Karolina Waclawiak - The Invaders

TEDDY

I WAS STUCK TALKING to Steven Cronin. We were the two undesirable gimps and people kept giving us looks like we were ruining everyone’s good time just by standing there and being in their line of vision.

I was tired of looking at Steven’s fucked-up face and he kept asking me for drugs. He said he’d chowed through his painkillers and his mom was watching his intake on the second bottle. Times like this I wish my fucking arm worked, so I could deck him or something. I was going to make a list of the things I couldn’t do anymore so that I would have goals to work toward. I scanned the crowd looking for Jill, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.

Goal one — Kick someone’s ass.

“So who fucked up your face?” I asked.

Steven blinked twice. “You heard,” he said.

“Yeah, I heard. But I can see, too.”

I didn’t think there was some band of outsiders prowling the streets like everyone wanted to believe, and I told him so. Steven and I knew better.

Something had been bothering me lately. Cheryl was acting super weird and cagey and I couldn’t even get out of her when Dad was supposed to come home. She acted like she didn’t even know. Was that their setup now? He just left for weeks and she kept her mouth shut? She was going crazy from it. I did have to say, though, that she wasn’t that bad to be around sometimes. Our little sailing trip was awkward at first, but then when we figured out that we didn’t need to talk the whole time it all eased up. It was just good to be back out on the water again. And we’d started sitting in the yard together when we couldn’t sleep and looking up at the night sky.

“No, man. I don’t remember shit. One minute I’m just walking. The next I’m down on the ground and all I can feel is pain,” he said.

“With your wang out?” I said. I knew I was pushing it, but he was a tool. A psycho, really.

“That was bullshit,” he said.

“Pants around the ankles, I heard,” I said.

“Listen, motherfucker.” His face was getting red. If he hit me, I wouldn’t be able to hit back. Everyone was always saying how cute Steven was when we were kids. He was just adorable. And so smart. Steven was just the smartest. He was a fucking genius. He was going to be someone, they all said. They could tell even when he was a kid. It radiated off him and I hated him for it. Cheryl came back out of the bathroom looking lost as hell. Steven stopped glaring at me long enough to look at her, watching her in a weird way.

“Hear what I said?” I said louder.

Steven looked back at me. “My junk was in my pants, asshole,” he said and focused his attention back on Cheryl.

She took notice and looked startled, then started to rush toward home, leaving me alone. That wasn’t part of the deal.

“What are you looking at?” I motioned to Cheryl. Maybe it was because she was actually feeling like some kind of mom all of a sudden, but I didn’t like him looking at her like that. “She’s too old for you, buddy,” I said, kind of laughing.

“So what about you?” he asked.

He wanted to know about the accident, if I felt anything in my arm. Sometimes shooting pains right at the shoulder, I told him, otherwise, nothing at all. He took my hand and lifted it, dropped it to make sure I wasn’t lying. It just hung there, and a lesser person would have been traumatized.

I turned and saw that Jill had been watching the whole thing. She was wearing a white dress, which I would otherwise not be impressed with but she had this tan. I shook my head and walked over, pretending to be interested in the calamari sitting in the sun on big metal trays. Worse were the newly shucked oysters sitting nearby in ice, nearly boiling in the sun. I didn’t even look back to see if Steven was still talking or anything.

“Gross, huh?” I said as I looked over at her.

That’s what I said. I mean, fuck. She made a face like she didn’t know what I was referring to, so I pointed at the oysters and gave her a knowing look and repeated, “Gross.”

“I like oysters,” she said.

“Yeah, but do you like ones that are going bad right in front of you?” I asked.

She walked over to inspect them. I was nervous as hell, really. What was I thinking, walking over and telling her what was gross when I had a gimp arm and everyone knew it?

She went through the motions of asking me how I was doing, being polite, like we knew each other. She looked around and I asked her what she was looking for and she said, “My kids.”

There was a pileup of madras plaid in the corner, kids pushing one another, and chasing seagulls.

“Can I see you?” I asked.

“I’m right here.”

“You know what I mean.”

She gave me a weak smile and ran after her kids.

So this is how it was going to be now. The half smiles and silence. I wasn’t used to this.

I saw Pauline talking to her parents and I walked to her because she waved me over and right then I needed someone to be nice to me.

She looked surprised to see me, it had been a while, and I eyed her father, testing to see if he knew that I had taken his pills. He looked at me with little recognition and I knew that I was okay. We made rich-parent small talk and I downplayed getting kicked out of Dartmouth as Pauline’s mother focused on me with pursed lips. From the way Pauline was looking at me I could tell she wanted to nurse me back to health. I would be a summer project for her and, most especially, a way to upset her parents. I considered it. I was starting to realize that it was hard to find someone who gave a shit about you.

She pulled me aside and said it was time to really party.

CHERYL

I WALKED ALONG THE FENCE and tried to push it over. They had sealed the base in with concrete, so it was immovable. Why did they have to do it? I felt trapped, the water out of reach.

I looked out at the small docks near the rocky breakwater. Usually, the children’s Sunfish sailboats were there all summer long, turned over and drying after long mornings and afternoons preparing for the end-of- summer race. Instead, the docks were empty and it felt strange.

I saw Tuck riding his bicycle down the road and waved him over.

“Haven’t you seen enough of me tonight?”

“When you put it like that, yes,” I said. I pointed out toward the water and asked, “Where are the boats? Are they being repaired?”

Tuck shook his head and took a sip from his thermos.

“Are you always drinking?” I asked.

He looked at me and said, “It’s my relaxation hour.”

I snorted.

“All you neighborhood ladies are so uptight, if you traveled with a beverage things like this wouldn’t happen.”

“I’m not like them,” I said.

“You say that, but I haven’t seen you prove it yet.”

“When you’re married to someone who’s disinterested, all the other choices you have are frowned upon.”

“Aw, come on now. I’ve just been teasing you all along. I don’t want to be your confessor.”

“You asshole,” I said. “I thought you wanted me to feel alive.”

“Less alone is what I said.”

We looked at each other and knew we didn’t want that from each other. He laughed and put his arm around me and I can’t explain how good it felt to be touched. I wanted to be touched more than ever then.

He took his arm away and I could still feel the imprint of it as he waved his hand toward the docks and scowled.

“Oh God.”

“Yeah, exactly, oh God. She doesn’t want anyone walking on her private rock wall so the kids can’t get to the docks and they can’t sail. Their big summer race — canceled.”

He took a longer sip and said, “She has to be stopped.”