiling. “The pocket on my knapsack.”

“You guys smoke?” Suzie said.

“Oh, sure,” Rusty said.

“Who doesn’t?” Judd said.

Lissie hadn’t realized until now just how hungry she was. She cut herself another huge wedge of cheese, dipped a sardine out of the oil, put both on a slice of white bread, and unashamedly devoured the open-faced sandwich in what seemed to her like thirty seconds.

“Have some more,” Judd said.

“Thanks,” she said, and cut herself another wedge of cheese.

“Bread, too,” he said. “Plenty of bread. Damn, I wish we hadn’t run out of beer.”

“Maybe we can get some tomorrow,” Suzie said, coming back to the blanket with a small plastic bag of marijuana.

“Yeah, but I’d like it now,” Judd said.

“Everything has to be now with him,” Suzie said, smiling and shaking her head.

“Better than later, right?” Judd said.

The sand was still wet from the earlier downpour. Behind him, coming from the Lanes’ rented house on the dunes, Jamie could hear the muted sound of someone playing a guitar and someone else singing along. He had requisitioned a half-empty bottle of Scotch from the kitchen counter, and a plastic cup from one of the cabinets, and had wandered down the rickety steps leading to the beach, eager for a breath of fresh air and a respite from the noise. He had left his shoes at the foot of the steps, and rolled his trousers midway to his shins. The sand was cool underfoot. The water gently nudged the shore.

He saw, at first, only the gold of her top and the blond of her hair catching whatever faint light filtered to the beach from the house above. She was sitting alone on a black raincoat spread on the sand, smoking, looking out over the water. She seemed engrossed in thought; he almost turned to walk up the beach in the opposite direction — but she had already seen him. He hesitated, and then went to where she was sitting.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she answered, and sucked on the cigarette. He realized all at once that it was marijuana.

“Think it’s going to clear up?” he asked.