Karolina Waclawiak - The Invaders

“You’re splitting hairs.”

“Who cares?” Teddy asked. He looked at us both and mumbled something about needing to go to the bathroom. He got up and his chair toppled behind him. He leaned down to pick it up, but people were already staring, and it was excruciating. I stared down at the white tablecloth and noticed spots lining the lip of my plate. I tried to scrub them away with my nail. They would not budge and I could feel Jeffrey watching me. I wished Teddy would come back quickly.

“Don’t you think everyone’s just overreacting?” I asked.

“You’re missing the point,” he said.

“Illuminate it for me,” I said.

“People worked their whole lives to live here. It’s an investment of time and money that makes us owners. We own this,” he said, waving his arm.

“You don’t own the water, you don’t own the beach.”

“Yes, we do,” Jeffrey said. “It’s in our deeds.”

“Who is ‘we’?” I asked, because I knew he didn’t mean me.

Even after all that trying, I never got to feel a real sense of ownership. I wanted him to say it out loud, to say I don’t mean you , but he wouldn’t. I was begging him to say it, so someone would finally be direct with me. So I would have a reason to feel like I never even had a chance. Instead, we stared at each other in a standoff.

I heard Teddy’s laughter coming up the steps and I knew I would be off the hook now. We would have to talk about his failings now. Or sit in uncomfortable silence. Either way, I was no longer the bad one. I glanced up quickly to see if Jeffrey had noticed that Teddy was on his way back and he was looking around the room absently, watching the other club members laughing and talking. Teddy sat down and said, “I’m starving,” and I saw that he had a new life to him, smiling. I saw the steaks coming our way, resting in the juice of their own blood. Teddy turned his head to see what I was looking at and saw the steak Jeffrey had ordered for him. Teddy looked at me, pained. I knew he didn’t want it.

He cast his eyes down to the plate being set before him and watched the blood sluice from one side of the white plate to the other and he didn’t even pick up his fork.

“I’m not complaining, but I didn’t want this,” Teddy said.

“You’ll eat it,” Jeffrey said. And Teddy did. He ate it all.

TEDDY

MY STOMACH WAS CHURNING from all the red meat my father made me ingest. Or maybe it was because my buzz was fading. I searched through my pocket for something to make my buzz feel better and found an oblong white pill, which I figured had to be some kind of downer, and took it pronto. I was sitting on the deck of the club, watching the boats float in the marina and listening to the bells jangle each time a wave came in. This was what I liked. The sound of the boats made me want a life like this for myself. I could have a boat with some witty bullshit written across the hull. Nothing obnoxious like “Blo Me” like that idiot from school, as if somehow taking off the w made it less sleazy. I wanted classy. I’d fucking sail it into the sunset and end up on Block Island and squat there in the summers. I could be like one of those mysterious recluses who seem very desirable to women. I couldn’t see our boat in the slip from here and decided that I would have to investigate.

If my father let me, I could have this life, and I would make it good. I wasn’t weak. He just didn’t know what I was capable of. No one did. I had a leg up and that made it easier to slack off. I didn’t have to work at the feverish pace that new guys worked when they came from nothing. I knew I was lucky. When my father used to take me to his office, I could pick them out. They worked like it meant something and never took vacations. They were trying to surpass their numbers. They picked up the proper sales keywords quickly: opportunity instead of problem, scalable sales implementation, and even that rah-rah shit about seizing your future and all the bullshit that led you to believe that anything was possible. They were always the brightest with the firmest handshake. The guys like me, who came from where I come from, had a little bit of a wrinkle in their shirts, and sometimes they decided Top-Siders counted as proper office attire. Those were my people.

I looked into the lit windows of the Captain’s Lounge at all the guys a decade or more older than me and I knew most of them worked for this life. I already had an advantage, because I was a legacy. Did it feel good? I don’t know. I sure didn’t feel bad about it. The women stood in packs, away from their husbands, and none of them looked appealing to me. Well, that’s not true. Some of them did — young-looking moms like the woman I’d just met in the bathroom. I had accidentally peed on the toilet seat and was cleaning it up when I heard a click-click-click and thought to myself, Some old lady, a lady who lunches, had wandered into the wrong bathroom, and I considered jumping out and scaring her, but then, you know, they’re so hopped up on Chardonnay and Xanax, one false move could end it all.

So I finished wiping the seat, because cleanliness is key, and opened the door to the stall. And there she was. She wasn’t old at all, just teetering a little bit. After she informed me that I was, in fact, in the ladies’ room, she chased me into the hallway and made me shake her hand with my unwashed hand and told me her name was Jill.

I looked for her in the crowd of older, more successful versions of me but didn’t see her. Leaning back, I stared out into the sky and heard the patio door open. Then there she was, my Jill, like she knew I was thinking about her. She was teetering more now, but not enough to make her look sloppy.

She swayed close to me and sat down. She said something like “Hey you,” and I smiled back, happy that she remembered me.

But she didn’t remember my name, so she leaned in close and asked me to introduce myself again.

“Teddy,” I said.

“Like the bear?” She giggled.

No, that shit never gets old. I wish she knew that she didn’t have to search for that thing that she thought would put me over the edge. I was just happy to have someone to talk to who didn’t have some bullshit preconceived idea about me. She could find out the truth from the other club mothers tomorrow.

She looked familiar, like I’d seen her around here before, maybe on my school breaks. But I didn’t tell her that. I just nodded and smiled.

She laughed and told me that she was only teasing. She smiled extra-long while she said it, like she was trying to be sexy. I understood what she was trying to do and I tried not to be sad about it.

“Did I see you wearing a bat-wing thing earlier today?” I asked.

“You mean the Earlywine ladies’ poncho? Yes, that was me.”

“I don’t even understand how you would put something like that on. Where do you put your arms?”

“You can put them anywhere. You can put them down your pants, up your shirt, no one would know.”

“Damn,” I said.

“I bought it.”

“Good idea,” I said.

I lay back and closed my eyes and she asked what was wrong. I told her that I didn’t feel well and maybe I should go. She asked me if I wanted her to take my temperature and I wasn’t sure how to answer anymore. The game was already old. I wondered if my mother had ever gone around bored and talking to strangers like this. If my dad allowed it or encouraged it. I thought about it for a second and then decided I never wanted to have that thought again. She wasn’t around to defend herself, anyway.

“Is your husband in there somewhere?” I asked.

“How do you know I’m married?”

“Because they don’t let single women in here,” I said.