Karolina Waclawiak - The Invaders

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“No, are you?”

“Fuck no,” he said.

Teddy slowed and fell back, walking next to me. I was trying to get oriented, but I was moving slowly because of the diazepam.

“There’s Cronin,” he said.

I didn’t want to turn around and face Steven, but I finally did.

“Man, he’s fucked up,” Teddy said.

There was a crisscross of scars over Steven’s face, his cheek still swollen. Maybe he wanted it , I thought. Maybe he was asking for it. I could see his eyes and I had not gotten the memory of them wrong. He watched me now like I had wanted him to before. I wanted to know what he was thinking. If he hated me. I felt ashamed for even caring.

Someone grabbed me from behind and I nearly jumped a foot. I turned and it was Tuck.

“Oh, come on. You could hear me coming,” he said, smiling.

Teddy looked at us both, uneasy, and walked away.

Tuck leaned in close. “So, have you found out yet?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Are you high? Do you need to sit down?”

I made a face and shook my head while he laughed.

“Even if I were high, I’d never tell you,” I said.

“I can keep a secret. What’s wrong?”

“Do you want the short list or the long one?” I asked.

“Whichever is more heartbreaking,” he said, winking at me.

“Gee, I don’t know, that one’s kinda long.”

He leaned in close and I could smell him — salt water and stale beer.

“You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Someone called me and talked dirty to me last night,” he said, laughing.

“No,” I said, backing away.

“I know, right? Sixteen-year-old self is back in action.”

“Why don’t you just hang up the phone?”

“I kinda like it.” He smiled again. I made a face and he continued, “I pretend it’s my wife.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true. Maybe I’m going to ask her to start calling me and talking to me. Or sexting.”

“Tuck, god.”

“Did I cross a line? Are you uncomfortable?”

I was absolutely mortified at the thought that he might know it was me. But if he did, he didn’t let on.

“I don’t care about the sex you have with your wife.”

“Gotta keep it fresh,” he said.

“At least you’re not looking around at them.”

I waved toward the young girls strutting around in eyelet dresses, playing prim for their parents.

“Been there, done that,” Tuck said.

I looked at him in disgust.

“I briefly taught at a boarding school. That’s where I met my wife,” he said.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I’m joking,” he said and winked at me. “Lighten up. Sex is fun.”

“I wouldn’t know anymore.”

Tuck said, “See, that shocks me. You gotta do it to remember you’re not alone.”

I watched as he sauntered away and pulled his bike out of the bushes. He was definitely drunk. I turned to see if anyone else was seeing what I was seeing but no one was paying any attention. He put his beer glass in a plastic cup holder on his handlebars and started pedaling away from the hum of conversation. I felt a flash of envy. His wife was one of the lucky ones.

“Oh, Cheryl, it’s been ages!”

I turned around to see Lori in a low-cut tank top and capri pants. Her massive breasts were hanging down in the middle. I hadn’t seen her much since she was yelling in the face of the old fisherman, shooing away his dog. She looked at me expectantly, searching my face to see if I would yell at her again. I didn’t have the energy.

“How are you feeling? Can you believe it all?” she asked.

I didn’t know what “all” she was talking about, so I just nodded.

“Funny that you’d come by here,” she said.

“Why’s that?” I knew what she was getting at, but I wanted her to say it.

“Well, under the circumstances,” she said.

“What circumstances are those?”

“Oh, Cheryl.” She clutched my arm and laughed nervously.

“Aren’t you going to ask how he’s doing?” I said.

“He’s right over there! He looks wonderful,” she said. “How’s his arm?”

“He’s working really hard,” I answered.

I turned and looked at Teddy talking to Steven. They were both imperfect now, set aside from the rest of the men in pastel tones.

Steven looked past Teddy right at me. He stared at me with recognition. A waiter came by with some champagne and I quickly gulped a glass down.

“When the cat’s away, the mouse will play, eh?”

“What?” I asked.

Lori was smirking at me, pointing at my empty glass.

“I was thirsty,” I said.

“Fran’s poor son. You can hardly stand to look at him,” she said.

It was true. What I had done to him was permanent and visible to anyone who had looked at him. I had seen shadows of him since the incident, but this was the first time I was seeing him since he had healed. I didn’t know how to feel. I had questioned what happened daily.

“Maybe he deserved it,” I said.

“I don’t think it was a fisherman at all,” Lori said, raising an eyebrow. “I just don’t believe it. Doesn’t fit the pattern.” She said “pattern” like she was some kind of detective. I asked her what pattern, but she wouldn’t elaborate. Did she think someone was going around smashing people’s faces?

“Do you think they happened before? Attacks?” I asked.

“You want insider information,” she said, winking at me. “This community is not all peachy.”

“I know. I’m not new,” I said.

“Some people always feel a bit new, don’t you think?” she said.

There were unfamiliar faces, younger women. They must have been new club members. They were young like I was when I first became a member. No jowls or loose neck skin. They would have them soon enough; I could already see their husbands peering around, looking at all those low-cut dresses, short skirts, and tanned, athletic legs. The still-vibrant wives chased after their children. What I noticed most was that none of those men looked at me like I was a possibility.

Coming here was a bad idea, I knew that for sure now. Lori lingered nearby but without more to talk about she faded back into a group of other women in the Tuesday-morning golf group. I heard them talking about handicaps and cheaters. I thought about handicaps, my own, and now Teddy’s. I looked around for him and found him still talking to Steven.

How would Steven, with his scarred face, find women to take to the Captain’s Lounge? Sit with his parents and his date, her skirt grazing her mid-thigh, her breasts that his father would look at. His face couldn’t court that kind of girl anymore. Why hadn’t he told someone? I wanted to corner him and shake him. Ask him what he was up to. There had to be a reason he was hiding this secret for us. I would think he would be afraid I could spill it all. Tell everyone what kind of person he was. He was acting like he had nothing to hide, like he was a victim.

I hurried toward the pool’s locker rooms. I listened as the women laughed and washed their hands. They were talking about how good the calamari was this year and how all their kids wanted lobster for dinner but they hated cracking the shells for them.

If I had a child, I would crack the shell each time. They didn’t know what they had. I sat on the toilet seat in a stall, waiting for the women to leave, but more came in. They were adjusting bras and fixing lipstick and if I came out of the stall now they would know that I had been eavesdropping.

One of them said, “God, I wish I had more than wine.” When they finally stepped out of the bathroom, I came out of the stall. I didn’t like seeing myself, hunched over, nearly cowering, and weak. These women didn’t own me; they weren’t better than me. They were just younger versions of me and soon enough they would be me.